The Nut-Weevil 
nut, fallen of its own ripeness, is lying on the 
ground. 
Without delay, as soon as free, it explores 
the soil within a restricted radius, seeks a 
point easy to dig, finds it, does a little spade- 
work with its jaws, wriggles its rump and 
buries itself. At no very great depth a 
spherical cavity is made by pressing back the 
dusty soil. Here the grub will spend the 
winter and await the resurrection of the 
spring. 
Were I so presumptous as to advise the 
Balaninus, better-versed than any one in its 
business as a Weevil, I should say: 
“To leave your nut now is an act of folly. 
Later, when the April festival is here and 
the hazels replace their drooping catkins by 
the pink pistils of their nascent fruit, well 
and good; but to-day, in this time of blazing 
sunshine, which drives the most gallant work- 
ers to idleness, what is the use of deserting 
a home in which you can sleep so comfortably 
throughout the slack summer _ season? 
Where will you find a better lodging than 
the shell of a hazel-nut when the autumn 
rains come and the winter frosts? In what 
mote peaceful solitude could the delicate 
131 
