The Pea-Weevil: The Larva 
causes a little miracle. The insect has no 
logical sense of its own. It passively obeys 
a higher logic; it obeys, but is as unconscious 
of its art as crystals are when assembling 
their battalions of atoms in exquisite order. 
Sooner or later, in August, dark circles 
form on the peas, always one to each seed, 
with no exception. These mark the exit- 
hatches. Most of them open in September. 
The lid, which looks as though cut out with a 
punch, comes off very neatly and falls, leav- 
ing the opening of the cell free. The 
Bruchus issues, freshly clad, in her final form. 
The weather is delightful. Flowers 
abound, awakened by the showers; the emi- 
grants from the peas visit them in autumnal 
revelry. Then, when the cold sets in, they 
take up their winter-quarters in some retreat 
or other. Others, quite as numerous, are 
less eager to quit the native seed. They stay 
there, motionless, all through the frosty 
season, sheltered behind the trap which they 
are careful not to touch. The door of the 
cell will not open on its hinges, that is to 
say, along its line of least resistance, until 
the hot weather returns. Then the laggards 
leave their homes and rejoin the more for- 
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