The Life of the Weevil 
the strangers on the leaves of my hazels. 
The journey has not tried them unduly. 
They look splendid in their modest drab 
costume. ‘The moment they are free, they 
half-open their wing-cases, spread their 
wings, fold them again and once again unfurl 
them, without taking flight. These are mere 
muscular exercises, serving to revive their 
strength after a long imprisonment. I 
regard these sports in the sunlight as a good 
omen: my colonists will not run away. 
Meantime the nuts are filling out daily 
and beginning to tempt and entice the child- 
ren. They are within reach of the smallest, 
who love to stuff their pockets with them 
and to crunch them, cracking them between 
two stones. They receive express injunc- 
tions to keep their hands off them. This 
year, for the sake of the Weevils whose his- 
tory I wish to learn, the joys of gathering 
nuts in May will be forbidden. 
What sort of ideas can such a prohibition 
produce in these ingenuous minds? If they 
were of an age to understand me, I would 
say: 
“My dears, beware of the great enchant- 
ress, Science. If ever one of you—which 
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