The Pea-Weevil : The Eggs 



who, though exempted from the labour of 

 the fields, will nevertheless settle in our 

 granaries and with her pointed beak nibble 

 the heap of corn, grain by grain, to the husk. 

 For us who dig and weed and water, bent 

 with fatigue and burnt by the heat of the day, 

 nature swells the pea-pods; she swells them 

 also for the Pea-weevil, who, doing no 

 gardener's work, will all the same take her 

 share of the crop at her own time, when the 

 earth is joyful with the new life of spring. 



Let us watch the actions of this zealous 

 tax-collector, who levies her tithes in green 

 peas. I, a well-meaning rate-payer, will let 

 her have her way: it is precisely for her 

 benefit that I have sown a few rows of the 

 beloved plant in my enclosure. With no 

 other invitation from me than this modest 

 seed-plot, she arrives punctually in the course 

 of May. She has learnt that in this stony 

 soil, unfitted for market-gardening, peas are 

 flourishing for the first time. And she has 

 hastened thither to exercise her privileges 

 as an entomological revenue-ofl'icer. 



Whence does she come? It is impossible 

 to say exactly. She has come from some 

 refuge or other where she has spent the 

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