well acquainted with the new localities of the ant-hill, and relieved them from their embarrassment, by taking them up gently in their mandibles, and conducting them to the galleries already pierced. "An Amazon was frequently seen to approach a negro, and play upon its head with its antennæ, when the latter immediately seized the former in its pincers, and deposited it at one of the entrances; the amazon ant then unrolled itself, caressed once more its kind friend, and passed into the interior of the nest; now and then the negro lost its way too, and wandered about carrying the amazon.

"I observed one," continues Huber, " after ineffectual windings, take the precaution of laying its burden on the ground: the amazon remained on the same spot until the negro returned to its assistance, which, having well ascertained and examined one of the entrances, resumed its load, and bore it into the interior."-pp. 126, 127.

We have alluded, also, to those ants which lead a sort of pastoral life, having their own flocks and herds. The reader who has not already examined the subject, will be astonished and delighted with the following account of those extraordinary insects :

"The wonders of the ant-tribe are far from being exhausted; we have seen them subjugating their own species and reducing them to the condition of domestic slaves. But a more singular trait in their manners remains to be stated. They keep and feed certain other insects, from which they extract a sweet and nutritious liquid, in the same manner as we obtain milk from cows. There are two species of insects from which the ant-tribe abstract this juice the aphides, or plant-lice, and the gall-insects. Linnæus, and after him other naturalists, have called these insects the milch cattle of the ants; and the term is not inapplicable. In the proper season, any person who may choose to be at the pains of watching their proceedings, may see, as Linnæus says, the ants ascending trees that they may milk their cows, the aphides. The substance which is here called milk is a saccharine fluid, which these insects secrete; it is scarcely inferior to honey in sweetness, and issues in limpid drops from the body of the insect, by two little tubes placed one on each side just above the abdomen. The aphides insert their suckers into the tender bark of a tree, and employ themselves without intermission in absorbing its sap; which, having passed through the digestive system of the insect, is discharged by the organs just described. When no ants happen to be at hand to receive this treasure, the insects eject it to a distance by a jerking motion, which at regular intervals they give their bodies. When the ants, however, are in attendance, they carefully watch the emission of this precious fluid, and immediately suck it down. The ants not only consume this fluid when voluntarily ejected by the aphides, but, what is still more surprising, they know how to make them yield it at pleasure; or, in other terms, to milk them. On this occasion the antennæ of the ants discharge the same functions as the fingers of a milk maid: with these organs, moved very rapidly, they pat the abdomen of an aphis first on one side and then on the other: a little drop of the much coveted juice immediately issues forth, which the ant eagerly conveys to its mouth. The milk of one aphis having been thus exhausted, the ant proceeds to treat others in the same manner, until at length it is satiated, when it returns to its nest.

'A still more singular fact, connected with this branch of the natural

economy of these insects, remains to be stated. These cows are not always considered the common property of a whole tribe; on the contrary, some of them are appropriated to the exclusive use of the inhabitants of a particular hill or nest; and to keep these cows to themselves, they exert all their skill and industry. Sometimes the aphides inhabiting the branches of a particular tree, or the stalks of a particular plant, are thus appropriated; and if any vagrant foreigners attempt to share this treasure with its true owners, the latter, exhibiting every symptom of uneasiness and anger, employ all their efforts to drive them away.

Some species of ants go in search of these aphides on the vegetables where they feed; but there are others, as the yellow ant, which collect a large herd of a kind of aphis, which derives its nutriment from the roots of grass and other plants. These milch kine they remove from their native plants and domesticate in their habitations, affording, as Huber justly observes, an example of almost human industry and sagacity. On turning up the nest of the yellow ant, this naturalist one day saw a variety of aphides either wandering about in the different chambers, or attached to the roots of plants which penetrated into the interior. The ants appeared to be extremely jealous of their stock of cattle; they followed them about, and caressed them, whenever they wished for the honied juice, which the aphis never refused to yield. On the slightest appearance of danger, they took them up in their mouths, and gently removed them to a more sheltered and more secure spot. They dispute with other ants for them, and in short, watch them as keenly as any pastoral people would guard the herds which form their wealth. Other species which do not gather the aphides together in their own nest, still seem to look on them as private property; they set sentinels to protect their places of resort and drive away other ants; and, what is still more extraordinary, they inclose them as a farmer does his sheep, to preserve them not only from rival ants, but also from the natural enemies of the aphis.'-pp. 131-133.

Until Gould, in 1747, investigated the economy of ants, it was generally believed that they fed upon corn, and wonderful stories were related and believed of the foresight with which the tiny husbandman prepared and stored his granary against the approach of winter. It is almost a pity to destroy these pretty tales, by alluding to the fact, that in winter the ants eat no food at all, and that at no season do ants of any species eat grain. If ever they convey a barley-corn to their nests, it is destined only for the purpose of adding to the materials of their buildings. Some excavate their dwellings, some construct them on the surface of the ground, and often raise them to a considerable height, while others form their abodes in trees. The first are called mining, the second mason, and the third carpenter ants :

From the result of their labours, it might be inferred that they were actuated by a common mechanical instinct, yet this is by no means the case: no two apartments are alike in the same nest, and no two nests have exactly the same arrangements. Each ant seems capable of conceiving a particular plan, which is in some manner made intelligible to the rest, and practically executed. If pieces of straw be placed conveniently for its purpose, an ant, after careful examination, proceeds to make use of this

appropriate supply of material. In another case it would have to drag bits of stubble, then arrange them, and then build. The operations of these insects vary very much from the beautiful and geometrically precise labour of bees. Indeed, they seem to act so completely according to the exigencies of each case, that the moving power which impels and guides their operations approaches so closely to human reason, that to establish a distinction appears extremely difficult.'-p. 136.

The Termites, or white, or wood ants, of whose habits and instincts Smeathman has given by far the best account, are the plague of both the Indies. Their favourite food is wood, and they attack it in such myriads, that nothing escapes their ravages. Any other food is, however, not amiss to them; paper, cloth, vegetables, they devour with amazing rapidity.

The ants of which we have hitherto spoken, act together in communities; and it could hardly be thought that the description of their economy could be exceeded in interest. We shall, how-r ever, now exhibit the ant-lion to the reader, and if its astonishing history do not induce him to study for himself the whole volume of nature, he must be the very slave of indolence. The ant-lion, as we have already intimated, in his first state, resembles a common wood-louse. He is an inhabitant of the south of Europe, who can live only upon the juice of other insects, particularly ants, not one of which he could ever catch by pursuit, for he can only walk backward, and that slowly. What does this poor devil do for his dinner? He procures it by stratagem, like a common thief; he forms a conical pit-fall, at the bottom of which he lies concealed, and waits with surprising patience until an unlucky victim tumbles into his den. The proceedings of this insect are so singular that' we shall not abridge the account of them, which we find very well executed in Mr. Murray's volume :—

For the purpose of excavating this trap, it seeks a spot of loose and dry sand, under the shelter of an old wall, or at the foot of a tree. Two circumstances incline it to select a spot of this description; in such a soil its snare is constructed with the least possible trouble; and the prey most agreeable to its appetite particularly abounds in such places. Having fixed upon a spot proper for its purpose, it traces in the sand a circular furrow, which is to determine the extent of its future abode. The outline of the hollow which it intends to excavate, being drawn, it proceeds with its task. Placing itself on the inside of the circular furrow previously traced, it thrusts the hind part of its body, like a ploughshare, under the sand; and using one of its fore-legs as a shovel, it deposits a load of sand upon its head, which is flat and square: it then gives its head a jerk, sufficiently strong to toss this load to a distance of several inches beyond the outward circle. All this is executed with a wonderful degree of celerity and address. Always going backwards, the same process is repeated, until it reaches that part of the circle where it commenced its operations. Another furrow is then excavated inside of the first circle; this is succeeded by others, until at last the insect arrives at the centre of its intended hollow. One peculiarity deserves to be pointed out; the insect neither uses

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its outward leg, nor disturbs the sand lying on the outside of the circle; using the inner leg only, it loads its head with sand taken from the inside of the circle. It seems to be well aware, that the sand within the circle is all that requires to be removed, and also that this can be effected only by using the inside leg. If both the legs were used at the same time, the excavation would assume the shape of a cylinder, and not that of a cone; which is the only form that can suit the purpose of the insect. It must, however, be obvious, that if, throughout the whole of this laborious process, one leg continued to be exclusively used, the limb would get tired. To obviate this inconvenience, nature has taught the little pioneer to adopt an apt expedient: one furrow having been completely excavated, another is traced in an opposite direction; this brings into play the leg which had been previously at rest. It frequently happens that small stones impede the progress of its labours; these are all, one by one, placed upon its head, and jerked beyond the outer margin of the excavation. But when arrived near the bottom, it sometimes encounters a pebble too large to be removed even by this process, its head not having sufficient breadth and strength to bear so bulky and so heavy a substance; while the hole is too deep to admit of its being projected over the margin. In this dilemma the little engineer is not destitute of resources. A new mode of proceeding is adopted, suitable to the difficulty which the insect has to overcome. By a series of the most ingenious movements, it contrives to lift the pebble upon its back, where it is kept in a steady position by means of the segments which compose that part. Having thus secured the pebble from the chance of falling, the indefatigable labourer resolutely walks, tail forwards, up the slope of the excavation, and deposits its burthen on the outside. When the stone to be removed happens to be round, the insect's task becomes more arduous and difficult: in this emergency, the proceedings of the little ant-lion cannot fail to excite the deepest sympathy. With incredible exertion it lifts the pebble on its back; it then commences its retrograde ascent up the slope of the den; but at every step of its progress, the load may be seen to totter to one side or the other; but the expert porter elevates the segments of its back in order to restore the balance. It sometimes occurs, that, when it has very nearly reached the top of the excavation, a false step causes it to stumble in this unlucky case, all its efforts are frustrated, and the stone rolls headlong to the bottom. Mortified, but not despairing, the unwearied ant-lion returns to the charge; again places the stone on its back, and again ascends the sloping side, artfully availing itself of the channel which had been formed by the rolling stone-the sides of this channel frequently serving to support the load. Throughout the whole progress of the work, the insect shows itself a most expert engineer. It describes a perfect circle, and traces out a volute, without the assistance of a pair of compasses; and gives the slope of earth which it hollows, all the solidity of which it is susceptible.

All difficulties having been at length surmounted, the pit is finished; it is a conical excavation, rather more than two inches deep, and about three inches in diameter at the top, gradually diminishing in its dimensions until it becomes no more than a point at the bottom. It is at this narrow part of the den, that the ant-lion now takes its station; and lest its uncouth and forbidding appearance should scare away any prey which might happen to approach its lurking hole, it conceals its whole body under a layer

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of sand, except the points of its expanded forceps, which stick out above the surface. It seldom happens that much time elapses before some vagrant ant, unsuspicious of danger, arrives upon the margin of the den. Impelled by some fatal motive, it is prompted to explore the depth below; and bitterly is it made to rue its prying intrusion. The treacherous sand gives way under its feet; the struggles which it makes to escape serve but to accelerate its descent; and it falls headlong into the open forceps of its destroyer. The ant, however, sometimes succeeds in arresting its downward progress half-way, when it uses every effort to scramble up the sloping side. Furnished with six eyes on each side of the head, the ant-lion is sufficiently sharp-sighted to perceive this manœuvre. Roused by the prospect of losing the expected delicacy, it instantly throws off its inactivity; shovels loads of sand upon its head, and vigorously throws it after the retreating victim. The blows which the ant thus receives, from substances comparatively of great size, soon bring it down within the grasp of the terrible pincers which are extended to receive it. If one shower should fail, another soon follows, and lucky indeed must be the insect which can effect its escape.'-pp. 229-234.

The transformation of the ant-lion, one of the most extraordinary things in the whole history of insects, we have already mentioned. Were we not afraid of extending this article beyond all reasonable limits, we might be tempted to go more fully into that interesting subject. We should also have amused ourselves with pointing out a few errors into which the author of the History' has fallen, in his account of spiders, who, he thinks, have the power of projecting from one tree to another, or from bank to bank of a river, their silken threads. The observations made by Mr. Rennie, in the 'Insect Architecture,' upon spiders, are much more satisfactory. That intelligent naturalist has placed it, we apprehend, beyond doubt, that spiders have no such power, and that when they do succeed in extending a silken bridge from one point to another, they effect it by means of the current of air in which they are placed. They emit the thread, which floats in the direction of the current, and from its glutinous nature adheres to anything which it touches. The ingenuity of the insect is exercised in finding out the current suited to the direction in which he wishes to move.

Anxious as we are to encourage any works which are calculated to render natural history interesting to all classes of readers, we feel no disposition to enter into an invidious comparison between the two volumes from which we have just derived so much entertainment. Nevertheless, we cannot but observe that the illustrations, or wood-cuts, in Mr. Murray's book are both too few in number, and too inferior in point of execution, to give it a chance of fair rivalry in this respect with its competitor. The disadvantage of Mr. Rennie's volume is, that it is confined to one part of a subject. After learning from him the mode in which a bee, an ant, or a caterpillar constructs his mansion, we wish to go on, and know something of the habits of these insects, and the changes which they and others undergo. But we are stopped short in our