alictus, there will be here a smooth and shiny
line, a narrow groove along which the sting slides up and down when the
insect is on the defensive. This slide for the unsheathed weapon denotes
some member of the Halictus tribe, without distinction of size or
colour. No elsewhere, in the sting-bearing order, is this original sort
of groove in use. It is the distinctive mark, the emblem of the family.

Three Halicti will appear before you in this biographical fragment. Two
of them are my neighbours, my familiars, who rarely fail to settle each
year in the best parts of the enclosure. They occupied the ground before
I did; and I should not dream of evicting them, persuaded as I am that
they will well repay my indulgence. Their proximity, which allows me to
visit them daily at my leisure, is a piece of good luck. Let us profit
by it.

At the head of my three subjects is the Zebra Halictus (H. zebrus,
WALCK.), which is beautifully belted around her long abdomen with
alternate black and pale-russet scarves. Her slender shape, her size,
which equals that of the Common Wasp, her simple and pretty dress,
combine to make her the chief representative of the genus here.

She establishes her galleries in firm soil, where there is no danger
of landslips which would interfere with the work at nesting-time. In my
garden, the well-levelled paths, made of a mixture of tiny pebbles
and red clayey earth, suits her to perfection. Every spring she takes
possession of it, never alone, but in gangs whose number varies greatly,
amounting sometimes to as many as a hundred. In this way she founds what
may be described as small townships, each clearly marked out and distant
from the other, in which the joint possession of the site in no way
entails joint work.

Each has her home, an inviolable manor which none but the owner has
the right to enter. A sound buffeting would soon call to order any
adventuress who dared to make her way into another's dwelling. No such
indiscretion is suffered among the Halicti. Let each keep to her own
place and to herself and perfect peace will reign in this new-formed
society, made up of neighbours and not of fellow-workers.

Operations begin in April, most unobtrusively, the only sign of the
underground works being the little mounds of fresh earth. There is no
animation in the building-yards. The labourers show themselves very
seldom, so busy are they at the bottom of their pits. At moments, here
and there, the