Two or three days pass: the egg hatches and the small larva eats up its choice ration. Meanwhile, the mother remains near: one may see her licking the sugary exudations on the flower-heads of Eryngium campestre for nourishment, then settling with enjoyment on the burning sand, whence she doubtless surveys the exterior of her dwelling, or she sifts the sand at its entrance, then flies off and vanishes—perhaps to excavate other cells to be stored in a like manner. But however prolonged her absence, she does not forget the young larva so scantily provided for; maternal instinct teaches her the hour when the grub has finished its food and needs new sustenance. Then she comes back to the nest whose invisible entrance she knows right well how to find, and penetrates the hollow—this time laden with a larger prey. This deposited, she goes out again, and awaits outside the time for a second expedition. It soon comes, for the larva shows a devouring appetite. Again the mother arrives with fresh provender. During almost a fortnight, while the larva is growing, the meals follow each other thus, one by one, as it needs them, and so much the nearer together as the nursling grows stronger. Toward the end of the fortnight the mother requires all her activity to supply the glutton’s appetite as it crawls heavily amid the remains of its repasts—wings, feet, and horny rings of abdomens. Each moment she returns with a new capture or comes forth for the chase. In short, the Bembex brings up her family from hand to mouth without storing provisions, like the bird which brings a beakful of food to the little ones still in the nest. Among the numerous proofs of this method of upbringing—one very singular in a Hymenopteron which feeds its family on prey—I have already mentioned the presence of the egg in a cell where but one little fly is found as provender—always one—never more. Another proof is the following one, which does not require any special moment for its ascertainment.