placed together and fastened. A little putty does away with the joint
and prevents the least ray of light from penetrating. Lastly, the
apparatus is hung up perpendicularly, with the cocoons' heads up. We
have now only to wait. None of the Osmiae can get out in the usual
manner, because each of them is confined between two partitions
coated with sealing-wax. There is but one resource left to them if
they would emerge into the light of day, that is, for each of them to
open a side-window, provided always that they possess the instinct
and the power to do so.

In July, the result is as follows: of twenty Osmiae thus immured, six
succeed in boring a round hole through the wall and making their way
out; the others perish in their cells, without managing to release
themselves. But, when I open the cylinder, when I separate the two
wooden troughs, I realize that all have attempted to escape through
the side, for the wall of each cell bears traces of gnawing
concentrated upon one spot. All, therefore, have acted in the same
way as their more fortunate sisters; they did not succeed, because
their strength failed them. Lastly, in my glass tubes, part-lined
with a thick piece of packing-paper, I often see attempts at making a
window in the side of the cell: the paper is pierced right through
with a round hole.

This then is yet another result which I am glad to record in the
history of the bramble-dwellers. When the Osmia, the Anthidium and
probably others are unable to emerge through the customary outlet,
they take an heroic decision and perforate the side of the shaft. It
is the last resource, resolved upon after other methods have been
tried in vain. The brave, the strong succeed; the weak perish in the
attempt.