keep myself informed as to the progress of the various larvae. At first
nothing noteworthy is to be seen. Isolated in its narrow chamber, each
grub nibbles the substance around it, peacefully and parsimoniously. It
is still very small; a mere speck of food is a feast; but the contents
of one pea will not suffice the whole number to the end. Famine is
ahead, and all but one must perish.

Soon, indeed, the aspect of things is entirely changed. One of the
grubs--that which occupies the central position in the pea--begins to
grow more quickly than the others. Scarcely has it surpassed the others
in size when the latter cease to eat, and no longer attempt to burrow
forwards. They lie motionless and resigned; they die that gentle death
which comes to unconscious lives. Henceforth the entire pea belongs to
the sole survivor. Now what has happened that these lives around the
privileged one should be thus annihilated? In default of a satisfactory
reply, I will propose a suggestion.

In the centre of the pea, less ripened than the rest of the seed by the
chemistry of the sun, may there not be a softer pulp, of a quality
better adapted to the infantile digestion of the grub? There, perhaps,
being nourished by tenderer, sweeter, and perhaps, more tasty tissues,
the stomach becomes more vigorous, until it is fit to undertake less
easily digested food. A nursling is fed on milk before proceeding to
bread and broth. May not the central portion of the pea be the
feeding-bottle of the Bruchid?

With equal rights, fired by an equal ambition, all the occupants of the
pea bore their way towards the delicious morsel. The journey is
laborious, and the grubs must rest frequently in their provisional
niches. They rest; while resting they frugally gnaw the riper tissues