Instinct and Discernment 



already softened, with mud. Here we 

 have instinct, the unalterable characteristic 

 of the worker. She has always built in this 

 way and always will. The passing ages 

 will never teach her, neither the struggle 

 for life nor the law of selection will ever 

 induce her to imitate the Mason-bee and 

 collect dry dust for her mortar. This mud 

 nest of hers needs a shelter against the rain. 

 The hiding-place under a stone suffices at 

 first. But should she find something better, 

 the potter takes possession of that something 

 better and instals herself in the home of 

 man. There we have discernment, the 

 source of some sort of capacity for improve- 

 ment. 



The Pelopaeus supplies her larvae with 

 provisions in the form of Spiders. There 

 you have instinct. The climate, the lati- 

 tude or longitude, the changing seasons, the 

 abundance or scarcity of game introduce no 

 modification into this diet, though the 

 larva shows itself satisfied with other fare 

 provided by myself. Its forebears were 

 brought up on Spiders; their descendants 

 consumed similar food; and their posterity 

 again will know no other. Not a single cir- 

 cumstance, however favourable, will ever 

 persuade the Pelopaeus that young Crickets, 



