ork. An hour
passes, two hours, wearying the observer by their sustained attention;
for I wish to witness the precise moment when the beetle withdraws her
drill, turns round, and deposits her egg in the mouth of the orifice.
This, at least, is how I foresee the event.

Two hours go by, exhausting my patience. I call the household to my aid.
Three of us take turns, keeping an uninterrupted watch upon the
persevering creature whose secret I intend at any cost to discover.

[Illustration: 1. THE GREY LOCUST.

1'. THE NERVATURES OF THE WING.

2. THE BALANINUS FALLEN A VICTIM TO THE LENGTH OF HER PROBOSCIS.]

It was well that I called in helpers to lend me their eyes and their
attention. After eight hours--eight interminable hours, when it was
nearly night, the sentinel on the watch calls me. The insect appears to
have finished. She does, in fact, very cautiously withdraw her beak, as
though fearing to slip. Once the tool is withdrawn she holds it pointing
directly in front of her.

The moment has come.... Alas, no! Once more I am cheated; my eight hours
of observation have been fruitless. The Balaninus decamps; abandons her
acorn without laying her eggs. I was certainly right to distrust the
result of observation in the open woods. Such concentration among the
oaks, exposed to the sun, wind, and rain would have been an intolerable
task.

During the whole of October, with the aid of such helpers as are needed,
I remark a number of borings, not followed by the laying of eggs. The
duration of the observer's task varies greatly. It usually amounts to a
couple of hours; sometimes it exceeds half the day.

With what object are these perforations made, so laborious and yet so
often unused? Let us first of all discover the position of the egg, and
the first mouthfuls taken by the grub, and perhaps the reply will be
found.

The peopled acorns remain on the oak, held in their cups as though
nothing had occurred to the detriment of the cotyledons. With a little
attention they may be readily recognised. Not far from the cup, on the
smooth, still green envelope of the acorn a little point is visible; a
tiny needle-prick. A narrow brown aureole, the product of mortification,
is not long in appearing. This marks the opening of the hole. Sometimes,
but more rarely, the hole is drilled through the cup itself.

Let us select those acorns which have been recently perforated: that is
to say, those in which the perforation is not ye