The Life of the Weevil 



the strangers on the leaves of my hazels. 

 The journey has not tried them unduly. 

 They look splendid in their modest drab 

 costume. The moment they are free, they 

 half-open their wing-cases, spread their 

 wings, fold them again and once again unfurl 

 them, without taking flight. These are mere 

 muscular exercises, serving to revive their 

 strength after a long imprisonment. I 

 regard these sports in the sunlight as a good 

 omen: my colonists will not run away. 



Meantime the nuts are filling out daily 

 and beginning to tempt and entice the child- 

 ren. They are within reach of the smallest, 

 who love to stuff their pockets with them 

 and to crunch them, cracking them between 

 two stones. They receive express injunc- 

 tions to keep their hands off them. This 

 year, for the sake of the Weevils whose his- 

 tory I wish to learn, the joys of gathering 

 nuts in May will be forbidden. 



What sort of ideas can such a prohibition 

 produce in these ingenuous minds? If they 

 were of an age to understand me, I would 

 say: 



"My dears, beware of the great enchant- 

 ress. Science. If ever one of you — which 

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