The Haricot-Weevil 
pierced with round holes numbering as many 
as the inhabitants that have left it; the con- 
tents yield to the pressure of the finger and 
spread into a disgusting paste of floury ex- 
creta. The bean is a complete wreck. 
The Pea-weevil, living alone in its seed, 
eats only enough to make a little hollow for 
the nymph. The rest remains intact, so that 
the pea is able to sprout and can even serve 
as food, if we dismiss any unreasonable 
repugnance from our mind. The American 
insect does not exercise this self-restraint: 
it empties its haricot entirely, leaving a skin- 
ful of filth which I have seen refused by the 
pigs. America does not do things by halves 
when she sends us her plagues of insects. 
We had to thank her for the Phylloxera, 
the disastrous Louse against whom our vine- 
growers wage incessant war; and now we 
have to thank her for the Haricot-weevil, 
a serious future menace. A few experiments 
will give us an idea of the danger. 
For nearly three years there have stood, 
on the table of my insect laboratory, some 
dozens of jars and bottles closed with gauze 
covers which prevent escape, while permit- 
ting constant ventilation. These are the 
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