THE WASP. * 165 



am unable to determine. Were the larvae carried off to be nursed, 

 and to add to the swarm, or were they destined to become the food 

 of the larvae of the nest in the freebooter community ? I have 

 several times observed that swarms had deserted their nests, but 

 have only once witnessed any thing which would in any way ac- 

 count for such a proceeding." 



Sometimes the "Wasp dispenses with a burrow and becomes a 

 builder, placing its nest on a beam or under a thatched roof. In 

 this case the outer shell of the nest is much more handsome than 

 that which surrounds the subterranean combs, being of a yellow- 

 ish-brown color, and the individual flakes of which it is composed 

 being sharply defined. They are more porous than the ordinary 

 gray flakes of the underground nest, and are less capable of re- 

 sisting moisture. Before concluding this accoupt of the Wasp 

 and its nest, I may mention that the character of the insect has 

 been generally misunderstood. The popular impression is, that 

 the Wasp derives some especial gratification from the act of sting- 

 ing, is of a savage and malicious disposition, and lives wholly 

 upon the proceeds of theft. Now, in fact, the Wasp never stings 

 until it is compelled to do so, either by alarm or when it retali- 

 ates upon an adversary. It seldom survives the act of stinging, 

 because the secreted point of its weapon is held in the wound, 

 and in many cases the entire poison bag and gland are torn out 

 of the body together with the sting itself. In defense of its home 

 it can be fierce enough, as indeed it ought to be, and cares noth- 

 ing for its own life, provided that it can only inflict a wound upon 

 the enemy. 



The reader may perhaps be surprised to hear that Wasps can 

 be kept as easily as bees, and that, like those insects, they never 

 injure those with whom they are familiar. Indeed, they are even 

 less likely to sting than the hive-bees, whose olfactory nerves are 

 so sensitive that they assault any passenger who happens to have 

 been recently smoking, or who has used perfume of any kind. 

 Bees usually treat me very well ; but during the last summer, as 

 I was looking at a neighboring hive, the bees began to dash past 

 me with that peculiar menacing sound which always heralds an 

 attack. Taking warning by the sound, I retired quietly to the 

 farther end of the garden, but was followed even there by one 

 pertinacious enemy, who at last made a dash at my face, and 

 passed on, leaving its sting as a memorial of its anger. I after- 

 ward discovered that a handkerchief in my breast-coat pocket re- 



