The Life of the Weevil 
his rivals! Were man to disappear, an- 
nihilated by his own follies, the springtide 
festival would be no less solemnly celebrated 
by the Blackbird’s triumphant fluting. 
To the most deserving part played in 
feasting the bird, the minstrel of the forests, 
the Weevil adds another, that of moderating 
the amount of vegetable lumber. Like all 
the mighty really worthy of their power, 
the oak is generous: it yields acorns by the 
bushel. What could the earth do with this 
abundance? The forest itself would be 
stifled for lack of space; excess would ruin 
the essential. 
But, as soon as victuals are plentiful, 
there comes from every side a rush of con- 
sumers only too eager to reduce the head- 
long production. The Field-mouse, a native, 
hoards acorns in a stone-heap, near her hay 
mattress. A stranger, the Jay, arrives from 
a distance, in flocks, apprised I know not 
how. For some weeks he flies feasting from 
oak to oak, giving vent to his joys and his 
emotions by screeching like a strangled Cat; 
then, having fulfilled his mission, he goes 
back to the north whence he came. 
The Weevil has been beforehand with 
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