The Life of the Weevil 
stones preserves the forms but not the in- 
stincts; it says nothing of industries, because, 
let us repeat and again repeat, the insect’s 
tool tells us nothing of its trade. With the 
same rostrum the Weevil may follow very 
different callings. 
What the ancestor of the Rhynchites did 
we do not know and have no hope of ever 
knowing. ‘The theorists, therefore, take 
their stand only on the vague and slippery 
ground of suppositions: 
“Let us admit,” they say, “let us imagine 
that . . . it might be that...” and so 
forth. 
My dearly-beloved theorists, this is a most 
convenient means of arriving at any con- 
clusion we like. With a bunch of nicely- 
selected hypotheses, I will undertake, though 
no subtle logician, to prove to you that 
white is black and that darkness is light. 
I am too fond of tangible, indisputable 
truths; I will not follow you in your sophis- 
tical suppositions. I want genuine facts, 
well-observed, scrupulously-tested —_ facts. 
Now what can you tell us of the genesis of 
the instincts? Nothing and again nothing 
and always nothing. 
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