The Pea-Weevil: The Larva 



causes a little miracle. The insect has no 

 logical sense of its own. It passively obeys 

 a higher logic; it obeys, but is as unconscious 

 of its art as crystals are when assembling 

 their battalions of atoms in exquisite order. 



Sooner or later, in August, dark circles 

 form on the peas, always one to each seed, 

 with no exception. These mark the exit- 

 hatches. Most of them open in September. 

 The lid, which looks as though cut out with a 

 punch, comes off very neatly and falls, leav- 

 ing the opening of the cell free. The 

 Bruchus issues, freshly clad, in her final form. 



The weather is delightful. Flowers 

 abound, awakened by the showers; the emi- 

 grants from the peas visit them in autumnal 

 revelry. Then, when the cold sets in, they 

 take up their winter-quarters in some retreat 

 or other. Others, quite as numerous, are 

 less eager to quit the native seed. They stay 

 there, motionless, all through the frosty 

 season, sheltered behind the trap which they 

 are careful not to touch. The door of the 

 cell will not open on its hinges, that is to 

 say, along its line of least resistance, until 

 the hot weather returns. Then the laggards 

 leave their homes and rejoin the more for- 

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