the testimony of the Anthidia, the cotton-manufacturers.
My district possesses five: A. Florentinum, LATR., A. diadema, LATR., A.
manicatum, LATR., A. cingulatum, LATR., A. scapulare, LATR. None of them
creates the refuge in which the cotton goods are manufactured. Like the
Osmiae and the Leaf-cutters, they are homeless vagrants, adopting,
each to her own taste, such shelter as the work of others affords. The
Scapular Anthidium is loyal to the dry bramble, deprived of its pith and
turned into a hollow tube by the industry of various mining Bees, among
which figure, in the front rank, the Ceratinae, dwarf rivals of the
Xylocopa, or Carpenter-bee, that mighty driller of rotten wood.
The spacious galleries of the Masked Anthophora suit the Florentine
Anthidium, the foremost member of the genus so far as size is concerned.
The Diadem Anthidium considers that she has done very well if she
inherits the vestibule of the Hairy-footed Anthophora, or even the
ordinary burrow of the Earth-worm. Failing anything better, she may
establish herself in the dilapidated dome of the Mason-bee of the
Pebbles. The Manicate Anthidium shares her tastes. I have surprised the
Girdled Anthidium cohabiting with a Bembex-wasp. The two occupants of
the cave dug in the sand, the owner and the stranger, were living in
peace, both intent upon their business. Her usual habitation is some
hole or other in the crevices of a ruined wall. To these refuges, the
work of others, we can add the stumps of reeds, which are as popular
with the various cotton-gatherers as with the Osmiae; and, after we have
mentioned a few most unexpected retreats, such as the sheath provided
by a hollow brick or the labyrinth furnished by the lock of a gate, we
shall have almost exhausted the list of domiciles.

Like the Osmiae and the Leaf-cutters, the Anthidium shows an urgent need
of a ready-made home. She never houses herself at her own expense. Can
we discover the reason? Let us first consult a few hard workers who are
artificers of their own dwellings. The Anthophora digs corridors and
cells in the road-side banks hardened by the sun; she does not erect,
she excavates; she does not build, she clears. Toiling away with her
mandibles, atom by atom, she manages to contrive the passages and
chambers necessary for her eggs; and a huge business it is. She has, in
addition, to polish and glaze the rough sides of her tunnels. What would
happen if, after obtaining a home by dint of l