I Once when I was six I saw a magnificent picture in a book about the jungle, called True Stories. It showed a boa constrictor swallowing a wild beast. Here is a copy of the picture. In the book it said: "Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing. Afterwards they are no longer able to move, and they sleep during the six months of their digestion." In those days I thought a lot about jungle adventures, and eventually managed to make my first drawing, using a coloured pencil. My drawing Number One looked like this: [illustration] I showed the grown-ups my masterpiece, and I asked them if my drawing scared them. They answered, "Why be scared of a hat?" My drawing was not a picture of a hat.

It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. Then I drew the inside of the boa constrictor, so the grown-ups could understand. They always need explanations. My drawing Number Two looked like this: [illustration] The grown-ups advised me to put away my drawings of boa constrictors, outside or inside, and apply myself instead to geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar. That is why I abandoned, at the age of six, a magnificent career as an artist. I had been discouraged by the failure of my drawing Number One and of my drawing Number Two. Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is exhausting for children to have to provide explanations over and over again. So then I had to choose another career, and I learned to pilot aeroplanes.

I have flown almost everywhere in the world. And, as a matter of fact, geography has been a big help to me. I could tell China from Arizona at first glance, which is very useful if you get lost during the night. So I have had, in the course of my life, lots of encounters with lots of serious people. I have spent lots of time with grown-ups. I have seen them at close range . which hasn''t much improved my opinion of them. Whenever I encountered a grown-up who seemed to me at all enlightened, I would experiment on him with my drawing Number One, which I have always kept.

I wanted to see if he really understood anything. But he would always answer, "That''s a hat." Then I wouldn''t talk about boa constrictors or jungles or stars. I would put myself on his level and talk about bridge and golf and politics and neckties. And my grown-up was glad to know such a reasonable person. II So I lived all alone, without anyone I could really talk to, until I had to make a crash landing in the Sahara Desert six years ago. Something in my plane''s engine had broken, and since I had neither a mechanic nor passengers in the plane with me, I was preparing to undertake the difficult repair job by myself. For me it was a matter of life or death: I had only enough drinking water for eight days.

The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand a thousand miles from any inhabited country. I was more isolated than a man shipwrecked on a raft in the middle of the ocean. So you can imagine my surprise when I was awakened at daybreak by a funny little voice saying, "Please . draw me a sheep ." "What?" "Draw me a sheep ." I leaped up as if I had been struck by lightning. I rubbed my eyes hard. I stared.

And I saw an extraordinary little fellow staring back at me very seriously. Here is the best portrait I managed to make of him, later on. But of course my drawing is much less attractive than my model. This is not my fault. My career as a painter was discouraged at the age of six by the grown-ups, and I had never learned to draw anything except boa constrictors, outside and inside. So I stared wide-eyed at this apparition. Don''t forget that I was a thousand miles from any inhabited territory. Yet this little fellow seemed to be neither lost nor dying of exhaustion, hunger, or thirst; nor did he seem scared to death.

There was nothing in his appearance that suggested a child lost in the middle of the desert a thousand miles from any inhabited territory. When I finally managed to speak, I asked him, "But . what are you doing here?" And then he repeated, very slowly and very seriously,"Please . draw me a sheep ." In the face of an overpowering mystery, you don''t dare disobey. Absurd as it seemed, a thousand miles from all inhabited regions and in danger of death, I took a scrap of paper and a pen out of my pocket. But then I remembered that I had mostly studied geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar, and I told the little fellow (rather crossly) that I didn''t know how to draw. He replied, "That doesn''t matter.

Draw me a sheep." Since I had never drawn a sheep, I made him one of the only two drawings I knew how to make--the one of the boa constrictor from outside. And I was astounded to hear the little fellow answer: "No! No! I don''t want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa constrictor is very dangerous, and an elephant would get in the way. Where I live, everything is very small. I need a sheep. Draw me a sheep." So then I made a drawing.

He looked at it carefully, and then said, "No. This one is already quite sick. Make another." I made another drawing. My friend gave me a kind, indulgent smile: "You can see for yourself . that''s not a sheep, it''s a ram. It has horns ." So I made my third drawing, but it was rejected, like the others: "This one''s too old.

I want a sheep that will live a long time." So then, impatiently, since I was in a hurry to start work on my engine, I scribbled this drawing, and added, "This is just the crate. The sheep you want is inside." But I was amazed to see my young critic''s face light up. "That''s just the kind I wanted! Do you think this sheep will need a lot of grass?" "Why?" "Because where I live, everything is very small ." "There''s sure to be enough. I''ve given you a very small sheep." He bent over the drawing.

"Not so small as all that . Look! He''s gone to sleep ." And that''s how I made the acquaintance of the little prince.