We had another much less worthy example, one, indeed, that went to the extreme of carelessness. We first saw her in the morning carrying her caterpillar across the field. She frequently dropped it and ran or flew to a little distance, and when she took it again the venter was sometimes up and sometimes down, whichever way it happened. Her nest was a very poor affair just beneath the surface, and after the caterpillar was carried in, it was visible from above. She filled the hole with loose particles of earth and then scratched the surface of the ground a little in a perfunctory sort of way, as different as possible from the painstaking labor that we had been accustomed to in her sisters. That afternoon we opened the nest and removed its contents. The next morning we saw this wasp bringing home her second caterpillar. She was much puzzled and disturbed at the destruction of her nest, and hunted for it for an hour and a half, leaving the caterpillar on the ground near by. We could not help feeling sorry that we had interrupted the contented routine of her life. She finally gave up in despair, and we took possession of the deserted caterpillar. Just here must be told the story of one little wasp whose individuality stands out in our minds more distinctly than that of any of the others. We remember her as the most fastidious and perfect little worker of the whole season, so nice was she in her adaptation of means to ends, so busy and contented in her labor of love, and so pretty in her pride over the completed work. In filling up her nest she put her head down into it and bit away the loose earth from the sides, letting it fall to the bottom of the burrow, and then, after a quantity had accumulated, jammed it down with her head. Earth was then brought from the outside and pressed in, and then more was bitten from the sides. When, at last, the filling was level with the ground, she brought a quantity of fine grains of dirt to the spot, and picking up a small pebble in her mandibles, used it as a hammer in pounding them down with rapid strokes, thus making this spot as hard and firm as the surrounding surface. Before we could recover from our astonishment at this performance she had dropped her stone and was bringing more earth. We then threw ourselves down on the ground that not a motion might be lost, and in a moment we saw her pick up the pebble and again pound the earth into place with it, hammering now here and now there until all was level. Once more the whole process was repeated, and then the little creature, all unconscious of the commotion that she had aroused in our minds,—unconscious, indeed, of our very existence and intent only on doing her work and doing it well,—gave one final, comprehensive glance around and flew away. [Illustration: AMMOPHILA URNARIA USING STONE TO POUND DOWN EARTH OVER NEST]