In our summer work we often found ourselves wishing that we could be in half a dozen places at once and could chase several wasps at the same time. Never did we feel these desires more keenly than on the twenty–ninth of July, when, after spending the best part of an hour in watching the hunting of an Ammophila, we were obliged to choose between following her to a possible conclusion, and giving our attention to a little jet–black wasp, Lyroda subita, which we now saw for the first time. This wasp was running around a bunch of clover in a nervous, agitated manner, as though she were oppressed by some great anxiety. The chance of discovering something entirely new decided us to relinquish our Ammophiline hopes, and we sat down at the feet of our new teacher. We could not see anything remarkable about that bunch of clover, but certainly the spot had some strong attraction for the uneasy little wasp. She ran off first in one direction and then in another. She circled about and made short flights now this way and now that, but always returned. At last she betrayed the secret of her interest by descending to the ground and picking up a small black cricket which had been lying close by all the time. She flew up into the air with it, but even now did not leave the neighborhood, continuing to fly about from place to place, alighting now and again on the bean plants. After this performance had lasted for five minutes she brought her burden back to the same spot that it had occupied before, laid it down, and without vouchsafing to us any explanation of her conduct, began to burrow into the soft earth. She went down head first, backing out with the dirt, which she carried with the front legs. While she was thus occupied we defended her booty against two hunting parties of ants which, at different times, fell upon it and would certainly have carried it off if we had not been at hand. It took the wasp twenty minutes to open the burrow, although, as we afterward learned, it had been excavated before. At the end of that time she turned around inside, came out head first, and dragged the cricket within. We at once opened the nest, but found it impossible to follow the tunnel on account of the crumbling of the earth. Indeed, we almost concluded that we were doomed to complete failure, for it was not until we had gone down between six and seven inches that we found, in a little pocket, our wasp in company with three crickets, upon one of which was a larva a day or two old. At the time we knew nothing of the habits of Bembex spinolæ, and we were much astonished to find a wasp which evidently fed her young from day to day. The contents of the nest were carefully conveyed to our wasp–nursery at the cottage. The cricket that we had seen taken in was dead, as was also the one upon which the larva was feeding. The third one was alive, as was shown by a rhythmic movement of the palp on the right side. By the next day, however, this one also was dead.