The Life of the Weevil 



But suspicion, however well-founded, is 

 not certainty. I shall not know the secret 

 unless and until I witness the performance. 



Chance, the servant of those who solicit 

 her patiently, procures me a meeting with 

 the Acorn-weevil at work in the first fort- 

 night of October. My surprise is great, for 

 at this late period all industrial activity as a 

 rule is at an end. The entomological season 

 closes with the first touch of cold. 



It happens to be wild weather to-day; an 

 icy north-wind is roaring, chapping one's 

 lips. One needs a stout faith to go out on 

 a day like this to inspect the thickets. Yet, 

 if the Weevil with the long churchwarden 

 exploits the acorns, as I imagine that she 

 does, now or never is the time to look into 

 things. The acorns, still green, have 

 attained their full dimensions. In two or 

 three weeks they will possess the deep brown 

 of perfect maturity, soon to be followed by 

 their fall. 



My hare-brained excursion gives me a suc- 

 cess. On the ilexes I surprise a Weevil, 

 with her proboscis half-sunk in an acorn. 

 To observe her with due care is impossible 

 90 



