The Sphex has just shown us with what infallible, transcendent art she acts, guided by the unconscious inspiration of instinct: she will now show how poor she is in resources, how limited in intelligence, and even illogical in cases somewhat out of her usual line. By a strange contradiction, characteristic of the instinctive faculties, with deep science is associated ignorance not less deep. Nothing is impossible to instinct, however great be the difficulty. In constructing her hexagonal cells with their floor of three lozenge-shaped pieces, the bee resolves, with absolute precision, the arduous problems of maximum and minimum, to solve which man would need a powerful, mathematical mind. Hymenoptera, whose larvæ live on prey, have methods in their murderous art hardly equalled by those of a man versed in the most delicate mysteries of anatomy and physiology. Nothing is difficult to instinct so long as the action moves in the unchanging groove allotted to the animal, but, again, nothing is easy to instinct if the action deviates from it. The very insect which amazes us and alarms us by its high intelligence will, a moment later, astonish us by its stupidity before some fact extremely simple, but strange to its usual habits. The Sphex will offer an example. Let us follow her dragging home an ephippiger. If fortune favour us, we may be present at a little scene which I will describe. On entering the shelter under a rock where the burrow is made, the Sphex finds, perched on a blade of grass, a carnivorous insect which, under a most sanctimonious aspect, hides the morals of a cannibal. The danger threatened by this bandit in ambush on her path must be known to the Sphex, for she leaves her game and runs bravely at the Mantis to administer some sharp blows and dislodge, or at all events, alarm and inspire it with respect. It does not move, but closes its deadly weapons—the two terrible saws of the arm and forearm. The Sphex returns to her prey, harnesses herself to the antennæ, and passes audaciously under the blade of grass where the Mantis sits. From the direction of her head one can see that she is on her guard, and is holding the enemy motionless under her threatening eyes. Such courage is duly rewarded; the prey is stored without further misadventure.