bee of the Sheds, as long as there are vacant galleries, does
very nearly the same: she takes shelter in the galleries, but with her
head at the entrance. Once those old habitations are in use, however,
and the building of new cells begun, she selects another retreat. In the
harmas (The piece of enclosed waste ground on which the author studies
his insects in their natural state. Cf. "The Life of the Fly": chapter
1.--Translator's Note.), as I have said elsewhere, are stone
heaps, intended for building the surrounding wall. This is where
my Chalicodomae pass the night. Piled up promiscuously, both sexes
together, they sleep in numerous companies, in crevices between two
stones laid closely one on top of the other. Some of these companies
number as many as a couple of hundred. The most common dormitory is a
narrow groove. Here they all huddle, as far forward as possible, with
their backs in the groove. I see some lying flat on their backs, like
people asleep. Should bad weather come on, should the sky cloud over,
should the north-wind whistle, they do not stir out.

With all these things to take into consideration, I cannot expect my
dot on the Bee's thorax to last any length of time. By day, the constant
brushing and the rubbing against the partitions of the galleries
soon wipe it off; at night, things are worse still, in the narrow
sleeping-room where the Mason-bees take refuge by the hundred. After a
night spent in the crevice between two stones, it is not advisable to
trust to the mark made yesterday. Therefore, the counting of the number
of Bees that return to the nest must be taken in hand at once; tomorrow
would be too late. And so, as it would be impossible for me to recognize
those of my subjects whose dots had disappeared during the night, I will
take into account only the Bees that return on the same day.

The question of the rotary machine remains. Darwin advised me to use a
circular box with an axle and a handle. I have nothing of the kind
in the house. It will be simpler and quite as effective to employ the
method of the countryman who tries to lose his Cat by swinging him in a
bag. My insects, each one placed by itself in a paper cornet (A cornet
is simply the old 'sugar-bag,' the funnel-shaped paper bag so common
on the continent and still used occasionally by small grocers and
tobacconists in England.--Translator's Note.) or screw, shall be placed
in a tin box; the screws of paper shall be wedged in so a