ing precedence of all her
sisters in the whole series of her actions, she was the first to burst
her silken bag and to destroy the ceiling that closes her room: at
least, that is what the logic of the situation takes for granted. In
her anxiety to get out, how will she set about her release? The way
is blocked by the nearest cocoons, as yet intact. To clear herself a
passage through the string of those cocoons would mean to exterminate
the remainder of the brood; the deliverance of one would mean the
destruction of all the rest. Insects are notoriously obstinate in their
actions and unscrupulous in their methods. If the Bee at the bottom of
the shaft wants to leave her lodging, will she spare those who bar her
road?

The difficulty is great, obviously; it seems insuperable. Thereupon we
become suspicious: we begin to wonder if the emergence from the cocoon,
that is to say, the hatching, really takes place in the order of
primogeniture. Might it not be--by a very singular exception, it
is true, but one which is necessary in such circumstances--that the
youngest of the Osmiae bursts her cocoon first and the oldest last; in
short, that the hatching proceeds from one chamber to the next in the
inverse direction to that which the age of the occupants would lead us
to presume? In that case, the whole difficulty would be removed: each
Osmia, as she rent her silken prison, would find a clear road in front
of her, the Osmiae nearer the outlet having gone out before her. But is
this really how things happen? Our theories very often do not agree with
the insect's practice; even where our reasoning seems most logical,
we should be more prudent to see what happens before venturing on any
positive statements. Leon Dufour was not so prudent when he, the first
in the field, took this little problem in hand. He describes to us the
habits of an Odynerus (Odynerus rubicola, DUF.) who piles up clay cells
in the shaft of a dry bramble-stalk; and, full of enthusiasm for his
industrious Wasp, he goes on to say:

'Picture a string of eight cement shells, placed end to end and closely
wedged inside a wooden sheath. The lowest was undeniably made first and
consequently contains the first-laid egg, which, according to rules,
should give birth to the first winged insect. How do you imagine
that the larva in that first shell was bidden to waive its right of
primogeniture and only to complete its metamorphosis after all its
juniors? What are the c