The Life of the Weevil 
Weevil abandons her shaft and solemnly 
retires, hiding among the dead leaves. I 
shall learn no more to-day. 
But I have been given a hint. On still 
days, more favourable to my hunting, I 
return to the spot and soon have the where- 
withal to stock my cages. Foreseeing 
serious difficulties because of the slowness of 
the work, I prefer to continue my studies 
indoors, with the unlimited leisure to be 
found at home. 
This was an excellent precaution. If I 
had tried to go on as I had begun and to 
observe the Weevil’s actions in the freedom 
of the woods, never should I have had the 
patience to follow to the end the choice of 
the acorn, the boring of the hole and the 
laying of the eggs—even presuming that my 
discoveries were propitious—so meticulously 
deliberate is the insect in its business, as the 
reader will presently be able to judge. 
The copses frequented by my Weevil are 
composed of three kinds of oaks: the ilex and 
the durmast, which would become fine trees 
if the woodcutter gave them time, and lastly 
the kermes-oak, a wretched, scrubby bush. 
The first, the most plentiful of the three, 
92 
