The Life of the Weevil 
pie made from the sanies of a corpse. The 
grub for which these victuals are intended 
hatches in an upper story, separated from 
the larder by a clay partition. 
How will this grub breathe, first in its cell 
upstairs and then in the lower room, when 
it has perforated the floor and reached the 
cold pasty? ‘The house is a piece of pot- 
tery, an earthenware jar whose wall some- 
times measures a finger’s-breadth in thickness. 
Air cannot possibly pass through such a ca- 
sing. The mother, who knew this, made 
arrangements accordingly. Along the 
gourd’s neck she contrived a narrow passage 
through which a flow of air is possible. 
Without resorting to obstruction by means 
of varnish or anything else, we see quite 
plainly that this minute tunnel is a ventila- 
ting-shaft. 
Exposed on her fruit to the danger from 
the gum, the Weevil excels the meat-packer 
of the pampas in her delicate precautions. 
Over the spot where the egg lies, she raises 
an obelisk, the equivalent of the gourd’s 
neck in the work of the Phanzus; to give the 
germ air, she leaves the axis of the nipple 
hollow, as does the potter. In either case, 
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