At a little after four o’clock she began to investigate, very carefully, the plants and grasses that immediately surrounded her hole, showing an especial interest in one bunch of clover that grew four inches away. Into this she finally vanished, and peering curiously among the greenery, we discovered her hanging to a leaf, which was sheltered by thick foliage on all sides. Here she remained motionless and probably fast asleep until sundown, when we left her for the night. When we went to the garden at eight o’clock on the following morning, subviolaceus was on hand, but scelestus was still sound asleep in her leafy bower. We thought it best to awaken her, for a large spider had spread its web just below, and if the wasp should drop upon it nothing could save her. We therefore aroused her gently, whereupon she crept slowly up the stem and, taking her stand on the highest point, surveyed the world. Then, after stretching herself sleepily, she made her toilet, cleaning off her wings and legs, and washing her face with her feet like a cat. When these duties were finished she walked slowly about for an hour, visiting her nest every now and then. Suddenly, at half past nine o’clock, her whole manner changed, and seeming very much excited she ran rapidly along, parallel with the fence, for fifteen or twenty feet, and then, rising on her wings, flew far away into the woods. She had evidently gone hunting at last, and we watched eagerly for her return. She was not successful at once, however, for at half past ten she came back without anything, stayed at the nest for a few minutes, and then flew to the woods again with the same excited manner as before. Perhaps she had already caught her spider at some far distant spot, and was getting her bearings preparatory to bringing it home; but it was half past one when she suddenly appeared, five or six inches from the nest, coming backward through the fence, and dragging a large Lycosid. This she laid down close by, and began to bite at the legs quite after the manner of the wasp we had seen the year before. Her movements were full of nervous excitement, in marked contrast to those of the previous day. Presently she went to look at her nest, and seemed to be struck with a thought that had already occurred to us—that it was decidedly too small to hold the spider. Back she went for another survey of her bulky victim, measured it with her eye, without touching it, drew her conclusions, and at once returned to the nest and began to make it larger. We have several times seen wasps enlarge their holes when a trial had demonstrated that the spider would not go in, but this seemed a remarkably intelligent use of the comparative faculty. Her method of work was peculiar. Standing in the tunnel with her head down and her abdomen curved under, she bit the earth loose with her mandibles and pushed it under her body and beyond the tip of the abdomen. When a little had accumulated she backed out, holding it in this way.