ay, moreover?"

In spite of this reproof Monsieur Crapaud looked in no way ashamed of
himself, and I regret to state that hence-forward (with the partial
humaneness of mankind in general), Monsieur the Viscount amused himself
by catching the insects (which were only too plentiful) in an old
oyster-shell, and setting them at liberty on the stone for the benefit
of his friend. As for him, all appeared to be fish that came to his
net--spiders and beetles, slugs and snails from the damp corners,
flies, and wood-lice found on turning up the large stone, disappeared
one after the other. The wood-lice were an especial amusement: when
Monsieur the Viscount touched them, they shut up into tight little
balls, and in this condition he removed them to the stone, and placed
them like marbles in a row, Monsieur Crapaud watching the proceeding
with rapt attention. After awhile the balls would slowly open and begin
to crawl away; but he was a very active wood-louse indeed who escaped
the suction of Monsieur Crapaud's tongue, as his eyes glowing with eager
enjoyment, he bolted one after another, and Monsieur the Viscount
clapped his hands and applauded.

The grated window was a fine field for spiders and other insects, and by
piling up stones on the floor, Monsieur the Viscount contrived to
scramble up to it, and fill his friend's oyster-shell with the prey.

One day, about a year and nine months after his first arrival at the
prison, he climbed to the embrasure of the window, as usual,
oyster-shell in hand. He always chose a time for this when he knew that
the court would most probably be deserted, to avoid the danger of being
recognized through the grating. He was therefore, not a little startled
at being disturbed in his capture of a fat black spider by a sound of
something bumping against the iron bars. On looking up, he saw that a
string was dangling before the window with something attached to the end
of it. He drew it in, and, as he did so, he fancied that he heard a
distant sound of voices and clapped hands, as if from some window above.
He proceeded to examine his prize, and found that it was a little round
pincushion of sand, such as women use to polish their needles with, and
that, apparently, it was used as a make-weight to ensure the steady
descent of a neat little letter that was tied beside it, in company with
a small lead pencil. The letter was directed to "_The prisoner who finds
this._" Monsieur the Viscount opened i