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H U
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THE FLOWING BOWL
little monster made its first appearance on this
side in the year 1863. Striking an attitude,
with the exclamation, " Hallo! here's a vine,
let's have the first suck," the phylloxera com
menced a long starring engagement (to borrow
another metaphor from the theatres), which in
another fifteen years' time had developed into
an enormous success, as far as the vastatrix was
concerned. Naturally, it is the she-phylly who
does the harm. From August to October Madam
lays her little eggs on the vine-leaves, beneath the
surface. The develop late in autumn into males
and females, who migrate to the stem of the vine.
There each bold, bad female lays an egg, under
the bark. This egg lies dormant, after the
manner of pesky little insect-nuisances, through
the winter, and develops in April or May into
a wingless, voracious, merciless little "vine-
louse," with power to add to its number. " The
rest," as the mechanical engineers tell us, just
before our brains go, "is easy." The vine-
louse attacks the roots, without waiting, the silly
idiot, for the grapes to ripen, the vine dies, and
the potato reigns in its stead. Without burning
the plant, or drowning it, it is impossible to eradi
cate the phylloxera, without spending three times
as much cash, in chemicals, as the vine is worth.
This is the true story of France's great trouble.
Beetroot-spirit is also largely used in making
cognac, the coarse spirit being flavoured with
oenanthic aether, cognac-oil (made from palm-
oil) and—other things. Also of late years the
French have discovered that almost as good wine
can be made from raisins as from the uncooked