The Life of the Weevil 
her at work, you need but inspect the lower 
twigs of the common black poplar, at the 
edge of the meadows, about the end of May. 
While, overhead, spring’s caressing 
breezes stir the majestic green distaff and set 
the leaves quivering on their flat stalks, down 
below, in a layer of calmer air, this year’s 
tender shoots remain quiescent. Here above 
all, far from the wind-tossed heights uncon- 
genial to the industrious, the Rhynchites 
labours. And, as the workshop is just at a 
man’s height, nothing is more easy than to 
watch the roller’s actions. 
Easy, yes, but distressing, under a blazing 
sun, if you wish to follow the insect in every 
detail of its method and the progress of its 
work. Moreover, this involves long jour- 
neys, which take up time; and again it is none 
too favourable to precise observations, which 
demand indefinite leisure and assiduous 
inspections at all hours of the day. It is 
greatly preferable to pursue our studies in the 
comfort of our own home; but it is above all 
things necessary that the insect should lend 
itself to our plan. 
The Rhynchites fulfils this condition 
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