WILD BEE.
There is a sort of wild bee frequenting the garden-campion for the sake of its tomentum, which probably it turns to some purpose in the business of nidification. It is very pleasant to see with what address it strips off the pubes, running from the top to the bottom of a branch, and shaving it bare with all the dexterity of a hoop-shaver. When it has got a vast bundle, almost as large as itself, it flies away, holding it secure between its chin and its fore legs.
There is a remarkable hill on the downs near Lewes in Sussex, known by the name of Mount Carburn, which overlooks that town, and affords a most engaging prospect of all the country round, besides several views of the sea. On the very summit of this exalted promontory, and amidst the trenches of its Danish camp, there haunts a species of wild bee, making its nest in the chalky soil. When people approach the place, these insects begin to be alarmed, and, with a sharp and hostile sound, dash and strike round the heads and faces of intruders. I have often been interrupted myself while contemplating the grandeur of the scenery around me, and have thought myself in danger of being stung.—White.
WASPS.
Wasps abound in woody wild districts far from neighbourhoods; they feed on flowers, and catch flies and caterpillars to carry to their young. Wasps make their nests with the raspings of sound timber; hornets, with what they gnaw from decayed: these particles of wood are kneaded up with a mixture of saliva from their bodies and moulded into combs.
When there is no fruit in the gardens, wasps eat flies, and suck the honey from flowers, from ivy blossoms and umbellated plants; they carry off also flesh from butchers' shambles.—White.
In the year 1775, wasps abounded so prodigiously in this neighbourhood, that, in the month of August, no less than seven or
