The Mason-bees 



Let us suppose that they have crossed a 

 thick heap of dead leaves, representing to 

 them a path beset with yawning gulfs, where 

 every moment some one falls, where many 

 are exhausted as they struggle out of the hol- 

 lows and reach the heights by means of sway- 

 ing bridges, emerging at last from the laby- 

 rinth of lanes. No matter: on their return, 

 they will not fail, though weighed down with 

 their burden, once more to struggle through 

 that weary maze. To avoid all this fatigue, 

 they would have but to swerve slightly from 

 the original path, for the good, smooth road 

 is there, hardly a step away. This little devi- 

 ation never occurs to them. 



I came upon them one day when they were 

 on one of their raids. They were marching 

 along the inner edge of the stone-work of the 

 garden-pond, where I have replaced the old 

 batrachians by a colony of Gold-fish. The 

 wind was blowing very hard from the north 

 and, taking the column in flank, sent whole 

 rows of the Ants flying into the water. The 

 fish hurried up ; they watched the performance 

 and gobbled up the drowning insects. It was 

 a diflicult bit; and the column was decimated 

 before it had passed. I expected to see the 

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