The Sloe-Weevil 
familiar to me (R. Bacchus, Lin.). Iden- 
tical in shape with the manufacturers of 
cigars and the exploiters of fruit-stones, 
worthy, indeed, in all respects of the name of 
Rhynchites, what does this Weevil do? 
Does she roll leaves? No. Does she in- 
stall her grub in the casket of a kernel? No. 
Her trade is a very simple one, for her 
method is confined to inserting her eggs, 
here, there and everywhere, in the still green 
flesh of the apricot. Here there is no 
difficulty to overcome and consequently no 
art to be displayed by either mother or 
grub. The rostrum sinks into a material 
which offers but a slight resistance; the egg 
is let down to the bottom of the wound; 
and that is all. The establishment of the 
family is a most summary proceeding; it 
reminds us of the practice of the Larini. 
The grub, for its part, has no need for 
talents of any sort. What would it do with 
them? It feeds on the pulp of the fruit, 
which soon falls to the ground and is reduced 
to a jelly. Life is easy in these liquescent 
surroundings; the infant is bathed in ferment- 
ing pap. When the time comes for it to 
take refuge in the subsoil, the jam-sodden 
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