The Mason-Wasps 



goes on the roof, to enjoy yet a little of the 

 sunlight; then, her nerveless claws relinquish- 

 ing their hold, she slides quietly to the 

 ground and does not get up again. She de- 

 clines to die in her beloved paper home, 

 where the code of the Wasps ordains abso- 

 lute cleanliness. 



If the neuters, those fierce hygienists, were 

 still there, they would seize the helpless crea- 

 ture and drag her outside. Themselves the 

 first victims of the winter evil, they are lack- 

 ing; and the dying Wasp proceeds to per- 

 form her own funeral rites by dropping her- 

 self into the charnel-pit at the bottom of the 

 cavern. For reasons of health, an indi- 

 spensable condition with such a multitude, 

 these stoics refuse to die in the actual house, 

 among the combs. The last survivors re- 

 tain this repugnance to the very end. For 

 them it is a law which never falls into disuse, 

 however greatly reduced the population may 

 be. No corpse can be allowed to remain in 

 the babies' dormitory. 



My cage becomes emptier day by day, not- 

 withstanding the mild temperature of the 

 room, notwithstanding the saucer of honey 

 at which the able-bodied come to sip. At 

 Christmas I have only a dozen females left. 

 266 



