The Life of the Weevil 



brooks. The pretty, green Tree-frog, swell- 

 ing his throat into a bagpipe, sits and croaks 

 in it at the approach of rain. 



Come nearer. On its trivalvular capsules, 

 which the heat of June is beginning to ripen 

 we shall see a curious sight. Here, a rest- 

 less company of thick-set, rusty-red Weevils 

 are embracing, separating and coming to- 

 gether again. They are working with their 

 beaks and are busy mating. This shall be 

 our subject for to-day. 



Our current language has not given them 

 a name, but history has inflicted on them the 

 fantastic appellation of Mononychus pseudo- 

 acori, FAB. Literally interpreted and am- 

 plified, this means "the one-nailed insect of 

 the mock acorus," acorus in its turn being 

 derived from a, privative, and *o>7 the pupil 

 of the eye. The grammarian's scalpel, 

 searching and dissecting the entrails of 

 words, is liable, like the anatomist's scalpel, 

 to meet with strange adventures. Let us ex- 

 plain this scientific jargon, which at first 

 sight seems utterly meaningless. 



The plant helpful to those without 

 pupils that is to say, the weak-sighted is 

 the acorus, or sweet flag, which the medical 

 294 



