they are to tell me the result of their day's work. On receiving
their favorable report, I will go with them, next day, to continue
the observations. They shall be paid for their trouble, of course.
These latter day Corydons have not the manners of antiquity: they
reck little of the seven holed flute cemented with wax, or of the
beechen bowl, preferring the coppers that will take them to the
village inn on Sunday. A reward in ready money is promised for
each nest that fulfils the desired conditions; and the bargain is
enthusiastically accepted.

There are three of them; and I make a fourth. Shall we manage it,
among us all? I thought so. By the end of August, however, my
last illusions were dispelled. Not one of us had succeeded in
seeing the big black Fly perching on the dome of the mason bee.

Our failure, it seems to me, can be explained thus: outside the
spacious front of the Anthophora's settlement, the Anthrax is in
permanent residence. She visits, on the wing, every nook and
corner, without moving away from the native cliff, because it would
be useless to go farther. There is board and lodging here,
indefinitely, for all her family. When some spot is deemed
favorable, she hovers round inspecting it, then comes up suddenly
and strikes it with the tip of her abdomen. The thing is done, the
egg is laid. So I picture it, at least. Within a radius of a few
yards and in a flight broken by short intervals of rest in the sun,
she carries on her search of likely places for the laying and
dissemination of her eggs. The insect's assiduous attendance upon
the same slope is caused by the inexhaustible wealth of the
locality exploited.