no attention to it, because I knew that these insects, 

 although well prepared to defend themselves, hardly 

 ever sting unless their nests are disturbed. When, 

 however, several angry bees began to buzz around me 

 and one of them stung me on the head, I knew that 

 I had come too close to their nest and I left the place 

 without taking time to gather the grass I had cut. 



About ten o'clock that evening, when the air had 

 grown so cool that the bees could not fly, I went back 

 with a lantern to find the nest. Gently tapping the 

 ground with a stick, I soon located the nest by the 

 sharp angry buzzing of a small chorus hidden in a 

 round ball of moss, which seemed to be a deserted 

 mouse nest of last winter, but on this point I am not 

 sure. 



AVhen I carefully opened the nest and took out 

 the small irregular comb of cells, I found the number 

 of bees at home unexpectedly small. Scarcely half a 

 dozen of them were crawling about slowly vibrating 

 their wings and buzzing in a high angry tone. 



Next morning, I examined the comb. It consisted 

 of about a dozen cells of a blackish waxy substance, 

 built on moss and a dead leaf. Eight of the cells 

 were closed, and filled with larvae, but, although the 

 whole comb smelled of honey, the cells which did not 

 contain larvae were entirely empty. 



In the evening, I returned the comb to the nest 

 which I covered up again as carefully as possible. At 

 this time too only a few of the bees were at home. 



To my human mind the place seemed ill chosen for 

 the home of an insect w r hose very life depends on 

 flowers and sunshine. The nest was placed in tall 



9 



