The Common Wasp 



table-quarrels are not worth the drawing of a 

 dagger. Realizing that she is the weaker 

 and that she is not at home, the Polistes re- 

 tires. She will come back again and so per- 

 sistently that the diners end by allowing her to 

 take her seat beside them, a concession very 

 rarely made to the Eristalis. This toleration 

 does not last long: if the Polistes but venture 

 on the combs, this alone arouses a terrible 

 anger and brings about the death of the in- 

 truder. No, it is not a good thing to enter 

 the Wasps'-nest, even when the stranger 

 wears the same uniform, pursues the same in- 

 dustry and is almost a fellow-member of the 

 corporation. 



Let us now try the Bumble-bee. Here is 

 a male, quite a small one, clad in russet. 

 The poor little beggar is threatened and even 

 hustled, but no more, each time that he passes 

 near a Wasp. Now, however, the scatter- 

 brain comes tumbling from the top of the 

 trelliswork and drops on a comb, in the midst 

 of the busy nurses. I am all eyes as I follow 

 the tragedy. One of them seizes the Bum- 

 ble-bee by the neck and stabs him in the 

 breast. A few convulsions of the legs fol- 

 low; and the Bumble-bee is dead. Two 

 other Wasps come to the murderess' assis- 

 tance and help her drag the deceased out- 

 279 



