! 



270 INSECT LIFE xix 



and wriggle wherever the maternal kicks may have 

 landed it. It will perish unaided by its mother, 

 who could not recognise it because she was unable 

 to find the passage she was used to. If we return 

 to-morrow, we shall find it in the gallery, half-broiled 

 by the sun, and already a prey to the flies — once its 

 own prey. 



Such is the connection in acts of instinct ; one 

 leading to the next in an order that the most 

 serious circumstances have no power to alter. After 

 all, what was the Bembex seeking? Her larva, 

 evidently. But to reach this larva she had to enter 

 the burrow, and to enter the burrow she had to find 

 the door, and the mother persists in seeking this door 

 while the gallery lay open with provender and larva 

 all before her. The ruined abode, the endangered 

 family, were for the moment unimportant ; all she 

 could think of was the familiar passage reached 

 through loose sand. Let all go — habitation and 

 inhabitant — if this passage be not found I Her 

 actions are like a series of echoes, awaking one 

 another in a fixed order, the following one only 

 sounding when the preceding has sounded. Not 

 because there was any obstacle ; the burrow was 

 all open, but for want of the usual entrance the first 

 action could not take place. That decides every- 

 thing ; the first echo is mute, and so all the rest are 

 silent. What a gulf between intelligence and in- 

 stinct ! Through the ruins of the shattered dwelling 

 a mother guided by intelligence rushes straight to 

 her son ; guided by instinct she stops obstinately 

 where once was the door. 



