The Haricot-Weevil 



pierced with round holes numbering as many 

 as the inhabitants that have left it; the con- 

 tents yield to the pressure of the finger and 

 spread into a disgusting paste of floury ex- 

 creta. The bean is a complete wreck. 



The Pea-weevil, living alone in its seed, 

 eats only enough to make a little hollow for 

 the nymph. The rest remains intact, so that 

 the pea is able to sprout and can even serve 

 as food, if we dismiss any unreasonable 

 repugnance from our mind. The American 

 insect does not exercise this self-restraint: 

 it empties its haricot entirely, leaving a skin- 

 ful of filth which I have seen refused by the 

 pigs. America does not do things by halves 

 when she sends us her plagues of insects. 

 We had to thank her for the Phylloxera, 

 the disastrous Louse against whom our vine- 

 growers wage incessant war; and now we 

 have to thank her for the Haricot-weevil, 

 a serious future menace. A few experiments 

 will give us an idea of the danger. 



For nearly three years there have stood, 

 on the table of my insect laboratory, some 

 dozens of jars and bottles closed with gauze 

 covers which prevent escape, while permit- 

 ting constant ventilation. These are the 

 285 



