Others, more happily inspired, perceiving a vague resemblance between the sacerdotal ornament, the stole, and the white bands that run down the Weevil’s back, have proposed the name of Stoled Larinus (L. stolatus, Gmel.). This term would please me; it gives a very good picture of the insect. The Bear, making nonsense, has prevailed. So be it: non nobis tantas componere lites.
The domain of this Weevil is the corymbed carlina (C. corymbosa, Lin.), a slender thistle, not devoid of elegance, harsh-looking though it be. Its heads, with their tough, yellow-varnished [[45]]spokes, expand into a fleshy mass, a genuine heart, like an artichoke’s, which is defended by a hedge of savage folioles broadly welded at the base. It is at the centre of this palatable heart that the larva is established, always singly.
Each has its exclusive demesne, its inviolable ration. When an egg, a single egg, has been entrusted to the mass of florets, the mother moves on, to continue elsewhere; and, should some newcomer by mistake take possession of it, her grub, arriving too late and finding the place occupied, will die.
This isolation tells us how the larva feeds. The carlina’s foster-child cannot live on a clear broth, as does the echinops’; for, if the drops trickling from a wound were sufficient, there would be victuals for several here. The blue thistle feeds three or four boarders without any loss of solid material beyond that resulting from a slight gash. Given such coy-toothed feeders, the heart of the carline thistle would support quite as many.
It is always, on the contrary, the portion of one alone. Thus we already guess that the grub of the Bear Larinus does not confine itself to lapping up discharges of sap and that it likewise feeds upon its artichoke-heart, the standing dish.
The adult also feeds upon it. On the cone covered with imbricated folioles it makes spacious excavations in which the sweet milk of the plant hardens into white beads. But these broken [[46]]victuals, these cut cakes off which the Weevil has made her meal, are disdained when the egg-laying comes into question, in June and July. A choice is then made of untouched heads, not as yet developed, not yet expanded and still contracted into prickly globules. The interior will be tenderer than after they are full-blown.
The method is the same as that of the Spotted Larinus. With her rostral gimlet the mother bores a hole through the scales, on a level with the base of the florets; then, with the aid of her guiding probe, she installs her opalescent white egg at the bottom of the shaft. A week later the grub makes its appearance.
Some time in August let us open the thistle-heads. Their contents are very diverse. There are larvæ here of all ages; nymphs covered with reddish ridges, above all on the last segments, twitching violently and spinning round when disturbed; lastly, perfect insects, not yet adorned with their stoles and other ornaments of the final costume. We have before our eyes the means of following the whole development of the Weevil at the same time.
The folioles of the blossom, those stout halberds, are welded together at their base and enclose within their rampart a fleshy mass, with a flat upper surface and cone-shaped underneath. This is the larder of the Bear Larinus.
From the bottom of its cell the new-born grub [[47]]dives forthwith into this fleshy mass. It cuts into it deep. Unreservedly, respecting only the walls, it digs itself, in a couple of weeks, a recess shaped like a sugar-loaf and prolonged until it touches the stalk. The canopy of this recess is a dome of florets and hairs forced upwards and held in place by an adhesive. The artichoke-heart is completely emptied; nothing is respected save the scaly walls.