In this way are formed not real societies, for there are no concerted efforts towards a common object, but at least assemblies where the sight of her kinswomen and her neighbours doubtless puts heart into the labour of the individual. We can observe, in fact, between these little tribes, springing from the same stock, and the burrowers who do their work alone, a difference in activity which reminds us of the emulation prevailing in a crowded yard and the indifference of labourers who have to work in solitude. Action is contagious in animals as in men; it is fired by its own example. To sum up: when of a moderate weight for its captor, the prey can be conveyed flying, to a great distance. The Wasp can then choose any site that she pleases for her burrow. She adopts by preference the spot where she was born and uses each passage as a common corridor giving access to several cells. The result of this meeting at a common birthplace is the formation of groups, like turning to like, which is a source of friendly rivalry. This first step towards social life comes from facilities for travelling. Do not things happen in the same way with man, if I may be permitted the comparison? When he has nothing but trackless paths, man builds a solitary hut; when supplied with good roads, he and his fellows collect in populous cities; when served by railways which, so to speak, annihilate distance, they assemble in those immense human hives called London or Paris. The situation of the Languedocian Sphex is just the reverse. Her prey is a heavy Ephippiger, a single dish representing by itself the sum total of provisions which the other freebooters amass on numerous journeys, insect by insect. What the Cerceres and the other plunderers strong on the wing accomplish by dividing the labour she does in a single journey. The weight of the prey makes any distant flight impossible; it has to be brought home slowly and laboriously, for it is a troublesome business to cart things along the ground. This alone makes the site of the burrow dependent on the accidents of the chase: the prey comes first and the dwelling next. So there is no assembling at a common meeting-place, no association of kindred spirits, no tribes stimulating one another in their work by mutual example, but isolation in the particular spot where the chances of the day have taken the Sphex, solitary labour, carried on without animation though with unfailing diligence. First of all, the prey is sought for, attacked, reduced to helplessness. Not until after that does the digger trouble about the burrow. A favourable place is chosen, as near as possible to the spot where the victim lies, so as to cut short the tedious work of transport; and the chamber of the future larva is rapidly hollowed out and at once receives the egg and the victuals. There you have an example of the inverted method of the Languedocian Sphex, a method, as all my observations go to prove, diametrically opposite to that of the