The Mason- Wasps 



and over, cuff her and drub her and drag her 

 outside crippled or, as often as not, dead. 

 The body is disdainfully rejected. 



I renew my attempts in vain; I cannot re- 

 produce the scenes which I used to witness 

 on the aster-blossoms: the capture of the 

 Eristalis and her reduction to mincemeat for 

 the larvae. Perhaps this strong animal fare 

 is distributed only on certain occasions which 

 are not realized in my cage; or perhaps — 

 and I more incline to favour this idea — 

 honey is judged to be better than meat. My 

 prisoners have plenty of it, served up fresh 

 daily. The nurselings thrive on this diet; 

 and the salmis of Flies is rejected in conse- 

 quence. 



But in the open country, in the late au- 

 tumn, fruit is scarce; and, in the absence of 

 sweet pulp, we fall back upon game. 

 Minced Eristalis may well be only a sec- 

 ondary resource of the Wasps. Their re- 

 fusal of my offerings seems to prove it. 



We will now consider the Polistes. Her 

 absolutely Wasp-like shape and costume take 

 nobody in for a moment. She is at once re- 

 cognized and is mobbed as the Eristalis was, 

 if she dare approach the honey whereat the 

 Wasps are sipping. On neither side, how- 

 ever, is there any attempt at stinging: these 

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