errors, the festival of the life-bringing season
would be no less worthily observed, celebrated by the fluting of the
yellow-billed songster.

To the meritorious role of regaling the blackbird, the minstrel of the
forest, the Balaninus adds another--that of moderating the superfluity
of vegetation. Like all the mighty who are worthy of their strength, the
oak is generous; it produces acorns by the bushel. What could the earth
do with such prodigality? The forest would stifle itself for want of
room; excess would ruin the necessary.

But no sooner is this abundance of food produced than there is an influx
from every side of consumers only too eager to abate this inordinate
production. The field-mouse, a native of the woods, stores acorns in a
gravel-heap near its hay-lined nest. A stranger, the jay, comes in
flocks from far away, warned I know not how. For some weeks it flies
feasting from oak to oak, giving vent to its joys and its emotions in a
voice like that of a strangling cat; then, its mission accomplished, it
returns to the North whence it came.

The Balaninus has anticipated them all. The mother confided her eggs to
the acorns while yet they were green. These have now fallen to earth,
brown before their time, and pierced by a round hole through which the
larva has escaped after devouring the contents. Under one single oak a
basket might easily be filled with these ruined shells. More than the
jay, more than the field-mouse, the elephant-beetle has contributed to
reduce the superfluity of acorns.

Presently man arrives, busied in the interest of his pig. In my village
it is quite an important event when the municipal hoardings announce the
day for opening the municipal woods for the gathering of acorns. The
more zealous visit the woods the day before and select the best places.
Next day, at daybreak, the whole family is there. The father beats the
upper branches with a pole; the mother, wearing a heavy hempen apron
which enables her to force her way through the stubborn undergrowth,
gathers those within reach of the hand, while the children collect those
scattered upon the ground. First the small baskets are filled, then the
big _corbeilles_, and then the sacks.

After the field-mouse, the jay, the weevil, and so many others have
taken toll comes man, calculating how many pounds of bacon-fat his
harvest will be worth. One regret mingles with the cheer of the
occasion; it is to see so many acorns scattered o