The Life of the Weevil 
time, one above the other; often also the 
uppermost of the pair succeeds in hatching 
whereas the lower fades and perishes. 
What did this latter lack, to produce a grub? 
A sun-bath, perhaps, the gentle incubation of 
which the upper egg robs it. Whether 
through the effect of the untimely screen that 
overshadows it, or for some other reason, 
the elder of the eggs in a group of two rarely 
follows the normal course. It withers on 
the pod, dead before it has come to life. 
There are exceptions to this premature 
end. Sometimes the twin eggs develop 
equally well; but these instances are so rare 
that the family of the Bruchus would be 
reduced by nearly one-half if the binary 
system were a fixed rule. To the detriment 
of the peas and to the Weevil’s advantage 
there is one thing that lessens this destructive 
factor: the eggs are laid one by one and in 
separate places. 
A recent hatching is marked by a whitish, 
winding little ribbon, which raises and fades 
the skin of the pod near the sloughed egg- 
shell. It is the work of the new-born larva 
and is a subcutaneous tunnel along which 
the tiny creature wends its way in search 
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