Chapter III: Part 3

"But, Uncle Philip, you said that a piece of man's best work was really coarse: some things must be neat, we should think. Is the point of a needle coarse? It does not seem so."

"Boys, you have mentioned the very thing which was in my mind when I spoke. The point of the smallest needle is very coarse. You have heard me talk of the microscope. I told you it was a set of glasses, so fixed that when you looked through them, it made small things appear very large: on some other day, perhaps, I will let you look through my microscope for yourselves; but now, I just wish to show you the difference between the work of God and that of man. Let us go home, and I will show you some pictures I made, and you can see in them the difference. Last winter, you know, was very cold, and there was a great deal of snow: one day, while the snow was falling pretty fast, I was obliged to go out; and as the flakes of snow fell upon the sleeve of my coat (which was black), I thought they had a curious shape, and did not all appear alike; so when I returned home I caught some of the flakes, and looked at them through my microscope. They were so beautiful that I made pictures of them; and as we have now reached home, just let me step into my study, and I will bring them to you. Here they are, boys."

"Oh, Uncle Philip! these are very pretty; they are all so different, too!"

"Yes, boys, I picked out different ones to draw: when I was done, I began to look into my books to find out what others had written about this thing; and I found that a gentleman named Dr. Hook had seen more than a hundred different shapes and sizes of these flakes. This is God's work, boys.

"Now I have brought you out another picture: it is the point of a very small needle, seen through the very same microscope which showed me the snow-flakes. Just look at it, boys. This is _man's_ work."

CONVERSATION IX.

_Uncle Phillip tells the Boys a Story about a Philosopher and
his Kite.--He tells them, too, about Ants that have Awls, and build
Cities, and Stairs, and Bridges, and many other things._

"So, boys, you have come again to see me. I am very glad of it; for as this is a leisure day, we shall have time enough to talk: but what is that you have there? Oh, I see now; it is a kite."

"Yes, Uncle Philip; it is a French kite that we have been making, and we have come to ask you to go out with us this morning and see us fly it."

"Very good, boys; I will go. I am an old man now; but I remember that I was a boy once, and loved to make a kite sail. It always makes me happy to see boys and girls playing about in health, provided they are not wasting time, and their play is not to do harm to anybody or any thing. So come on; we will go out upon the green common yonder, behind the church, and I think we shall have a grand kite-flying, for the wind is about right.

"There, boys! up she goes! Let out the string. I think she behaves very well; there, she is done pitching about: now she is steady; see how she mounts. Ah, that is a very good kite."

"Uncle Philip, I was reading a book yesterday which said, 'A philosopher once found great help from a kite.' What did it mean?"

"Do you know what a philosopher is?"

"Yes, Uncle Philip; a philosopher is the same thing with a very wise man, is it not?"

"That is pretty near the meaning. Philosopher means a person who loves wisdom; and such a person, you know, will always be trying to get knowledge; and a person who is always trying to get knowledge is apt to be a wise and learned man."

"Well, how could a kite help a man to get learning? Did he read the old newspapers it was made of? I cannot see any other way."

"But there may be another way without your seeing it, you know. The philosopher whom your book meant was Dr. Franklin. Did you ever hear of him?"

"Oh, yes; he was born in Boston, and was a printer, and afterward became a very great man."

"That is true. He was a man of excellent sense, who both read and thought a great deal; and in the war which the people of this country had with England to get their freedom. Dr. Franklin's sound sense was of great use to his countrymen."

"But, Uncle Philip, how did the kite help him?"

"I will tell you. If you take a proper piece of glass, or sulphur, or sealing-wax, or rosin, and rub it for some time, and then hold it near to small bits of thread or paper, the thread or paper will fly towards the glass or sealing-wax, and stick to it for a short time. That which makes them fly to the glass and stick there, is called _electricity_. After this was found out, men went on slowly finding out more and more, until at last a man named Hawksbee made a large machine with a glass barrel, which could be turned around by a handle like that which you see to a grindstone; and with this machine (which I will show you at some other time) he managed to get a great deal of this electricity, and it would shoot off in sparks, which appeared like little lightning.

"And now, boys, what I am going to tell you will show you the use of a man's eyes. Dr. Franklin knew all about the electrical machine, and was very fond of drawing off the sparks from it, to see what he could find out about it. And when he saw it appeared so much like lightning, and could feel too a spark strike his hand a smart blow, he began to think that perhaps it was exactly the same thing with the lightning which came from the clouds; so he determined, if he could, to find out whether it was or not. He was a great deal troubled for some time to know how he should get down any of the lightning from the clouds; until at last, one day, he saw a boy flying a kite; and that showed him the way. So he took a large silk handkerchief, and stretching it upon sticks, soon made his kite; and not long afterward, when he saw a black thunder-cloud coming up, he took his kite and walked out of Philadelphia (where he then lived) into the fields, and sent his kite up. He had a string like yours, made of hemp, and to the end of this he tied an iron key, and then fastening it to the post of a shed by a silk cord, which he tied to the end of the hemp string, he got under the shed, and waited a long time. Now, boys, if he had been impatient, all his work would have been of no use. But he even waited, after a very heavy cloud had passed over his kite without giving it any of its lightning. At last, when he was almost ready to give it up and go home, he saw some loose threads on the hemp string rise and stand up straight, just as he knew the electrical machine would make them do. He directly put his knuckle to the iron key, and off came the spark, which he knew at once was exactly like the spark which he could get from the machine. And so, boys, he found out what he wished to know; and this was the way in which the kite helped the philosopher."

"Well, Uncle Philip, this is really a very pretty story about Dr. Franklin and his kite. Was anybody with him?"

"Nobody but his son; he took him out to help him raise the kite. But, boys, I see the other lads are walking on towards the bridge with our kite; let us follow them, and as we go, I will tell you of an electric _animal_."

"Oh, we shall be very glad to hear of him."

"Listen, then. There is a kind of eel, which when it is touched will give a very hard blow, just like an electric shock, to the person who touches it."

"Is there any spark, Uncle Philip?"

"No, boys; there is no spark,--but the blow is tremendous. I remember reading of one of these fish which was caught in a net, and a foolish sailor would take it up, though he was told it would hurt him. The fish shocked him so violently that he fell down in a fit, and it was a long time before he came to his senses; and his story was, that the moment he touched the fish, 'the cold ran swiftly up his arm into his body, and pierced him to the heart.' The fish has this power to defend itself, and to kill other fish for food."

"But, Uncle Philip, how do they ever manage to catch them alive? I should think they would be shocked to death."

"I will tell you. A very sensible traveller and learned man[9] gives an account of the manner in which they catch them, by a way called, by the South American Indians, 'fishing with horses.'"

"Fishing with horses! What does that mean?"

"The savannas, or large open plains, in South America have a great many wild horses and mules running over them. M. Humboldt says that the Indians caught about thirty of these, and drove them into the pond where the electrical eels were. The horses made a great noise, and stirred up the mud with their hoofs, and this brought up the eels from the bottom in a great rage. They were very large, and looked more like water-snakes than like eels; and rising to the top of the water, they crowded under the bellies of the horses and mules, and began to shock them. The poor horses would try to get out of the pond; but the Indians, with spears and long reeds, would stand around to hinder them from coming out: some of them, too, would climb upon the trees around the banks, and get out upon the branches which were over the pond, and by crying out aloud, and using their long reeds, kept the horses in the pond. The eels would continue to shock them with tremendous blows, and a great many of the poor creatures were either stunned or killed, and would sink. Those not killed would pant and raise their heads, while their eyes would show their pain, and they would try to get out. The Indians still drove them back, but some few escaped, and reached the shore, stumbling at every step, and would stretch themselves on the bank, tired out, and benumbed in their limbs by the shocks they had received. M. Humboldt says that in less than five minutes after the fight began, two horses were drowned; and he thought that the end of it would be, that every horse which did not get out of the water would be killed: but at last the eels became tired, and began to disperse. This is just what the Indians wish. They know that the eels have spent so much of their electrical power that they will need a long rest. It takes them a great while to get back their strength; so that if, the next day after such a fight, you send in more horses, they cannot kill one. When the eels, tired out in this way, begin to separate, they will swim to the edge of the pond, and there the Indians take them with small harpoons fastened to long cords. When the cords are dry, the Indian feels no shock in raising the eel out of the water. In this way M. Humboldt got five, all alive, and very little hurt. But here we are at the bridge."

"Uncle Philip, suppose we sit down under the shade of this tree, and rest."

"I am willing, boys; but take care of the damp ground: there is an old piece of timber that the men have taken out of the bridge, for I see they have been mending it; we will sit on that."

"But, Uncle Philip, what shall we do with the kite? shall we draw it down?"

"Do with it! Why, just tie the end of your string to that root, and it will take care of itself in this wind."

"What a monstrous piece of timber this is. Uncle Philip! It must have taken a great many men to move it; and see--there are some larger ones still in the bridge. It must be a difficult work to build a bridge."

"Yes, it is so: but there are bridges much harder to build than our little wooden one here. Some are built of stone, and it takes years to finish them. None but a good workman can plan and build a good stone bridge: but I know a little fellow that can make as good a bridge as anybody; and yet no man ever taught him the trade."

"Ah! now we know what is coming. You are going to tell us of a dumb animal that can make a bridge."

"Yes, I am: and a small animal it is, too, for it is an ant."

"What sort of an ant is it?"

"It is called the white ant; and as there is a great deal that is very curious about this insect. I think that I had better tell you all about it at once."

"Pray do, Uncle Philip; you know you promised to tell us about ants."

"True, boys; and I like to keep my promises. In my story about these ants, I think, if you attend, you will find more tools; and besides that, you will hear of a great many things which man makes, and which show matters quite as strange as any of which I have yet told you."

"What are they, Uncle Philip?"

"They are the building of something like a city, and bridges, and stairs, and roads, and tunnels under ground, and--"

"Oh, let us hear--let us hear! We have heard nothing equal to this yet."

"Well, then, I begin by telling you that these insects are very common in Africa, and in the East Indies, and are troublesome enough, for they eat almost every thing but metal and glass. They love wood, though, better than any thing else; and they are so numerous that they destroy it wonderfully fast. They are very cunning, too; they never eat the outside of the wood first, but will work upon the inside, so as to leave the outer part not thicker than a piece of pasteboard. But the curious things I meant to tell you were about their city; so I will go on to that. When they first begin to build you will see little hills shaped like a sugar-loaf, and rising up above the ground about a foot, or a little more. Here is a picture of them.

The highest of these little hills is always in the middle; and they go on building more and more, and making them all higher, still keeping the tallest one in the centre. When they have made them as high as they wish, then they fill in the spaces between the tops of all these sugar-loaf hills, so as to make one roof over all. Here is a picture of one finished.

After this is done, they take down nearly all of the little sugar-loaf hills inside; for they only wanted them for a scaffold to support the top while they were building it."

"Uncle Philip, what is all this built of?"

"It is built of clay, which the ant makes almost as hard as stone."

"Are they strong, Uncle Philip?

"So strong, boys, that five men may stand on them; and it is a common thing for the wild bulls to get upon them and look out, while the rest of the herd are feeding below."

"Why, how high are they?"

"Oh, of different heights; some as many as five or six feet, others are twelve, and the largest are as high as twenty feet, and would easily hold a dozen men."

"And how large are the ants, Uncle Philip?"

"Not above a quarter of an inch high as they stand. Now, boys, just compare the size of one of these nests with the size of the ant that made it; and it is quite as large in proportion as the city of New-York is when compared to a man's size; yes, it is a great deal larger in proportion. These nests are sometimes five hundred times as high as the ants which build them: now suppose that men built their houses five hundred times as high as themselves, and as large at the foundation in proportion to their height, what monstrous buildings they would be! But let me go on. This outside shell, which I have been telling you how they make, is nothing but the wall of the city; the buildings are all inside of that."

"But, Uncle Philip, there is one thing I have been thinking of which would make it more like a city still. But I hardly think they can have that."

"What is it?"

"Why in a city, you know, where there are a great many people, there are a great many trades: some do one thing and some do another to get money."

"Yes, that is true; and I am glad that you mentioned it, because it reminds me of one thing I intended to tell you about these ants. Now, it would not be reasonable, you know, to expect the ants to have many different kinds of business to do, as the people in New-York have; but still, boys, they are not all alike, and they do have work of different kinds. There are in the city of the white ants a king and a queen, and soldiers, and labourers, or workmen, and all these are different. Here are pictures which will show them all to you. This is the king.

At first he has four wings, but soon loses them. He never grows any larger after he loses them. The king may be known by his having two large eyes. Here is the queen. She is the mother of the whole city; and you see what a large body she has. It is full of eggs, and eighty thousand will come from her in twenty-four hours. She also has two eyes.

"Here is a soldier: he has a large head, armed with two hooks, shaped like a crooked awl, and very sharp.

"For every one of these soldiers there are about one hundred labourers. The soldiers do the fighting; and though they are perfectly blind, they fight well, and are very brave. The following is a picture, too, of the soldiers' awls, seen through the microscope, to show you how sharp they are.

"And here is a picture of the labourer; the largest part of the city is made up of the labourers,--which shows us, I think, boys, that there is more need of working than there is of fighting.

This class, like the soldiers, is blind, and scarcely ever go into the open air; their work is mostly under ground or in the inside of wood. Both, however, do come out when their city is attacked and broken: but I will tell you of that presently."

FOOTNOTE:

[9] M. Humboldt.

CONVERSATION X.

_Uncle Philip tells the Children more about the White Ants._

"Now, boys, as I have told you about the kinds of different work which these ants do, we will go on, and I will tell you about the inside of the city. The first thing to be done is to build a house for the king and queen. This is the first house built in the city, and always stands in the centre, directly under the point of the roof or top of the outside wall. It is built nearly on a level with the ground, and is shaped very much like a long oven, or the half of an egg split through the long way. The floor is exactly level, and about an inch thick; the roof is about the same thickness. The doors are on a level with the floor, and just large enough to let one of the labourers go in."

"Why, Uncle Philip, how do the king and queen ever get out then."

"They never do get out, boys; they live in that house always, and they are not the first kings and queens who have found that a palace is sometimes a prison. Just around this house of the king and queen are other houses built of clay, arched at the top, and of different shapes. These are for the servants or labouring ants, who remove the eggs of the queen as fast as she discharges them. The soldiers also live in these houses. Next to these are the magazines, that is, the houses where they keep their food, such as dry juices of trees and gums; and mixed up with these are the nurseries. These are made by the labourers, and are different from all the other buildings, for they are made of wood gnawed or broken into fine threads, and joined together with some kind of gum, and around each of them there is a case of clay. These nurseries are to carry the eggs into for the young ants to be hatched. Between all these different houses or parts there are thousands of galleries or ways, which run among them and separate them from each other, and these may be called the streets of the city. These streets run in all directions, and extend as far as the outside wall; and houses are built on top of houses, and streets run over streets, until they reach up as high as two-thirds of the inside wall. But under the top of their outside case they always leave a large open place that is never filled up with houses. And around this space they will build three or four large arches, sometimes two or three feet high; these I suppose are to prevent the houses from falling in towards the centre of the city, which is an open space, and on the other side they are fastened to the outside walls, so that these houses are very firm."

"And what is all this made of, Uncle Philip?"

"All of clay, except the nurseries, which I told you were made of wood and gum. Over the house of the king and queen there is a sort of flat floor, some distance above it, with nurseries and magazines between the under side of it and the top of the queen's house. This floor will not let the water through it, so as to wet the palace where the king and queen live, but will turn it off into large trenches or gutters under ground, of which I will speak directly. The bridge I told you of they build from this floor in the open space, directly under the top or dome of the outside wall; it rises up and is joined to some hole in the side wall of the houses above it."

"How large is it, Uncle Philip?"

"Why, sometimes it is half an inch broad, a quarter of an inch thick, and ten inches long; all made of clay, so that it is very strange how they manage to join it to the wall without its falling down by its own weight while they were building it."

"And what do you suppose this bridge is for, Uncle Philip?"

"Why, I think there can be no doubt what it is for. When the city has been growing for some time, some of the nurseries will be very high up above the queen's house; but the labourers have to carry her eggs into them, no matter how far off they may be. If they carry them through all the streets, they will have to walk as many as fifteen or twenty feet, for it would be five or six feet in a perfectly straight line, and these streets are very crooked; but if they make a bridge in the open space in the centre, they can then go from the queen's house over the bridge, and get to the upper nurseries without travelling more than two feet. So they made the bridge to shorten the way, to be sure."

"This is very wonderful: but you said something about large trenches or gutters underground; what are they, Uncle Philip?"

"These galleries lead from the city under ground, and are as large as the bore of a large cannon; they are thirteen inches across, and more than a hundred yards long. I have already told you that the labourers never come out into the light, when they can help it; and these underground ways are the great roads to the city, to fetch in clay, or wood, or water, or provisions: and now I will tell you another thing which shows a great deal of sense. As some of their houses are very high up, you know they would find it very hard to climb up through all the streets with a heavy load in a straight line; so when these large ways underground reach the outside wall, they just come through and keep on winding around the inside of it like a corkscrew all the way to the top; and there are other galleries opening from it at different places into the city. One thing has been noticed about these ants; they can scarcely climb at all up a perpendicular wall. Therefore on the upright side of any part of the city you may see a road made, standing out from the wall like a ledge; it is flat on the top, and half an inch wide, and goes up gradually like a stair-case, or like a road cut out on the side of a mountain.

"Here is a picture of one of their cities cut straight down through the middle. At the bottom, in the centre, is the queen's house; over it is a floor, and the two crooked things you see rising up from the floor, are bridges."

"But, Uncle Philip, you said you would tell us about the soldiers and labourers coming out when the city is attacked."

"Yes, I did. As soon as a hole is made in the outside wall, you will see a soldier run out, and walk about as if to look around; but as he is blind, it cannot be to see what the danger is. He may have some way though of finding out without seeing. Presently he will go in, as if to tell the others, and then out pour the soldiers in great numbers, as fast as the hole will let them; and just as long as you strike the outside wall, they will continue to rush out. They seem to be in a terrible passion. They are in such a hurry that sometimes they slip, and roll down the outside of the hill; but they jump up again instantly, and begin to bite every thing they run against, for they are blind and cannot tell a friend from an enemy."

"Do they bite hard, Uncle Philip?"

"Very hard indeed. They make their hooked jaws, which are like awls, you know, meet at every bite; and if it should happen to be a man's leg they get hold of, you would see upon his stocking a spot of blood an inch long. At every bite too you may hear their jaws snapping together and making quite a noise. Some of them too (perhaps they are the officers) are constantly beating with their awls upon the outside wall, and make a sound something quicker and sharper than the ticking of a watch. You may hear it at a distance of three or four feet. When these biters lay hold, nothing will make them let go; you must tear them away by pieces. After you stop striking the wall, in about half an hour they seem to get over their rage and go back into the city, and then out come the labourers. While the noise continues you will not see one of them; they all fled at the first appearance of danger. But now they come, each one with a bundle of mortar in his mouth, ready made; and they stick it on the hole so fast, and with such order, that though thousands and thousands are at work they never interrupt each other. And while the labourers are busy, if you look you may commonly see a soldier or two walking about; but they never touch the mortar, nor help in any way to mend the hole. One of these soldiers always stands near the spot where the labourers are at work, and every now and then turns slowly around, and frequently lifts up his head, and with his awls beats upon the building, and makes a sort of hissing noise. As soon as that is done you may hear a loud hiss from all the labourers, both on the outside of the wall and from the inside of the city, and then the labourers run faster, and work as quick again. If you attack the nest again, away run all the labourers as fast as their legs will carry them, and out pour the soldiers as before; and the same thing is always seen upon every attack, of soldiers to fight and labourers to work."

"Well, Uncle Philip, this is a very strange story; much more interesting than any we have yet heard."

"I thought it would please you, boys; but there are still stranger things among animals, and perhaps you will say so when you know more.

"But it is now time to return home; so take in the kite and let us be going."

FOOTNOTE:

[10] Mr. Huber the younger.

CONVERSATION XI.

_Uncle Philip tells the Children about some other Ants, that
are very good Masons, and build Walls and Ceilings; and a Story
about a very sensible Ant, which seemed to think a little._

"Good morning, good morning, Uncle Philip; we have been so much delighted with the stories about the white ants, that we hope you have more of the same kind to tell us."

"Why, as to that matter, boys, I can tell you much more about ants, for there are many kinds of them; but I am not sure that I can show you any of the _tools_ with which they work, though a large portion of their work is like that of man; and they have, too, several customs which our fellow-creatures have. I can tell you, however, of several other animals which do use tools shaped like those used by men, if you would rather hear of them."

"If you please, Uncle Philip, we will hear of them at another time; but now we would rather have you tell us of the other kinds of ants."

"Oh, very well, boys; it shall be as you wish. All that I desire is to instruct and amuse you, and I am sure that the ants can furnish a good lesson to us. I shall begin with the mason ants. They always build their nests either of clay which is damp, and dug from the inside of their city under ground, or which has been made wet by the rain; and a part of their building is always above the ground, so that you can easily see it. There is no fixed rule for the ants to build by. Their cities are not all alike in the inside. Sometimes the walls are larger and coarser, and the ways and galleries are higher, than at other times. The rooms, too, are different in shape and size, so that this industrious little insect seems to have sense enough to work in the best way according to circumstances. There is only one general rule which they seem to have, and that is always to build in a number of different stories, one above the other. If you examine one of these stories you may see a number of large places or halls, some smaller rooms, and some long galleries which serve as passage-ways. The tops of these large halls are covered with an arched ceiling, and this ceiling is held up, sometimes by little columns, sometimes by very thin walls, or by props built against the side walls, just like buttresses. There are also chambers which have but one door, which opens into the lower story, and large open places in the centre of the nest something like a cross road, and all these little galleries or streets come into that open place."

"Any bridges, Uncle Philip?"

"No, boys; no bridges among these ants, so far as I know. There will sometimes be as many as twenty stories above ground in the ant-hill, and as many below. The best time to see these little fellows at work is in a gentle shower of rain, or directly after."

"Why do they work in the rain, Uncle Philip?"

"I suppose, boys, it is because the earth is then better for them; and one thing that has been noticed about their work is, that the rain, when it is not too violent, seems to make it solid, for these ants have no gum or glue about them like some other insects, to make the earth stick together. As soon as the rain begins, if you watch the brown ants, you may see them come out of the ground in great numbers; and then running in again, they will soon return, each one with a little piece of dirt in his mouth, which he puts down upon the roof of the nest. A gentleman who watched them very closely[10] says, that at first he could not think what this was done for, but at last he saw little walls begin to rise up with spaces left between them. In some places pillars were begun, placed at regular distances, and he knew that these were to support ceilings; so he found out that they were going to build another story to their house, and they were laying the foundations."

"How I should have liked to see them. Uncle Philip. I would not have cared for the rain."

"Ah, I see you are fit to be a naturalist. You know what that word means, do you not?"

"It means, Uncle Philip, a man who loves to study about the animals and insects, does it not?"

"It means a man or a woman either, boys, who loves to study the things in nature no matter whether they are animals, or stones, or grass, or flowers, or any of the things which God has made. Mark, boys, I said to study the things, and you said to study _about_ the things. Now a person may read a great deal that is interesting and true about all these things in books; and it is very well to do so; but I think that the real naturalist will never be satisfied with books only; he will be looking to see things for himself. And I said a woman might be a naturalist, because some ladies have been fond of natural history, and have proved themselves to be very good naturalists. But let us go back to the ants. Mr. Huber, in the account which he gives of his having watched these little workmen, never thought of telling us whether he got wet or not, because he was too busy to think or care much about it. He had an opportunity of seeing what he might never see again, and a little rain was not to spoil it. He says that each ant, as it brought out its little lump of dirt, would place it on the spot where it wished it to be, and press against it with its teeth, so as to make it fit closely. It then rubbed its feelers all over it, and after that pressed upon it lightly with its fore-feet. The walls went on very rapidly, and it often happened that two little walls, which were to make a passage or gallery, would be raised opposite and at a small distance from each other. When they were about a quarter of an inch high, the ants would set to work and cover them with an arched ceiling. After they had raised all the walls as high as they wished, on the inside of each wall at the top they began to put in pieces of wet dirt almost level, and in such a way as to make a ledge; and by joining on more dirt to it, it would meet the ledge made from the opposite wall so as to make a roof: these roofs over the galleries were about a quarter of an inch across. The ceilings over the large halls were sometimes as much as two inches in breadth, and to support these they raised pillars; and beginning in the corner where two walls joined, they would commence the ceiling with a ledge, while from the top of each pillar they would also build out a layer of earth a little rounded on the top; these they continued to add to until all met and made a complete cover for the hall."

"I wonder it did not fall, Uncle Philip, before they could join it together."

"Mr. Huber says that he thought several times it would fall, from the rain which was dropping upon it all the time; but he found that the pieces held together, and that the rain, instead of hurting it, only made it more solid. All that it wants, when the ants have done, is a little heat from the sun to bake it hard, and then it appears like a piece of solid dirt. Sometimes, if the rain be violent, the apartments will be destroyed, especially if the arches are not built strongly; and when this happens, the little creatures go to work very patiently and rebuild them."

"And how long, Uncle Philip, did it take the ants to put another story on their house?"

"Between seven and eight hours; and they had hardly finished one before they began another, but they had not time to finish it, for the rain stopped before they had built much: however, they kept on, taking advantage of the wet earth; but a cold drying wind soon sprang up, and the earth would not stick; so they stopped: but what do you think they did with the new story which they had not time to finish?"

"What _did_ they do, Uncle Philip?"

"Pulled every part of it to pieces, and scattered the dirt here and there over the roof of the story which they had finished.

"I will tell you another story about these ants, boys, which I think is most wonderful, because it appears so much like reason. These insects all seem to work separately,--I mean without attending to the work of others: of course sometimes the work done by different ants on opposite sides of the same gallery or hall will not suit: one wall will be higher than the other, so that the ceilings will not meet. Mr. Huber saw just such a case; the ceiling which was begun from one wall would just have reached the other wall about half-way up; and while he was wondering how the ants would cure the fault, one of them came, and looking at the work, seemed to know that it was wrong, and immediately began by taking down the ceiling from the lower wall; he then raised it to the same height with the opposite wall, and made a new ceiling in Mr. Huber's presence with the pieces of the old one."

"Uncle Philip, if that ant did not know how to think, I am mistaken."

"I must confess, boys, it does seem very much like thinking; and if it was not thinking, we must at any rate own that it was something which, _in this case_, did quite as well; for no thought of man could have hit upon a better plan. But if the ant knew how to think as a man does, do you suppose it would ever have made the mistake? Would not the workmen have all agreed beforehand what they were to do, and how it should be done, so that there might be no need of pulling down any of the work because it would not suit? I think that this story, boys, while it shows us something like reason in _one_ particular instance, shows us also that _in general_ the ant has not reason like ours. But I am tired now, and can tell you no more this morning. When you come again I shall be ready to talk with you about some other kinds of ants. But before you go, tell me--can any of you inform me what the Bible says about the ant?"

"Oh yes, Uncle Philip: it says, 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise.'"

"Well, another question. Have you any lessons to say when you go into school on Monday?"

"Yes, Uncle Philip; we have."

"Have you learned them, boys?"

"No, sir."

"Then remember what the Bible says to the sluggard, and go and learn them at once. Good-by, children."

"Good-by, Uncle Philip: we will learn our lessons."

CONVERSATION XII.

_Uncle Philip tells the Boys about Ants that go to War and
fight Battles; and about some that are Thieves, and have Slaves._

"Well, my lads, how do you do to-day?"

"Very well, Uncle Philip, we thank you. And we wish to let you know that we kept our promise to learn our lessons. Our teacher was very well satisfied with every one of us."

"That is well, boys. I am truly glad to hear this from you: and I make no doubt that you also felt a great deal happier than you would have done had you neglected to learn your lessons. Did you not?"

"Oh yes, Uncle Philip, much happier; and far more cheerful and good-natured."

"Such are apt to be the feelings, boys, of those who have done their _duty_. I am verily persuaded that there is no such thing as real, solid happiness in this world, but in that man who acts from a sense of duty. His is true peace, because it is 'the peace of God.' I do not say, boys, that a man, even when he does his duty, _always_ feels comfortable or happy _at once_; but he will be more apt to feel so than if he did not do his duty: and I do say that no man who does not act from a sense of duty, is likely to feel any thing like happiness very often or very long."

"Then, Uncle Philip, a man who wishes to be happy will try in the first place to find out what his duty is."

"To be sure, he will; and he need not try very long either, if he really wishes to know it. The will of God, boys, is at the bottom of all our duties; and an honest man, yes, or boy either, can commonly tell what God will think to be right or wrong in his conduct. You know where a great many of our duties are very plainly written down for us; do you not?"

"Oh yes, sir; in the New Testament, which tells us of what our Saviour said and did."

"True. And what our Saviour commanded, boys, God commanded; for He is God. But besides this, when it is not exactly written down in the New Testament what we should do, still if we will think, we shall very often find out what to do, from what is written."

"Uncle Philip, we almost always know what you mean; but now, we do not quite understand you."

"Thank you, boys, for telling me that you do not know what I mean: always tell any person who is trying to teach you something, when you do not understand what is said to you. Now I will try to make what I said plainer to you. The New Testament does not say any thing about your going to school; does it?"

"No, sir."

"Who sends you to school, boys, and pays your teachers for instructing you?"

"Our parents, Uncle Philip."

"Very well. Now suppose that John Carter here, should wish, instead of going to school, to do, what I am very sure he never did do: suppose he should determine to play the truant. The Bible does not say a boy shall not play the truant, does it?"

"No, Uncle Philip."

"But if John Carter should play the truant, he would, in doing so, disobey what God has commanded in the Bible just as much as if the Bible did say 'A boy shall not play the truant;' for the Bible does say, '_Children obey your parents_,' and he could not be a truant without disobeying his parents, who bade him go to school."

"Uncle Philip, we understand you very well now."

"There is another thing I wish you to understand, boys. John Carter, as you see, would not only disobey his parents, which is wicked, but he would also commit a _sin_ against God. That is always the thing to look at first. When we are going to do something that we are not very sure is right, we should always stop to ask ourselves whether God will be pleased with it. But I have said enough to you about our duty for this time. Now for the ants I promised to tell you of. And the first sort I shall mention are great fighters."

"Fighters, Uncle Philip! What do they fight about?"

"About trifles, boys, just as men do. They have terrible wars, and will dispute with and kill each other for a few inches of dirt, when certainly this world is large enough for them all. But animals wiser than ants, boys, act in the same foolish way. Men sometimes go to war and kill each other to determine who shall have a river, or a small town, or a fort, or some little spot of ground; while the poor creatures who do the fighting, and get all the wounds, and lose their lives, had they been let alone, would have lived on in peace, and never cared a straw who had the miserable little spot they fight for. But let me go on with the account of these ants. In the forests, where the fallow ants live, you may see these wars. The battle will be between the ants of different hills, but they are all ants of the same sort. Thousands and thousands of them will meet on the ground between their hills, and the battle begins by two ants, who seize each other by the claws (or _mandibles_, as they are called), and rising up on their hind-legs, they bring their bodies near together, and spirt a sort of venomous or poisonous juice upon each other. These will be followed by thousands of others on both sides, who seize each other in the same way, and fight in pairs--ant to ant. Sometimes they will get so wedged together that they fall down upon their sides, but they do not let go on that account; they keep on fighting in the dust until they rise on their feet again. Sometimes, too, a third ant will come in, and joining whichever of them belongs to his nest, the two will begin to drag the third, until some of his friends come to his help; and in this way, others joining on both sides, they will form strings of six, or eight, or ten on a side, pulling with all their strength. And while some are fighting, you will see others leading off prisoners towards their hills, while the prisoners are trying to escape. The field of battle is not more, perhaps, than three feet square; multitudes of dead ants covered with venom may be seen upon it, and there is a very strong scent which comes from it. When night comes they go off to their hills. Before dawn the next day they are at it again in still larger numbers, and they fight with greater fury than before, until at last one side or the other gives way. They are so busy that even if you stand near them they take no notice of you, and not one stops fighting, or crawls up your legs."

"Do all of them that belong to the hill go out to fight, Uncle Philip?"

"No; near the hills all is peace and order, and work seems to be going on as usual. Only on the side next to the battle, crowds may be seen running backwards and forwards from both hills; some as messengers, I suppose, and some to fight, or carry back prisoners."

"But, Uncle Philip, you said that these ants were all of one sort; how then do they know one another so as to tell which party each one belongs to? I should think that sometimes they would make a mistake, and fight a friend instead of an enemy."

"This, boys, is one of the most wonderful things concerning them. They are alike in form, and size, and weapons, and strength; and sometimes it happens that they do make a mistake, but it is very seldom; and when they do, Mr. Huber, who watched one of their battles, says that they find it out directly, and caress each other with their feelers, and make up the difficulty at once.

"Are you tired, boys, or do you wish to hear more?"

"Oh, let us hear more, by all means: we are not at all tired."

"I will then tell you of another kind of ants called legionary ants, and sometimes amazons; but I am sorry to say that they are unlike other ants, for they are lazy; and yet they live very comfortably."

"How is that, Uncle Philip? Can they be comfortable without working?"

"Yes, boys, if they can get others to work for them; and these have their work mostly done by their slaves."

"By their slaves! what are their slaves, and where did they get them?"

"As to your first question, boys, their slaves are ants of another kind; as to the second question--where they get them--they _stole_ them when they were young."

"Why you surprise us, Uncle Philip."