We kept these wasps under close observation, often watching the nest from the moment it was opened in the morning until it was closed at night. On the twelfth of August, a week from the time that we first saw them, one of the females felt the responsibilities of life settling down upon her. At half after four in the afternoon she began to enlarge the nest, and worked with a great deal of energy for forty minutes. After a long disappearance within the hole she would come up backwards, kicking behind her a quantity of earth which was not only taken outside, but was then spread out far and wide. She worked with the front pair of legs, which were curved inward, after the manner of Bembex; and when a pebble or some such object came in her way she either dragged it to a distance with her mandibles or pushed it before her with her head in a way quite peculiar to herself. In distributing the earth that was taken out, she went five and one half inches from the nest—a distance which is much greater than is common among wasps, but which accords well with the habits of punctatus, since she continues the work of excavation from day to day. [Illustration: PHILANTHUS PUNCTATUS] On August thirteenth, at half after eight in the morning, we found that a second female, perhaps inspired by the example of her sister, had made a new nest within two inches of the first one, and had flown away, leaving it open. Presently the other wasps began to appear, one after the other, in their doorway. Two of the males flew away, and one of the females, doubtless the one that we had seen digging the night before, began to work afresh at making the nest larger. Probably she was excavating a pocket for the reception of an egg, and the amount of labor required was enormously increased by the great length (about twenty–two inches) of the main gallery by which the displaced earth must be carried out. She worked for an hour, and in spreading the dirt about, inadvertently filled in the opening of the second nest. At length she flew away.