The Cureulio is a hard, black, rough beetle. A handful of them, when at rest, with their legs and probosces folded under them, could be mistaken for a handful of hemp-seeds. Like other beetles, their wings, when not using them, are covered by a case or shell; the proboscis is long in proportion to their size, and is the instrument with which they puncture the fruit, and is not, as some suppose, an ovipositor. (See plate).

Persons familiar with the Cureulio seldom see them fly, though it is supposed that they pass from tree to tree, or from orchard to orchard, upon the wing. Sometimes, when jarred from the tree, they will open their wings, and instead of falling, will come down at an angle, and light on some distant part of the sheet, or on your person, or sometimes even fly off to another tree. I have never seen them use their wings in passing from one part of the tree to another. In cool weather they walk about deliberately, but in the middle of hot days they are in a greater hurry, and fairly run. In cold, wet weather they are perfectly quiet, and are concealed under portions of bark, or in the crevices of old wounds or knots in the body or large branches of Plum-trees. Like other insects, in their last or winged state, the object of life is to arrange for the continuation of their race. In their larva or grub condition, they were nearly* all stomach, and eating occupied their entire time; now, they have no stomach of any account, and they scarcely eat at all; consequently, they soon become exhausted, and towards the last are but mere shells.

The mark upon the fruit made by the Cureulio is crescent-shaped, (and from that circumstance she is sometimes called the Turk,) and looks like the indentation of the little finger nail of an infant, and the reason it is so is, that the insect, while making it, remains standing on the fruit in the same position, only moving its head. When this crescent-shaped incision is completed, she introduces her proboscis its full length, from the center of the crescent towards where she stands, and immediately under the skin of the fruit, and at the bottom of this puncture enlarges, so as to be suitable for the reception of the egg. This done, she turns and deposits the destined egg at the entrance of this tube; then turning again, with her proboscis pushes it gently to its proper place. What remains now is to secure the precious deposit from any danger from exposure to the air or weather, as would be likely to occur by the growth of the fruit opening the wounded part. This she does by carefully plastering up the entire incision by a kind of wax, of which she seems always to have the requisite supply.

I have often, when watch-ing this operation, and especially at that part of it when her proboscis is buried up to her very head, been struck with her resemblance to the woodcock when his beak is entirely imbedded in the ground.

The Curculio seldom deposits more than one egg in a fruit. Whether the duplicates or triplets that are sometimes found in our fruits belong to the same mother, is hard to say, but I suppose not If a Curculio, however, is confined in a bottle with but one plum, she will puncture it all over, so that it will sometimes have the appearance of a nutmeg-grater. The time occupied in each operation is eight or ten minutes, and is repeated some twenty times each day for several weeks.

In the early part of the season, while the weather is cool, the Curculio egg will not hatch in less than ten days or two weeks, and any time during that period it may be taken out with the point of a penknife, or, what is better, a rather blunt toothpick, or it may be broken by pressing with the thumb-nail over the spot where it is deposited, and if your ear is a right good one, you may even hear the snap. In either way you may save the fruity the wound soon grows over, scarcely leaving a blemish. It is well to know this, especially if you have young trees bearing for the first time, and you are anxious .to test the fruit. It can even be done repeatedly; but remember, it must be done before the hatching, and in very warm " weather this takes place very quick - even as early as four or five days - and the moment the young insect is free, it makes its way rapidly towards the heart of the fruit, leaving a pathway at first so fine as hardly to be visible. If you see gum about the orifice of the wound, it is too late, the mischief has been done.

Fruit punctured by this insect continues to grow even after the larva has penetrated to the center, but finally its vitality, if it is stone fruit, becomes destroyed, and it falls to the ground, though not till the young insect is almost full grown.

With the Cherry, the fruit matures almost as soon as the grub of the Curculio, and those who eat the first that appear to be ripe, will often encounter this worm, and it is needless to give all such people any description of its personal appearance.

Here the cedar birds, the robins, and even the crows come in to our advantage - let them alone. The boys will be getting out their guns, and sending for powder and shot - stop them; these are only premature cherries, generally red on one side only, and in that side a worm; let the birds have them - your crop of cherries will be the better the next year.

You will find plump, fat, full-grown specimens of the larva of the Curculio in your apricots, in your earlier apples, in the Early York peaches, and in some of your plums. Apples in June and July will be falling by millions: some are only blights - an effort of nature to guard against overbearing; but most of them will be wormy - the embyro Curculio of the next year. Pears and quinces suffer less than the above, but you may often see the crescent mark on these also; and should the more favorite fruits fail, these varieties could and would be used to prolong the race. I have seen the crescent mark even on berries in the woods, and when all the fruits fail, or before any of them are ready, she will deposit her eggs in the bark of the plum-tree itself.