ONE-BANOKD DAUBER 423 



lier iiuikin*;' wliich I have opened for inspection. It contains 

 twelve cells and as nianv cocoons, ten of wliich have been 

 burst open by the young wasps who alas, lie dead and shriv- 

 eled in their cells. Their heads face the mortar-plugged 

 doors of the prison which bear marks of frantic efforts to 

 escape, yet each has died of starvation, unable to reach the 

 outer world. 



Herein lies the reward of stupidity. The dauber, whose 

 life seems made up of errors, chose for her nest the first mor- 

 tar that she chanced to find. It was not the soft grey mud 

 from a puddle on the sandy orange surface of the clearing, 

 but a pasty yellow clay. It kneaded admirably when soft 

 and fresh but in hardening turned to rock. The offspring 

 grew normally within, spun their cocoons and passed suc- 

 cessfully to finished insects, but were unable to emerge. 

 They hammered and gnawed and scraped at the mortar; 

 the nest bore evidence of the effort put forth, but all in vain. 

 The mortar resisted and the young wasps died. Thus on the 

 very eve of their emergence the dauber's offspring were ob- 

 literated by her stupidity. I wonder, even if there were a 

 tiny glinmier of intelligence in her little dome, whether she 

 W'Ould see the error of her wavs? 



