Sometimes the journey is accomplished at one trial; more frequently she leaves her load and hurries home. Perhaps it occurs to her that the entrance door is not wide enough for this ample morsel, perhaps she bethinks her of some defect of detail that might interfere with provisioning the cell. Yes, she retouches her work, enlarges the doorway, levels the threshold, consolidates the arch, all with a few sweeps of the tarsi. Then she returns to the ephippiger, lying on its back a few paces distant, and drags it on again. But a new idea seems to flash across her lively mind. She had visited the gateway but had not looked within; who knows if all be well there? She hastens back, leaving the ephippiger midway. The interior is visited, and apparently some touches as with a trowel are given by the tarsi, to lend a last finish to the walls. Without lingering over these final touches the Sphex returns to her prey, and harnesses herself to the antennæ. Forward! Will the journey be accomplished this time? I would not answer for it. I have known a Sphex, perhaps more suspicious than others, or more forgetful of the minor details of architecture, set her omissions right or allay her suspicions by abandoning her prey five or six times successively, and hurrying to the burrow, which each time was touched up a little or simply entered. It is true that others go straight home, without even stopping to rest. I must add that when the Sphex comes home to perfect her dwelling, she does not fail to give an occasional, distant glance at the ephippiger left on the way, to make sure that nothing touches it. This prudence recalls that of the Scarabæus sacer issuing from the hole which it is digging to feel its dear ball, and bring it a little nearer. The deduction to be drawn from the facts just stated is evident. Since every Sphex occitanica we surprise while it burrows—be it at the very beginning, at the first stroke of her tarsi in the dust, or later, the dwelling being ready—makes a short expedition on foot or on the wing, and always finds a victim already stabbed, already paralysed, one may conclude with certainty that she first makes her capture, and later burrows, so that the place of capture decides that of the domicile. This reversal of method which prepares the food before the larder, while previously we saw the larder precede the food, I attribute to the weight of the prey being too great to carry on the wing. It is not that S. occitanica is ill-organised for flight; on the contrary, she can soar splendidly, but her prey would overwhelm her if she depended only on her wings. She needs the support of the ground and must drag her prey, and displays wonderful vigour in doing this. Loaded with prey she always goes on foot, or takes very short flights when these spare time and toil. Let me quote an instance taken from my latest observations on this curious Hymenopteron.