The Life of the Fly 



have all the cells before our eyes, together 

 with their contents, consisting of a silky, am- 

 ber-yellow cocoon, as delicate and transulcent 

 as an onion-peeling. Let us split the dainty 

 wrapper with the scissors, chamber by cham- 

 ber, nest by nest. If fortune be at all pro- 

 pitious, as it always is to the persevering, 

 we shall end by finding that the cocoons har- 

 bour two larvae together, one more or less 

 faded in appearance, the other fresh and 

 plump. We shall also find some, no less plenti- 

 ful, in which the withered larva Is accom- 

 panied by a family of little grubs wriggling 

 uneasily around it. 



Examination at once reveals the tragedy 

 that is happening under the cover of the co- 

 coon. The flacid and faded larva Is the 

 Mason-bee's. A month ago. In June, having 

 finished its mess of honey, it wove its silken 

 sheath for a bedchamber wherein to take the 

 long sleep which Is the prelude to the meta- 

 morphosis. Bulging with fat, it is a rich and 

 defenceless morsel for whoso Is able to reach 

 it. Then, in spite of apparently unsurmount- 

 able obstacles, the mortar wall and the tent 

 without an opening, the flesh-eating larvae ap- 

 peared in the secret retreat and are now glut- 

 ting themselves on the sleeper. Three dlffer- 

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