be described in a future page. Meanwhile, it will suffice to mention that the use of scientific terms, when speaking of these insects, is absolutely necessary, the popular mind not having recognised the different species, which are, in consequence, without popular names. Any Humble Bee, no matter what species, is known as a Bumble Bee, a Foggie, a Dumbledore, or a Hummel Bee, according to the peculiar dialect of the locality; and very few persons seem to have any idea that there can be more than one species.

THERE is one well-known and very handsome insect, which is equally disliked by the bee-keeper, the gardener, and the grocer, as it annoys them greatly in their respective callings. This is the common Wasp (Vespa vulgaris), which is equally fond of honey, fruit, and sugar; and as it is armed with a potent weapon, is not merely a hateful marauder, but a formidable enemy. The gardener, however, is the least injured of the three, for the Wasp confers upon him some slight benefits, which counteract in some degree the inroads which it makes upon his treasures. It is true that the Wasp is very fond of ripe fruit, and that with an unfailing instinct it prefers the choicest fruits, exactly when they are in their best condition, gnawing holes in them, and spoiling them for the market. Still it is more of a predacious than a vegetable-feeding insect, and kills so many flies that it relieves the gardener of other foes, which, in the end, would be more injurious than itself, inasmuch as the larva endangers not only the fruit but the very life of the plant. It is a strangely bold insect, and has recourse to singular methods of procuring food. In the farming department at Walton Hall, I have seen the pigs lying in the warm sunshine, the flies clustering thickly on their bodies, and the Wasps pouncing on the flies and carrying them off. It was a curious sight to watch the total indifference of the pigs, the busy clustering of the flies, with which the hide was absolutely blackened in some places, and then to see the yellow-bodied Wasp, just clear the wall, dart into the dark mass, and retreat again with a fly in its fatal grasp. On the average, one Wasp arrived every ten seconds, so that the pigsty must have been a well-known storehouse for these insects.

As is well known to every boy who has participated in the delight of taking a Wasp's nest, the habitation of the insect is

mostly under ground, and is a marvel of ingenious industry: The shape is more or less globular, and the material of which it is composed is very much like coarse brown paper, though not so tough. If it be opened, a wonderful scene is disclosed; terrace upon terrace of hexagonal cells being arranged in regular rows, and enclosed in a shell of papery substance, some half-aninch in thickness, which is evidently intended to prevent the earth from falling among the combs, as these cell-terraces are called.

We will now suppose ourselves to be present at the construction of the nest, and, Prospero-like, will see without being seen.

In the early days of spring, a Wasp issues from the place in which it has passed the winter, and anxiously surveys the country. She does not fly fast nor high, but passes slowly and carefully along, examining every earth-bank, and entering every crevice to which she comes. At last she finds a burrow made by a field mouse, or perhaps strikes upon the deserted tunnel of some large burrowing insect, enters it, stays a long while within, comes out again and fusses about outside, enters again, and seems to make up her mind. In fact, she is house-hunting, and all her movements are very like those of a careful matron selecting a new home.

Having thus settled upon a convenient spot, she proceeds to form a chamber, at some depth from the surface, breaking away the soil, and carrying it out piece by piece. When she has thus fashioned the chamber to her mind-for she has a mind-she flies off again, and makes her way to an old wooden fence which has stood for many years, and which, although not rotten, is perfectly seasoned. On this she settles, and, after running up and down for a little time, she fixes upon some spot, and begins to gnaw away the fibres, working with all her might, so eagerly engaged that even were we not invisible we might stand by and watch her proceedings. At last, she has gathered a little bundle of flies, which she gnaws and works about until she reduces them to a kind of pulp, and then flies back to the burrow.

She now runs up the side of the chamber, and clings to its roof with the two last pairs of legs, while with the first pair, aided by her jaws, she fixes the woody pulp on the roof, kneading it until it forms a kind of little pillar. Another and another supply is brought, until this pillar which is pendent from the

roof, like a paper-maché stalactite, is completed. The Wasp now begins to form the comb, and at the end of the pillar she places three very shallow cells, of a cup-like shape, not hexagonal, as are the completed cells. In each of these little cups she deposits an egg, and then constructs a roof over them, made from the same material as the cells, but laid in a different manner, the length of the fibres being nearly at right angles to the centre of the proposed comb. More cells are then added, eggs are laid in them, and the roof extended over them.

The eggs that were laid in the first three cells are now hatched, and have produced very tiny grubs, which are always hungry and require much attention. They grow rapidly, and, in proportion to their growth, the parent Wasp adds to the walls of their cells, so that the young grubs are suspended, with their heads downwards, as, indeed, is the custom with very many hymenopterous larvæ. The Wasp proceeds in her task, having all the cares of the nest upon her-the enlargement of the chamber, the building of the nest, the transport of materials, the deposition of the eggs, and the feeding of the ever-hungry grubs.

In due time, however, the oldest grubs cease to feed, spin a silken cover over their cells, and release their parent from further attendance upon them. In the cells they undergo the change to the perfect state, and, after they have passed a short season in retirement, they tear away the silken cover with their jaws, and come forth as perfect Wasps. As soon as they have gained strength to use their limbs, they take the heavy labours upon them, and the work goes merrily on, the mother Wasp having little to do but to deposit eggs in the cells as fast as they are made.

Before very long, the first cell-terrace is completely full, and more accommodation is needed. This is supplied in a very curious manner. Taking the junction point of these cells as the foundation, the Wasps construct several pendent pillars, exactly like the one which has already been described, and, by dint of adding cells to each, they all unite, and form a second terrace, below the first, the distance between them being just sufficiently large to permit the Wasps to cross each other. In this, as in the former terrace, all the mouths of the cell are downwards and their bases upwards, so that the bases of the second terrace form a floor on which the Wasps can walk while feeding the young

contained in the first. A third, fourth, and fifth terrace are added in this manner, all alike, the cells being so small that the mother Wasp cannot even put her head into them.

It will be seen, therefore, that, as insects never grow after they have assumed the perfect form, the Wasps which have been bred in these cells must be very much smaller than their parent. They are, in fact, the worker wasps, or neuters, as they are sometimes called, whose entire life is devoted to labour, and who, in fact, are undeveloped females.

Now, however, a change takes place. The cells of which the next few terraces are composed are of very much larger dimensions than the others, and are intended for the purpose of hatching the grubs which will afterwards become perfect male and

female wasps. It will be seen, therefore, that the workers are hatched in the earlier part of the year, and that the male and female do not make their appearance until the end of the season. The cell-terraces increase gradually in diameter until the fourth or fifth, when they usually decrease slightly, and in exact accordance with their enlargement the covering is extended over them. A large nest will contain about seven or eight thousand cells; and, on the average, each cell is the birthplace of three generations. As all the young grubs have to be fed with animal substances, usually flies, the reader can easily imagine the havoc which Wasps make in the insect world. Mr. F. Smith, however, who has given so much time and labour to this subject, remarks that as he has never found the cells of the males and females to contain the remains of more than one lining, these cells only accommodate a single brood.

The silken cover is always convex, and draws the mouth of the cell into a rounded form, so that if one of the cells is removed from the comb while the pupa is still within it, the two ends are of very similar form. The Wasps do not break through the cover in the same manner. Sometimes they burst their way through the centre, leaving a rude and rugged opening; sometimes they bite out a circular hole, and push their way through it, tearing the edges as they pass through its substance; and sometimes they cut it neatly round the edge, so that the entire covering can be lifted like the lid of an ancient tankard, and the imprisoned insect is able to emerge without any trouble, the lid closing again as soon as the inmate has escaped.

The covers of the cells are not precisely perpendicular, but radiate slightly from the centre of each comb or terrace. Nor is the flooring precisely flat, for the edges of each comb are slightly raised, so as to form a trifling concavity in the centre. At their mouths, the cells are perfectly hexagonal-those, at all events, which occupy the centre of each comb; but their bases are always cup-shaped, the walls changing gradually into hexagons as the cells increase in height, or, to be more accurate, in depth. When viewed from above, the forms of the bases are plainly perceptible, and they look very like the mosaic teeth in a skate's jaw.

The successive layers of which the cell-walls are composed can be easily seen when the comb is held to a strong side light;