The Tribulations of the Mason-bee 



ful. It Is scraped up atom by atom ; and, by 

 means of saliva, it is turned into mortar then 

 and there. When It Is all well kneaded and 

 there Is enough to make a load, the Mason 

 sets off with an Impetuous flight, in a straight 

 line, and makes for her pebble, a few hun- 

 dred paces away. The trowel of fresh mor- 

 tar Is soon spent, either In adding another 

 story to the turret-shaped edifice, or in ce- 

 menting Into the wall lumps of gravel that 

 give It greater solidity. The journeys In 

 search of cement are removed until the struct- 

 ure attains the regulation height. Without 

 a moment's rest, the Bee returns a hundred 

 times to the stone-yard, always to the one 

 spot recognized as excellent. 



The victuals are now collected: honey and 

 flower-dust. If there Is a pink carpet of sain- 

 foin anywhere in the neighbourhood, 'tis there 

 that the Mason goes plundering by prefer- 

 ence, though It cost her a four hundred yards* 

 journey every time. Her crop swells with 

 honeyed exudations, her belly Is floured with 

 pollen. Back to the cell, which slowly fills; 

 and back straightway to the harvest-field. 

 And all day long, with not a sign of weari- 

 ness, the same activity is maintained as long 

 251 



