This reversal of procedure, which causes the food to be prepared before the larder, whereas hitherto we have seen the larder come before the food, I attribute to the weight of the Sphex’ prey, a prey which it is not possible to carry far through the air. It is not that the Languedocian Sphex is ill-built for flight: on the contrary, she can soar magnificently; but the prey which she hunts would weigh her down if she had no other support than her wings. She needs the support of the ground for her hauling-work, in which she displays wonderful strength. When laden with her prey, she always goes afoot, or takes but very short flights, even under conditions when flight would save her time and trouble. I will quote an instance taken from my latest observations on this curious Wasp. A Sphex appears unexpectedly, coming I know not whence. She is on foot, dragging her Ephippiger, a capture which apparently she has made that moment in the neighbourhood. In the circumstances it behoves her to dig herself a burrow. The site is as bad as bad can be. It is a well-beaten path, hard as stone. The Sphex, who has no time to make laborious excavations, because the already captured prize must be stored as quickly as possible, the Sphex wants soft ground, wherein the larva’s chamber can be contrived in one short spell of work. I have described her favourite soil, namely, the dust of years which has accumulated at the bottom of some hole in a wall or of some little shelter under the rocks. Well, the Sphex whom I am now observing stops at the foot of a house with a newly-whitewashed front some twenty to twenty-five feet high. Her instinct tells her that up there, under the red tiles of the roof, she will find nooks rich in old dust. She leaves her prey at the foot of the house and flies up to the roof. For some time I see her looking here, there, and everywhere. After finding a proper site, she begins to work under the curve of a pantile. In ten minutes, or fifteen at most, the home is ready. The insect now flies down again. The Ephippiger is promptly found. She has to be taken up. Will this be done on the wing, as circumstances seem to demand? Not at all. The Sphex adopts the toilsome method of scaling a perpendicular wall, with a surface smoothed by the mason’s trowel and measuring twenty to twenty-five feet in height. Seeing her take this road, dragging the game between her legs, I at first think the feat impossible; but I am soon reassured as to the outcome of the bold attempt. Getting a foothold on the little roughnesses in the mortar, the plucky insect, despite the hindrance of her heavy load, walks up this vertical plane with the same assured gait and the same speed as on level ground. The top is reached without the least accident; and the prey is laid temporarily on the edge of the roof, upon the rounded back of a tile. While the digger gives a finishing touch to the burrow, the badly-balanced prey slips and drops to the foot of the wall. The thing