The Glow-Worm and Other Beetles Part 2

CHAPTER III THE PRIMARY LARVA OF THE SITARES

Nothing new happens before the end of the following April. I shall profit by this long period of repose to tell you more about the young larva, of which I will begin by giving a description. Its length is a twenty-fifth of an inch, or a little less. It is hard as leather, a glossy greenish black, convex above and flat below, long and slender, with a diameter increasing gradually from the head to the hinder extremity of the metathorax, after which it rapidly diminishes. Its head is a trifle longer than it is wide and is slightly dilated at the base; it is pale-red near the mouth and darker about the ocelli.

The labrum forms a segment of a circle; it is reddish, edged with a small number of very short, stiff hairs. The mandibles are powerful, red-brown, curved and sharp; when at rest they meet without crossing.

The maxillary palpi are rather long, consisting of two cylindrical sections of equal length, the outer ending in a very short bristle.

The jaws and the lower lip are not sufficiently visible to lend themselves to accurate description.

The antennae consist of two cylindrical segments, equal in length, not very definitely divided; these segments are nearly as long as those of the palpi; the outer is surmounted by a cirrus whose length is as much as thrice that of the head and tapers off until it becomes invisible under a powerful pocket-lens. Behind the base of either antennae are two ocelli, unequal in size and almost touching.

The thoracic segments are of equal length and increase gradually in width from front to back. The prothorax is wider than the head, but is narrower in front than at the base and is slightly rounded at the sides. The legs are of medium length and fairly robust, ending in a long, powerful, sharp and very mobile claw. On the haunch and thigh of each leg is a long cirrus, like that of the antennae, almost as long as the whole limb and standing at right angles to the plane of locomotion when the creature moves. There are a few stiff bristles on the legs.

The abdomen has nine segments, of practically equal length, but shorter than those of the thorax and diminishing very rapidly in width toward the last. Fixed below the eighth segment, or rather below the strip of membrane separating this segment and the last, we see two spikes, slightly curved, short, but with strong, sharp, hard points, and placed one to the right and the other to the left of the median line. These two appendages are able, by means of a mechanism recalling, on a smaller scale, that of the Snail's horns, to withdraw into themselves, as a result of the membranous character of their base. They can also retreat under the eighth segment, borne, as they are, by the a.n.a.l segment, when this last, as it contracts, withdraws into the eighth. Lastly, the ninth or a.n.a.l segment bears on its hinder edge two long cirri, like those of the legs and the antennae, curving backwards from tip to base. At the rear of this segment a fleshy nipple appears, more or less prominent; this is the a.n.u.s. I do not know where the stigmata are placed; they have evaded my investigations, though these were undertaken with the aid of the microscope.

When the larva is at rest, the various segments overlap evenly; and the membranous intervals, corresponding with the articulations, do not show. But, when the larva walks, all the articulations, especially those of the abdominal segments, are distended and end by occupying almost as much s.p.a.ce as the h.o.r.n.y arches. At the same time the a.n.a.l segment emerges from the sheath formed by the eighth; the a.n.u.s, in turn, is stretched into a nipple; and the two points of the penultimate ring rise, at first slowly, and then suddenly stand up with an abrupt motion similar to that of a spring when released. In the end, these two points diverge like the horns of a crescent. Once this complex apparatus is unfolded, the tiny creature is ready to crawl upon the most slippery surface.

The last segment and its a.n.a.l b.u.t.ton are curved at right angles to the axis of the body; and the a.n.u.s comes and presses upon the surface of locomotion, where it ejects a tiny drop of transparent, treacly fluid, which glues and holds the little creature firmly in position, supported on a sort of tripod formed by the a.n.a.l b.u.t.ton and the two cirri of the last segment. If we are observing the animal's manner of locomotion on a strip of gla.s.s, we can hold the strip in a vertical position, or even turn it upside down, or shake it lightly, without causing the larva to become detached and fall, held fast as it is by the glutinous secretion of the a.n.a.l b.u.t.ton.

If it has to proceed along a surface where there is no danger of a fall, the microscopic creature employs another method. It crooks its belly and, when the two spikes of the eighth segment, now fully outspread, have found a firm support by ploughing, so to speak, the surface of locomotion, it bears upon that base and pushes forward by expanding the various abdominal articulations. This forward movement is also a.s.sisted by the action of the legs, which are far from remaining inactive. This done, it casts anchor with the powerful claws of its feet; the abdomen contracts; the various segments draw together; and the a.n.u.s, pulled forward, obtains a fresh purchase, with the aid of the two spikes, before beginning the second of these curious strides.

During these manoeuvres, the cirri of the flanks and thighs drag along the supporting surface and by their length and elasticity appear fitted only to impede progress. But let us not be in a hurry to conclude that we have discovered an inconsistency: the least of creatures is adapted to the conditions amid which it has to live; there is reason to believe that these filaments, far from hampering the pigmy's progress, must, in normal circ.u.mstances, be of some a.s.sistance to it.

Even the little that we have just learnt shows us that the young Sitaris-larva is not called upon to move on an ordinary surface. The spot, whatever it may be like, where this larva is to live later exposes it to the risk of many dangerous falls, since, in order to prevent them, it is not only equipped with strong and extremely mobile talons and a steel-shod crescent, a sort of ploughshare capable of biting into the most highly polished substance, but is further provided with a viscous liquid, sufficiently tenacious and adhesive to hold it in position without the help of other appliances. In vain I racked my brains to guess what the substance might be, so shifting, so uncertain and so perilous, which the young Sitares are destined to inhabit; and I discovered nothing to explain the necessity for the structure which I have described. Convinced beforehand, by an attentive examination of this structure, that I should witness some peculiar habits, I waited with eager impatience for the return of the warm weather, never doubting that by dint of persevering observation the mystery would be disclosed to me next spring. At last this spring, so fervently desired, arrived; I brought to bear all the patience, all the imagination, all the insight and discernment that I may possess; but, to my utter shame and still greater regret, the secret escaped me. Oh, how painful are those tortures of indecision, when one has to postpone till the following year an investigation which has led to no result!

My observations made during the spring of 1856, although purely negative, nevertheless have an interest of their own, because they prove the inaccuracy of certain suppositions to which the undeniable parasitism of the Sitares naturally inclines us. I will therefore relate them in a few words. At the end of April, the young larvae, hitherto motionless and concealed in the spongy heap of the egg-skins, emerge from their immobility, scatter and run about in all directions through the boxes and jars in which they have pa.s.sed the winter. By their hurried gait and their indefatigable evolutions we readily guess that they are seeking something which they lack. What can this something be, unless it be food? For remember that these larvae were hatched at the end of September and that since then, that is to say, for seven long months, they have taken no nourishment, though they have spent this period in the full enjoyment of their vitality, as I was able to a.s.sure myself all through the winter by irritating them, and not in a state of torpor similar to that of the hibernating animals. From the moment of their hatching they are doomed, although full of life, to an absolute abstinence of seven months' duration; and it is natural to suppose, when we see their present excitement, that an imperious hunger sets them bustling in this fashion.

The desired nourishment could only be the contents of the cells of the Anthophora, since we afterwards find the Sitares in these cells. Now these contents are limited to honey or larvae. It just happens that I have kept some Anthophora-cells occupied by larvae or nymphs. I place a few of these, some open, some closed, within reach of the young Sitares, as I had already done directly after the hatching. I even slip the Sitares into the cells: I place them on the sides of the larva, a succulent morsel to all appearances; I do all sorts of things to tempt their appet.i.te; and, after exhausting my ingenuity, which continues fruitless, I remain convinced that my famished grubs are seeking neither the larvae nor nymphs of the Anthophora.

Let us now try honey. We must obviously employ honey prepared by the same species of Anthophora as that at whose cost the Sitares live. But this Bee is not very common in the neighbourhood of Avignon; and my engagements at the college[1] do not allow me to absent myself for the purpose of repairing to Carpentras, where she is so abundant. In hunting for cells provisioned with honey I thus lose a good part of the month of May; however, I end by finding some which are newly sealed and which belong to the right Anthophora. I open these cells with the feverish impatience of a sorely-tried longing. All goes well: they are half-full of fluid, dark, nauseating honey, with the Bee's lately-hatched larva floating on the surface. This larva is removed; and taking a thousand precautions, I lay one or more Sitares on the surface of the honey. In other cells I leave the Bee's larva and insert Sitares, placing them sometimes on the honey and sometimes on the inner wall of the cell or simply at the entrance. Lastly, all the cells thus prepared are put in gla.s.s tubes, which enable me to observe them readily, without fear of disturbing my famished guests at their meal.

[Footnote 1: Fabre, as a young man, was a master at Avignon College.

Cf. _The Life of the Fly_: chaps. xii., xiii., xix. and xx.--_Translator's Note_.]

But what am I saying? Their meal? There is no meal! The Sitares, placed at the entrance to a cell, far from seeking to make their way in, leave it and go roaming about the gla.s.s tube; those which have been placed on the inner surface of the cells, near the honey, emerge precipitately, half-caught in the glue and tripping at every step; lastly, those which I thought I had favoured the most, by placing them on the honey itself, struggle, become entangled in the sticky ma.s.s and perish in it, suffocated. Never did experiment break down so completely! Larvae, nymphs, cells, honey: I have offered you them all!

Then what do you want, you fiendish little creatures?

Tired of all these fruitless attempts, I ended where I ought to have begun: I went to Carpentras. But it was too late: the Anthophora had finished her work; and I did not succeed in seeing anything new.

During the course of the year I learnt from Leon Dufour,[2] to whom I had spoken of the Sitares, that the tiny creature which he had found on the Andrenae[3] and described under the generic name of Triungulinus, was recognized later by Newport[4] as the larva of a Meloe, or Oil-beetle. Now it so happened that I had found a few Oil-beetles in the cells of the same Anthophora that nourishes the Sitares. Could there be a similarity of habits between the two kinds of insects? This idea threw a sudden light for me upon the subject; but I had plenty of time in which to mature my plans: I had another year to wait.

[Footnote 2: Jean Marie Leon Dufour (1780-1865), an army surgeon who served with distinction in several campaigns, and subsequently practised as a doctor in the Landes, where he attained great eminence as a naturalist. Fabre often refers to him as the Wizard of the Landes. Cf. _The Life of the Spider_, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. i.; and _The Life of the Fly_: chap. i.--_Translator's Note_.]

[Footnote 3: A genus of Burrowing Bee, the most numerous in species among the British Bees.--_Translator's Note_.]

[Footnote 4: George Newport (1803-1854), an English surgeon and naturalist, president of the Entomological Society from 1844 to 1845 and an expert in insect anatomy.--_Translator's Note_.]

When April came, my Sitaris-larvae began, as usual, to bestir themselves. The first Bee to appear, an Osmia, is dropped alive into a gla.s.s jar containing a few of these larvae; and after a lapse of some fifteen minutes I inspect them through the pocket-lens. Five Sitares are embedded in the fleece of the thorax. It is done, the problem's solved! The larvae of the Sitares, like those of the Oil-beetles, cling like grim death to the fleece of their generous host and make him carry them into the cell. Ten times over I repeat the experiment with the various Bees that come to plunder the lilac flowering outside my window and in particular with male Anthophorae; the result is still the same: the larvae embed themselves in the hair of the Bees' thorax. But after so many disappointments one becomes distrustful and it is better to go and observe the facts upon the spot; besides, the Easter holidays fall very conveniently and afford me the leisure for my observations.

I will admit that my heart was beating a little faster than usual when I found myself once again standing in front of the perpendicular bank in which the Anthophora nests. What will be the result of the experiment? Will it once more cover me with confusion? The weather is cold and rainy; not a Bee shows herself on the few spring flowers that have come out. Numbers of Anthophorae cower, numbed and motionless, at the entrance to the galleries. With the tweezers, I extract them one by one from their lurking-places, to examine them under the lens. The first has Sitaris-larvae on her thorax; so has the second; the third and fourth likewise; and so on, as far as I care to pursue the examination. I change galleries ten times, twenty times; the result is invariable. Then, for me, occurred one of the moments which come to those who, after considering and reconsidering an idea for years and years from every point of view, are at last able to cry: "Eureka!"

On the days that followed, a serene and balmy sky enabled the Anthophorae to leave their retreats and scatter over the countryside and despoil the flowers. I renewed my examination on those Anthophorae flying incessantly from one flower to another, whether in the neighbourhood of the places where they were born or at great distances from these places. Some were without Sitaris-larvae; others, more numerous, had two, three, four, five or more among the hairs of their thorax. At Avignon, where I have not yet seen _Sitaris humeralis_, the same species of Anthophora, observed at almost the same season, while pillaging the lilac-blossom, was always free of young Sitaris-grubs; at Carpentras, on the contrary, where there is not a single Anthophora-colony without Sitares, nearly three-quarters of the specimens which I examined carried a few of these larvae in their fleece.

But, on the other hand, if we look for these larvae in the entrance-lobbies where we found them, a few days ago, piled up in heaps, we no longer see them. Consequently, when the Anthophorae, having opened their cells, enter the galleries to reach the exit and fly away, or else when the bad weather and the darkness bring them back there for a time, the young Sitaris-larvae, kept on the alert in these same galleries by the stimulus of instinct, attach themselves to the Bees, wriggling into their fur and clutching it so firmly that they need not fear a fall during the long journeys of the insect which carries them. By thus attaching themselves to the Anthophorae the young Sitares evidently intend to get themselves carried, at the opportune moment, into the victualled cells.

One might even at first sight believe that they live for some time on the Anthophora's body, just as the ordinary parasites, the various species of Lice, live on the body of the animal that feeds them. But not at all. The young Sitares, embedded in the fleece, at right angles to the Anthophora's body, head inwards, rump outwards, do not stir from the point which they have selected, a point near the Bee's shoulders. We do not see them wandering from spot to spot, exploring the Anthophora's body, seeking the part where the skin is more delicate, as they would certainly do if they were really deriving some nourishment from the juices of the Bee. On the contrary, they are nearly always established on the toughest and hardest part of the Bee's body, on the thorax, a little below the insertion of the wings, or, more rarely, on the head; and they remain absolutely motionless, fixed to the same hair, by means of the mandibles, the feet, the closed crescent of the eighth segment and, lastly, the glue of the a.n.a.l b.u.t.ton. If they chance to be disturbed in this position, they reluctantly repair to another point of the thorax, pushing their way through the insect's fur and in the end fastening on to another hair, as before.

To confirm my conviction that the young Sitaris-grubs do not feed on the Anthophora's body, I have sometimes placed within their reach, in a gla.s.s jar, some Bees that have long been dead and are completely dried up. On these dry corpses, fit at most for gnawing, but certainly containing nothing to suck, the Sitaris-larvae took up their customary position and there remained motionless as on the living insect. They obtain nothing, therefore, from the Anthophora's body; but perhaps they nibble her fleece, even as the Bird-lice nibble the birds'

feathers?

To do this, they would require mouth-parts endowed with a certain strength and, in particular, h.o.r.n.y and st.u.r.dy jaws, whereas their jaws are so fine that a microscopic examination failed to show them to me.

The larvae, it is true, are provided with powerful mandibles; but these finely-pointed mandibles, with their backward curve, though excellent for tugging at food and tearing it to pieces, are useless for grinding it or gnawing it. Lastly, we have a final proof of the pa.s.sive condition of the Sitaris-larvae on the body of the Anthophorae in the fact that the Bees do not appear to be in any way incommoded by their presence, since we do not see them trying to rid themselves of the grubs. Some Anthophorae which were free from these grubs and some others which were carrying five or six upon their bodies were placed separately in gla.s.s jars. When the first disturbance resulting from their captivity was appeased, I could see nothing peculiar about those occupied by the young Sitares. And, if all these arguments were not sufficient, I might add that a creature which has already been able to spend seven months without food and which in a few days' time will proceed to drink a highly-flavoured fluid would be guilty of a singular inconsistency if it were to start nibbling the dry fleece of a Bee. It therefore seems to me undeniable that the young Sitares settle on the Anthophora's body merely to make her carry them into the cells which she will soon be building.

But until then the future parasites must hold tight to the fleece of their hostess, despite her rapid evolutions among the flowers, despite her rubbing against the walls of the galleries when she enters to take shelter and, above all, despite the brushing which she must often give herself with her feet to dust herself and keep spick and span. Hence no doubt the need for that curious apparatus which no standing or moving upon ordinary surfaces could explain, as was said above, when we were wondering what the shifting, swaying, dangerous body might be on which the larva would have to establish itself later. This body is a hair of a Bee who makes a thousand rapid journeys, now diving into her narrow galleries, now forcing her way down the tight throat of a corolla, and who never rests except to brush herself with her feet and remove the specks of dust collected by the down which covers her.

We can now easily understand the use of the projecting crescent whose two horns, by closing together, are able to take hold of a hair more easily than the most delicate tweezers; we perceive the full value of the tenacious adhesive provided by the a.n.u.s to save the tiny creature, at the least sign of danger, from an imminent fall; we realize lastly the useful function that may be fulfilled by the elastic cirri of the flanks and legs, which are an absolute and most embarra.s.sing superfluity when walking upon a smooth surface, but which, in the present case, penetrate like so many probes into the thickness of the Anthophora's down and serve as it were to anchor the Sitaris-larva in position. The more we consider this arrangement, which seems modelled by a blind caprice so long as the grub drags itself laboriously over a smooth surface, the more do we marvel at the means, as effective as they are varied, which are lavished upon this fragile creature to help it to preserve its unstable equilibrium.

Before I describe what becomes of the Sitaris-grubs on leaving the body of the Anthophorae, I must not omit to mention one very remarkable peculiarity. All the Bees invaded by these grubs that have hitherto been observed have, without one exception, been male Anthophorae. Those whom I drew from their lurking-places were males; those whom I caught upon the flowers were males; and, in spite of the most active search, I failed to find a single female at liberty. The cause of this total absence of females is easy to understand.

If we remove a few clods from the area occupied by the nests, we see that, though all the males have already opened and abandoned their cells, the females, on the contrary, are still enclosed in theirs, but on the point of soon taking flight. This appearance of the males almost a month before the emergence of the females is not peculiar to the Anthophorae; I have observed it in many other Bees and particularly in the Three-horned Osmia (_O. tricornis_), who inhabits the same site as the Hairy-footed Anthophora (_A. pilipes_). The males of the Osmia make their appearance even before those of the Anthophora and at so early a season that the young Sitaris-larvae are perhaps not yet aroused by the instinctive impulse which urges them to activity. It is no doubt to their precocious awakening that the males of the Osmia owe their ability to traverse with impunity the corridors in which the young Sitaris-grubs are heaped together, without having the latter fasten to their fleece; at least, I cannot otherwise explain the absence of these larvae from the backs of the male Osmiae, since, when we place them artificially in the presence of these Bees, they fasten on them as readily as on the Anthophorae.

The emergence from the common site begun by the male Osmiae is continued by the male Anthophorae and ends with the almost simultaneous emergence of the female Osmiae and Anthophorae. I was easily able to verify this sequence by observing at my own place, in the early spring, the dates at which the cells, collected during the previous autumn, were broken.

At the moment of their emergence, the male Anthophorae, pa.s.sing through the galleries in which the Sitaris-larvae are waiting on the alert, must pick up a certain number of them; and those among them who, by entering empty corridors, escape the enemy on this first occasion will not evade him for long, for the rain, the chilly air and the darkness bring them back to their former homes, where they take shelter now in one gallery, now in another, during a great part of April. This constant traffic of the males in the entrance-lobbies of their houses and the prolonged stay which the bad weather often compels them to make provide the Sitares with the most favourable opportunity for slipping into the Bees' fur and taking up their position. Moreover, when this state of affairs has lasted a month or so, there can be only very few if any larvae left wandering about without having attained their end. At that period I was unable to find them anywhere save on the body of the male Anthophora.

It is therefore extremely probable that, on their emergence, which takes place as May draws near, the female Anthophorae do not pick up Sitaris-larvae in the corridors, or pick up only a number which will not compare with that carried by the males. In fact, the first females that I was able to observe in April, in the actual neighbourhood of the nests, were free from these larvae. Nevertheless it is upon the females that the Sitaris-larvae must finally establish themselves, for the males upon whom they now are cannot introduce them into the cells, since they take no part in the building or provisioning. There is therefore, at a given moment, a transfer of Sitaris-larvae from the male Anthophorae to the females; and this transfer is, beyond a doubt, effected during the union of the s.e.xes. The female finds in the male's embraces both life and death for her offspring; at the moment when she surrenders herself to the male for the preservation of her race, the vigilant parasites pa.s.s from the male to the female, with the extermination of that same race in view.

In support of these deductions, here is a fairly conclusive experiment, though it reproduces the natural circ.u.mstances but roughly. On a female taken in her cell and therefore free from Sitares, I place a male who is infested with them; and I keep the two s.e.xes in contact, suppressing their unruly movements as far as I am able. After fifteen or twenty minutes of this enforced proximity, the female is invaded by one or more of the larvae which at first were on the male. True, experiment does not always succeed under these imperfect conditions.

By watching at Avignon the few Anthophorae that I succeeded in discovering, I was able to detect the precise moment of their work; and on the following Thursday,[5] the 21st of May, I repaired in all haste to Carpentras, to witness, if possible, the entrance of the Sitares into the Bee's cells. I was not mistaken: the works were in full swing.

[Footnote 5: Thursday is the weekly holiday in French schools.--_Translator's Note_.]

In front of a high expanse of earth, a swarm stimulated by the sun, which floods it with light and heat, is dancing a crazy ballet. It is a hover of Anthophorae, a few feet thick and covering an area which matches the sort of house-front formed by the perpendicular soil. From the tumultuous heart of the cloud rises a monotonous, threatening murmur, while the bewildered eye strays through the inextricable evolutions of the eager throng. With the rapidity of a lightning-flash thousands of Anthophorae are incessantly flying off and scattering over the country-side in search of booty; thousands of others also are incessantly arriving, laden with honey or mortar, and keeping up the formidable proportions of the swarm.

I was at that time something of a novice as regards the nature of these insects:

"Woe," said I to myself, "woe to the reckless wight bold enough to enter the heart of this swarm and, above all, to lay a rash hand upon the dwellings under construction! Forthwith surrounded by the furious host, he would expiate his rash attempt, stabbed by a thousand stings!"

At this thought, rendered still more alarming by the recollection of certain misadventures of which I had been the victim when seeking to observe too closely the combs of the Hornet (_Vespa crabro_), I felt a shiver of apprehension pa.s.s through my body.

Yet, to obtain light upon the question which brings me hither, I must needs penetrate the fearsome swarm; I must stand for whole hours, perhaps all day, watching the works which I intend to upset; lens in hand, I must scrutinize, unmoved amid the whirl, the things that are happening in the cells. The use moreover of a mask, of gloves, of a covering of any kind is impracticable, for utter dexterity of the fingers and complete liberty of sight are essential to the investigations which I have to make. No matter: even though I leave this wasps'-nest with a face swollen beyond recognition, I must to-day obtain a decisive solution of the problem which has preoccupied me too long.

A few strokes of the net, aimed, beyond the limits of the swarm, at the Anthophorae on their way to the harvest or returning, soon informed me that the Sitaris-larvae are perched on the thorax, as I expected, occupying the same position as on the males. The circ.u.mstances therefore could not be more favourable. We will inspect the cells without further delay.

My preparations are made at once: I b.u.t.ton my clothes tightly, so as to afford the Bees the least possible opportunity, and I enter the heart of the swarm. A few blows of the mattock, which arouse a far from rea.s.suring crescendo in the humming of the Anthophorae, soon place me in possession of a lump of earth; and I beat a hasty retreat, greatly astonished to find myself still safe and sound and unpursued.

But the lump of earth which I have removed is from a part too near the surface; it contains nothing but Osmia-cells, which do not interest me for the moment. A second expedition is made, lasting longer than the first; and, though my retreat is effected without great precipitation, not an Anthophora has touched me with her sting, nor even shown herself disposed to fall upon the aggressor.

This success emboldens me. I remain permanently in front of the work in progress, continually removing lumps of earth filled with cells, spilling the liquid honey on the ground, eviscerating larvae and crushing the Bees busily occupied in their nests. All this devastation results merely in arousing a louder hum in the swarm and is not followed by any hostile demonstration. The Anthophorae whose cells are not hurt go about their labours as if nothing unusual were happening round about them; those whose dwellings are overturned try to repair them, or hover distractedly in front of the ruins; but none of them seems inclined to swoop down upon the author of the damage. At most, a few, more irritated than the rest, come at intervals and hover before my face, confronting me at a distance of a couple of inches, and then fly away, after a few moments of this curious inspection.

Despite the selection of a common site for their nests, which might suggest an attempt at communistic interests among the Anthophorae, these Bees, therefore, obey the egotistical law of each one for himself and do not know how to band themselves together to repel an enemy who threatens one and all. Taken singly, the Anthophora does not even know how to dash at the enemy who is ravaging her cells and drive him away with her stings; the pacific creature hastily leaves its dwelling when disturbed by undermining and escapes in a crippled state, sometimes even mortally wounded, without thinking of making use of its venomous sting, except when it is seized and handled. Many other Hymenoptera, honey-gatherers or hunters, are quite as spiritless; and I can a.s.sert to-day, after a long experience, that only the Social Hymenoptera, the Hive-bees, the Common Wasps and the b.u.mble-bees, know how to devise a common defence; and only they dare fall singly upon the aggressor, to wreak an individual vengeance.