140 HOMES WITHOUT HANDS. 



mostly under ground, and is a marvel of ingenious industry. 

 The shape is more or less globular, and the material of which it 

 is composed is very much like coarse brown paper, though not 

 so tough. If it be opened, a wonderful scene is disclosed ; 

 terrace upon terrace of hexagonal cells being arranged in regular 

 rows, and enclosed in a shell of papery substance, some half-an- 

 inch in thickness, which is evidently intended to prevent the 

 earth from falling among the combs- as these cell-terraces are 

 called. 



We will now suppose ourselves to be present at the construc- 

 tion of the nest, and, Prospero-like, wiU see without being seen. 

 In the early days of spring, a Wasp issues from the place in 

 which it has passed the winter, and anxiously surveys the 

 country. She does not fly fast nor high, but passes slowly and 

 carefully along, examining every earth-bank, and entering every 

 crevice to which she comes. At last she finds a burrow made 

 by a field mouse, or perhaps strikes upon the deserted tunnel of 

 some large burrowing insect, enters it, stays a long while within, 

 comes out again and fusses about outside, enters again, and 

 seems to make up her mind. In fact, she is house-hunting, and 

 all her movements are very like those of a careful matron select- 

 ing a new home. 



Having thus settled upon a convenient spot, she proceeds to 

 form a chamber, at some depth from the surface, breaking away 

 the soil, and carrying it out piece by piece. When she has thus 

 fashioned the chamber to her mind — for she has a mind — she 

 flies off again, and makes her way to an old wooden fence which 

 has stood for many years, and which, although not rotten, is per- 

 fectly seasoned. On this she settles, and, after running up and 

 down for a little time, she fixes upon some spot, and begins to 

 gnaw away the fibres, working with all her might, so eagerly 

 engaged that even were we not invisible we might stand by and 

 watch her proceedings. At last, she has gathered a little bundle 

 of fibres, which she gnaws and works about until she reduces 

 them to a kind of pulp, and then flies back to the burrow. 



She now runs up the side of the chamber, and clings to its 

 roof with the two last pairs of legs, while with the first pa-r, 

 aided by her jaws, she fixes the woody pulp on the roof, Iniead- 

 ing it until it forms a kind of little pillar. Another and another 

 supply is brought, until this pillar which is pendent from the 



