The Sloe-Weevil 



familiar to me {R. Bacchus, Lin.). Iden- 

 tical in shape with the manufacturers of 

 cigars and the exploiters of fruit-stones, 

 worthy, indeed, in all respects of the name of 

 Rhynchites, what does this Weevil do? 

 Does she roll leaves? No. Does she in- 

 stall her grub in the casket of a kernel? No. 



Her trade is a very simple one, for her 

 method is confined to inserting her eggs, 

 here, there and everywhere, in the still green 

 flesh of the apricot. Here there is no 

 difficulty to overcome and consequently no 

 art to be displayed by either mother or 

 grub. The rostrum sinks into a material 

 which offers but a slight resistance; the egg 

 is let down to the bottom of the wound; 

 and that is all. The establishment of the 

 family is a most summary proceeding; it 

 reminds us of the practice of the Larini. 



The grub, for its part, has no need for 

 talents of any sort. What would it do with 

 them? It feeds on the pulp of the fruit, 

 which soon falls to the ground and is reduced 

 to a jelly. Life is easy in these liquescent 

 surroundings; the infant is bathed in ferment- 

 ing pap. When the time comes for it to 

 take refuge in the subsoil, the jam-sodden 

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