The back knife, secured to the frame for trimming the base of the slug as it is carried past by the revolving wheel, should be kept moderately sharp and adjusted so as to fit closely against the back of the passing mold. Particular attention should be paid to this feature. The edge of the knife must bear uniformly across the face of the mold. [Illustration: Fig. 16.] The front knives, between which the slug is ejected, should not be made too sharp. After being sharpened, the thin edge can be advantageously removed by the use of a thin oilstone applied against the side face; that is, against the face past which the slug is carried. The stationary or left-hand knife should be so adjusted as to align exactly with the inner side of the mold. Under proper conditions this knife does not trim the side face of the slug, but acts only to remove any slight fins or projections at the front edge. The right-hand knife, adjustable by means of a wedge and lever, should stand exactly parallel with the stationary knife. It trims the side of the slug on which the ribs are formed, and it serves to bring the slug to the exact thickness required. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 2: From Theodore L. De Vinne's _Modern Methods of Book Composition_, pp. 403-425. The Century Company, New York, 1904.] THE EXPOSITION OF A PROCESS IN NATURE THE PEA WEEVIL[3] _Jean Henri Fabre_ Peas are held in high esteem by mankind. From remote ages man has endeavored, by careful culture, to produce larger, tenderer, and sweeter varieties. Of an adaptable character, under careful treatment the plant has evolved in a docile fashion, and has ended by giving us what the ambition of the gardener desired. To-day we have gone far beyond the yield of the Varrons and Columelles, and further still beyond the original pea; from the wild seeds confided to the soil by the first man who thought to scratch up the surface of the earth, perhaps with the half-jaw of a cave-bear, whose powerful canine tooth would serve him as a ploughshare! Where is it, this original pea, in the world of spontaneous vegetation? Our own country has nothing resembling it. Is it to be found elsewhere? On this point botany is silent, or replies only with vague probabilities. We find the same ignorance elsewhere on the subject of the majority of our alimentary vegetables. Whence comes wheat, the blessed grain which gives us bread? No one knows. You will not find it here, except in the care of man; nor will you find it abroad. In the East, the birthplace of agriculture, no botanist has ever encountered the sacred ear growing of itself on unbroken soil.