i8o The Naturalist in La Plata. 



measure to the compassion I have always felt for 

 them. Pity, 'tis said, is akin to love ; and who can 

 help experiencing that tender emotion that considers 

 the heavy affliction nature has laid on the spiders 

 in compensation for the paltry drop of venom with 

 which she, unasked, endowed them ! And here, of 

 course, I am alluding to the wasps. These insects, 

 with a refinement of cruelty, prefer not to kill their 

 victims outright, but merely maim them, then house 

 them in cells where the grubs can vivisect them at 

 leisure. This is one of those revolting facts the 

 fastidious soul cannot escape from in warm climates ; 

 for in and out of open windows and doors, all day 

 long, all the summer through, comes the busy 

 beautiful mason-wasp. A long body, wonderfully 

 slim at the waist, bright yellow legs and thorax, 

 and a dark crimson abdomen, what object can be 

 prettier to look at ? But in her life this wasp is 

 not beautiful. At home in summer they were the 

 pests of my life, for nothing would serve to keep 

 them out. One day, while we were seated at dinner, 

 a clay nest, which a wasp had succeeded in complet- 

 ing unobserved, detached itself from the ceiling and 

 fell with a crash on to the table, where it was 

 shattered to pieces, scattering a shower of green 

 half-living spiders round it. I shall never forget 

 the feeling of intense repugnance I experienced at 

 the sight, coupled with detestation of the pretty 

 but cruel little architect. There is, amongst our 

 wasps, even a more accomplished spider-scourge 

 than the mason-wasp, and I will here give a brief 

 account of its habits. On the grassy pampas, dry 

 bare spots of soil are resorted to by a class of 



