grass on damp boggy ground, and was shaded by 

 trees until ten in the morning and was again in the 

 shade at four in the afternoon, so that on several 

 showery days the place remained wet and cool nearly 

 all day, while during every cool night, it was covered 

 with heavy, dripping dew. 



For a week I visited the nest several times a day. 



On warm, sunny days, there arose a sharp angry 

 buzzing as soon as I touched it and several of the 

 inmates came out at once to drive off the intruder. 

 But these big wild bees, although well armed and 

 prepared for war, were nevertheless a peaceful race. 

 As I stood quietly a few feet from the nest, they never 

 came to attack me, and soon went back to the nest, 

 as if satisified that they had been called out by a 

 false alarm. One evening after dark, I found a large 

 bee that had evidently lingered too long on the lobe- 

 lias and thistles, benumbed on the damp moss. I 

 placed it on the nest and after a few minutes, it had 

 crawled inside. 



While I always found some of the bees at home, the 

 number never exceeded six or seven individuals. 



My own observations, compared with those of a 

 friend led me to believe that bumblebees, in contrast 

 with the habits of honey-bees, do not try to reach 

 home every evening, but are in the habit of staying 

 out nights, even to the extent of being out several 

 nights in succession. 



I have often found them, especially late in summer 

 and in September, sitting benumbed and apparently 

 asleep under a thistle flower or goldenrod. If one 

 touches them, they try to push the intruding object 



10 



