yours; witness the barley-grass, which turns into a butterfly.

“And therefore you are lifted up with pride, and think to yourself. 'In all this world there is nothing superior to me!' Ah ! I can very well guess what is in your heart: You are too much satisfied with your own person. That is why you let yourself be blown thus lightly about by every wind;—that is why you never remain still,—always, always thinking: 'In the whole world there is no one so fortunate as I'

“But now try to think a little about your own personal history. It is worth recalling; for there is a vulgar side to it. How a vulgar side? Well, for a considerable time after you were born, you had no such reason for rejoicing in your form. You were then a mere cabbage-insect, a hairy worm; and you were so poor that you could not afford even one robe to cover your nakedness; and your appearance was altogether disgusting. Everybody in these days hated the sight of you. Indeed you had good reason to be ashamed of yourself; and so ashamed you were that you collected old twigs and rubbish to hide in, and you made a hiding-nest, and hung it to a branch,—and then everybody cried out at you, “Raincoat Insect! (Minomushi.) And during that period of your life, your sins were grievous. Among