I should hesitate to regard this frequency as indicating a special predilection of the Pelopæus for this kind of game. In her hunting-trips the Wasp does not go far from her home; she visits the old walls near by, the hedges, the little gardens all around and captures whatever offers. Now in these conditions the Cross Spider happens, at the nesting-period, to be the commonest. Every reed-fenced garden-patch in front of the rough cottage beloved by the potter, every hawthorn-hedge surrounding a cabbage-plot shows me the Spider with the pontifical cross weaving her net or waiting for her prey in the centre of her web. If I need a Spider for my studies, I am certain of finding the Diadem Epeira within a few steps of my house. That much keener investigator, the Pelopæus, must easily effect this kind of capture; and this, it seems to me, is the reason why that particular morsel predominates in the provision-store. If the Epeira, the habitual foundation of the meal, happen to be lacking, any other Spider is regarded as adequate, even when she belongs to a very different group. We have here the wise eclecticism of the Crabro-wasps [38] and Bembeces, who welcome any member of the Fly clan, provided that the prey be not disproportionate to the huntress’ strength. We should be wrong, however, to erect this indifference into too absolute a principle: there is reason to believe that the Pelopæus recognizes different qualities of nourishment and flavour between one Spider and another. A more fastidious expert than Lalande, [39] with his legendary passion for plump, nutty Spiders, she must rate this species more highly than that; and there are some which she must absolutely despise. These include the House Spider (Tegenaria domestica), who weaves her cobwebs in the corners of our houses.