r country antiquity was not acquainted with the haricot. The
precious vegetable came hither by the same road as the broad bean. It is
a foreigner, and of comparatively recent introduction into Europe."

The reply of the insect merits serious examination, supported as it is
by extremely plausible arguments. Here are the facts. For years
attentive to matters agricultural, I had never seen haricots attacked by
any insect whatever; not even by the Bruchidae, the licensed robbers of
leguminous seeds.

On this point I have questioned my peasant neighbours. They are men of
the extremest vigilance in all that concerns their crops. To steal their
property is an abominable crime, swiftly discovered. Moreover, the
housewife, who individually examines all beans intended for the
saucepan, would inevitably find the malefactor.

All those I have spoken to replied to my questions with a smile in which
I read their lack of faith in my knowledge of insects. "Sir," they said,
"you must know that there are never grubs in the haricot bean. It is a
blessed vegetable, respected by the weevil. The pea, the broad bean, the
vetch, and the chick-pea all have their vermin; but the haricot, _lou
gounflo-gus_, never. What should we do, poor folk as we are, if the
_Courcoussoun_ robbed us of it?"

The fact is that the weevil despises the haricot; a very curious dislike
if we consider how industriously the other vegetables of the same family
are attacked. All, even the beggarly lentil, are eagerly exploited;
whilst the haricot, so tempting both as to size and flavour, remains
untouched. It is incomprehensible. Why should the Bruchus, which without
hesitation passes from the excellent to the indifferent, and from the
indifferent to the excellent, disdain this particularly toothsome seed?
It leaves the forest vetch for the pea, and the pea for the broad bean,
as pleased with the small as with the large, yet the temptations of the
haricot bean leave it indifferent. Why?

Apparently because the haricot is unknown to it. The other leguminous
plants, whether native or of Oriental origin, have been familiar to it
for centuries; it has tested their virtues year by year, and, confiding
in the lessons of the past, it bases its forethought for the future upon
ancient custom. The haricot is avoided as a newcomer, whose merits it
has not yet learned.

The insect emphatically informs us that with us the haricot is of recent
date. It has come to us from a dist