"That was strange, indeed. Did you find out any thing about them?"
"We asked a man who was near what they did it for, and he said that they carried the stones to prevent the wind, which is blowing pretty fresh, from tossing them about too much."
"That is a very silly story, boys, though it is a very old one: for I have seen them carrying what you call stones when it was quite calm, and there was no wind to blow them away. The man was very ignorant, or he would have told you another story, which would have been both strange and true."
"Will you have the goodness, Uncle Philip, to tell us what it meant?"
"Very willingly, boys. What you saw I presume were bees. You remember that I told you there were several kinds of bees; and this one is called the mason-bee. This kind builds his nest of mortar, and was therefore called the mason-bee by Mr. Reaumur first, I believe."
"Where does it get the mortar, Uncle Philip?"
"It makes it, boys. This kind of bee may be seen flying about, picking up sand, grain by grain, putting it into a heap, gluing them together with a sort of gum out of her own mouth, and building with them a foundation for her house. This little workman commonly builds against the side of a wall between two bricks where the mortar has fallen out; and if you should see one of the nests, it appears exactly like a lump of dry mud which has been thrown wet upon the wall out of a cart-rut: but when you examine it closely, you may see a great many small stones in it, more than is common in mud: a hundred people, though, might pass by it, and never think it was any thing more than a lump of dirt, which had been thrown upon the wall when it was wet, and had afterward dried there. Here is a picture of one of these nests.
