158 MY STUDIO NEIGHBORS 



and are away in a glittering blue tangle, which 

 finally concentrates itself upon a neighboring leaf, 

 where the eager tippling is immediately resumed. 

 The wasp now holds the fort, and seems in no 

 mood to be trifled with. With head and fore feet 

 upraised and open jaws he seems "spoiling for a 

 fight," and ready to make war upon the first 

 comer. But no, he is evidently expecting a 

 friend that, I now observe, approaches him deter- 

 minedly down the stem of the leaf. The new- 

 comer, a brown wasp like himself, is now at close 

 range, and in an instant more, without any visible 

 courteous preliminaries, the two set upon each 

 other with a common enthusiasm, and with jaws 

 working and stings fencing the interlocked com- 

 batants fall to the ground for a finish. I presume 

 the affair was carried to the fourteenth round 

 without any undue interference. 



Another and another of these friendly meetings 

 between them and other wasps took place in the 

 half-hour in which I watched the sport. There 

 were lulls in hostilities, during which an atmos- 

 phere of perfect peace and harmony seemed to 

 reign around my bramble -bush. The flies were 

 motionless in their ecstasy, and the hornet ele- 

 ment seemed by common consent to keep tempo- 

 rarily shady, and even the butterflies seemed to 



