I have no direct means of knowing as to the social discrimination of the host as shown in the entertainment, for that invitations were issued the subsequent facts would show. But I have good reasons for believing, from the course of events, that the gathering included a number of questionable personages that were not counted upon.

Here, for instance, was an overwhelming contingent of the whole tough gang of wasps and hornets—brown wasps from under the eaves and fences; black hornets from the big paper nests; yellow-jackets from where you please; deep steel-blue wire-waisted wasps from the mud cells in the garret, to say nothing of an occasional longer-waisted digger-wasp, and a host of their allied lesser associates scattered around generously among the assemblage.

Every now and then a big darning-needle took a shimmering circuit about the bush, and doubtless knew what he was about; as did also what at first glimpse appeared to be a big bumblebee, which seemed to find attraction in the neighborhood, although he seldom alighted upon the leaves, preferring to sit upon a neighboring weed and watch his opportunities.

I have thus described a few of the more prominent guests or personages present at the feast. But I have reported little of their "goings on." Doubtless there were appropriate toasts and responses, or what in bug etiquette answered to this seemingly indispensable human fad, while as to that other festive social essential of after-dinner speeches, coupled in this case with most vigorous discussion, I am certain the air was blue with something of this sort, if the eloquent pantomime bore any significance. Here, for instance, is one isolated, but frequent, episode. A peaceable little group of plain bluebottle-flies, with but a single thought, are all sipping at the same drop in contentment. A brief respite, for now the tips of a pair of inquisitive antennæ appear from the under edge of the leaf upon which they are sipping, and gingerly explore the upper surface. They are quickly followed by the covetous almond-eyed gaze of a brown wasp, that now steals cautiously around to the upper surface, and appears wholly engrossed in licking the leaf. Nearer and nearer he sidles up to the group of flies, and now with deliberate purpose and open jaws makes a dash among them. But they are too quick for him, and are away in a glittering blue tangle, which finally concentrates itself upon a neighboring leaf, where the eager tippling is immediately resumed. The wasp now holds the fort, and seems in no mood to be trifled with. With head and fore feet upraised and open jaws he seems "spoiling for a fight," and ready to make war upon the first comer. But no, he is evidently expecting a friend that, I now observe, approaches him determinedly down the stem of the leaf. The new-comer, a brown wasp like himself, is now at close range, and in an instant more, without any visible courteous preliminaries, the two set upon each other with a common enthusiasm, and with jaws working and stings fencing the interlocked combatants fall to the ground for a finish. I presume the affair was carried to the fourteenth round without any undue interference.

Another and another of these friendly meetings between them and other wasps took place in the half-hour in which I watched the sport. There were lulls in hostilities, during which an atmosphere of perfect peace and harmony seemed to reign around my bramble-bush. The flies were motionless in their ecstasy, and the hornet element seemed by common consent to keep temporarily shady, and even the butterflies seemed to forget that they had wings. But not for long, for now with a shimmering glitter our darning-needle invades the scene, and retires to a convenient perch with a ruby-eyed fly in his teeth, while a swarm of very startled butterflies tells conspicuously of the demoralization which he has left in his path. Among the butterfly representatives I at length observed one individual which at first had escaped me, an exclusive white cabbage-butterfly which sipped quietly at his leaf in the shade, and seemed to take little interest in the disreputable actions of his associates. Nothing could move him or entice him away from his convivial employment. But, alas! his folly soon found him out, for, on happening to look again, I observed he had found a new acquaintance—a hornet that had evidently been long desirous of meeting him. One by one I saw my butterfly's dismembered wings fall to the grassy jungle below, while a big black wasp proceeded to enjoy the collected sweets which he had doubtless observed were being so carefully stored away there in the shady retreat.

The Picnic

And now my pretty black butterfly—no, it proved to be the little day-flying grape-vine-moth, the eight-spotted black Alypia—appeared from some unseen source, and spun his crapy white-streaked halo among the leaves, at length settling among a little company of flies. Softly behind him creeps a brown wasp (Polistes), with his mouth watering, while from the opposite quarter a steel-blue mud-wasp approaches, with apparently similar designs. Neither invader sees the other. Simultaneously, as though answering to a signal, the two make a dash at the moth; but he is too quick for them. In a twinkling he is off in his pretty halo again, while the two disappointed contestants have clinched, and with stings and jaws vigorously plying fall to the jungle below, and seek satisfaction in mortal combat.

Here is a pretty little yellow and black banded flower-fly, which is having a quiet little picnic all by himself on a bed of yarrow bloom close by. But a big black paper-hornet has suddenly seen an attraction hither also, and is soon creeping stealthily among the blossoms with a wild and hungry look. But the hornets seemed to waste their time on the flies. Seemingly confident in their less complicated wing machinery, the two-winged fly rarely sought escape until within very close range of his enemy, and his resources never seemed to disappoint him at the critical moment.