demand and receive their food; lengthening their bodies, and with their mouths sucking the mouths of the labourers, as little birds stretch out their necks and open their bills on the approach of their parents. The labourer opens his mouth, and gives to his little charge the required supply. As the larvæ increase in size and strength, the aliment provided for them becomes daily more solid and nutritious.

When the larvæ have attained their full growth they spin a silken covering, called by entomologists a cocoon: in this they completely enclose themselves, and remain perfectly quiescent without receiving any nutriment, awaiting the final change when they are to assume the form of perfect ants. This stage of its existence is the pupa, but is commonly, although very erroneously, called the egg. "Ants' eggs," as they are vulgarly called, are a favourite food for partridges and pheasants, and are eagerly sought after by persons who rear these birds from the egg. The cocoon containing the pupa is of a long cylindrical form, of a dirty white colour, and is perfectly without motion. The pupa within the cocoon has now attained the form which it will finally possess; its limbs are distinct, but want strength and consistence, and are covered by a skin which has yet to be cast. In colour it changes from white to a pale yellow, then to red, and finally becomes almost black; its wings, if a male or female, are distinctly visible, but do not assume the shape, size, or character, they are hereafter destined to bear.

As the laying of eggs continues for some weeks, and each egg is hatched, as before stated, at a period of fifteen days, it necessarily follows that the family, although equally progressing towards maturity, must be in different stages, so that eggs, larvæ of all sizes, and pupæ, abound in the nest at the same time. When the rays of the sun warm the exterior of a nest thus stocked with inhabitants, a most

At

animated scene takes place. The ants on the exterior are the first to feel the influence of the warmth: they enter the nest, run along the avenues and galleries to the various chambers, and communicate the intelligence to every ant they meet, tapping one gently with their antennæ, and even biting another severely with their mandibles. last the whole colony seems to partake of the excitement, and each labourer then carefully takes a larva or pupa in its mouth, conveys it through all the winding passages to the outside, and places it in such a position as to receive the rays of the sun. This operation is attended with vast exertion, for the pupa of the females are often more than double the weight of the labourers who carry them, and are not to be conveyed through the long circuitous passages without a labour that appears almost incredible. Notwithstanding, however, the difficulties which have to be overcome in placing the larvæ and pupa in this situation, they are seldom allowed to receive the full rays of the sun for a longer time than fifteen or twenty minutes, and are then conveyed into little cells, constructed on the exterior of the nest purposely to receive them, and protected from the too great ardour of the sun's rays, by a slight covering of chaff, stubble, or other light matter. As the heat of the sun decreases in the afternoon, the larvæ and pupæ are again fully exposed to it for a short season as before, and are then carefully returned one by one, through the almost interminable passages, each into the identical chamber from which in the morning it was originally brought; and now the time of feeding has arrived, and this duty has to be carefully performed.

But it is not only to the sunning and feeding of the larvæ that the care of the labourers in their behalf extends. It is an addition of duty to keep the larvæ clean, and perfectly free from all impurities; and it is an almost incessant

occupation to lick them over and over, cleansing every part of the body, and keeping it in a state of the most perfect whiteness. This care commences with the extrusion of the larva from the egg, and ceases not until it is about to assume the ensuing state of pupa or nymph.

As soon as the insect is sufficiently mature to issue from the cocoon into which we have before traced it, the assistance of the labourers is again required. The pupa of ants, unlike those of other insects, know not how to escape from their self-wrought shroud, by moistening its texture and cutting it with their mandibles. They scarcely possess sufficient strength to enable them to move. The cocoon in which they are enclosed is of too compact a texture, and of too strong a material, for the unassisted prisoner to tear it open. How the indefatigable assistants ascertain the exact period when it requires to be liberated, remains, and ever must remain, a profound secret. They may be observed mounting on a cocoon when its occupant has arrived at maturity; they may be seen scraping away the silken texture, and, having inserted their mandibles into the aperture, using them as we use a pair of scissors, cutting across the cocoon in a direct line.

At the period of emancipating the winged ants a great deal of excitement prevails in the nest. Some of the labourers may be seen arduously at work, in the operation of cutting open a cocoon, while others with great gentleness are drawing through the aperture the newly-born mother of a future colony. The labour of these assiduous attendants does not end here; for when the perfect ant is at last drawn from its cocoon, it is not in a state to take its flight and provide for itself; on the contrary, it is weak and helpless, and every part of its body and limbs is swathed in a delicate satiny membrane or skin, which has to be carefully removed before it can even stand upon its

feet. This new difficulty the labourers have now to overcome; first, with the utmost gentleness stripping the antennæ and palpi; then the legs, the wings, and lastly the body. The next care is to feed the newly-born insect, for which process it always appears in readiness.

When all the newly-matured ants have thus been emancipated, the labourers carry away the empty cocoons and skins to the furthest part of the exterior of the nest, and sometimes take them to a considerable distance. For some time the new-born ants remain under the careful superintendence of the labourers: they are attended in all their wanderings about the nest, and are made acquainted with all its galleries and chambers: the wings of the males and females, previously folded together, are extended, and this' is always accomplished with such skill and tenderness that these delicate members are never injured by the operation; in fine, these founders of future colonies are in all respects served with unremitting attention until their final departure from the nest.

It need scarcely be observed, that besides the males and females, or winged ants, numerous labourers are continually emerging from the cocoons, and these are in every respect similar to the other labourers which have been taking charge of them; and as soon as their limbs have attained sufficient strength and firmness, they join their nurses in the cares and labours of the community. We have now traced the history of the ants, and seen the care which has been bestowed on them up to the moment of their having obtained wings, and the power of transporting themselves from place to place; let us now observe them under their altered condition. In the autumn we frequently observe one of their hillocks closely covered with a living mass of winged ants, which continue to promenade, as it were, over its entire surface: they mount on every

plant in the vicinity of their nest, and the labourers (for now the entire population of the nest has turned out) accompany them as closely as possible, following them to the extreme tip of every blade of grass, and when at length those possessed of wings spread them in preparation for flight, the labourers will often hold them back, as if loath to trust them alone, or desirous of sharing the perils of their trackless course. If the temperature is unfavourable, either from cold or wet, at the period of the grand autumnal production of winged ants, they remain in the nest for several days, until a favorable change in the weather takes place, when the labourers open all the avenues to the exterior, and the winged multitude passes forth at the portals in glittering and iridescent panoply. When the air is warm and still they rise in thousands, and sailing, or rather floating on the atmosphere, leave for ever the scene of their former existence.

Myriads of these flying ants, attracted by the brilliant surface of water illumined by an autumnal sun, rush into the fatal current and are seen no more: myriads are devoured by birds, and but a small proportion of the immense swarm which left the nest escapes and lives to found new colonies.

Each female, immediately on alighting from her aerial voyage, examines the situation in which chance has placed her, and if she find it adapted to her purpose she turns her head back over her shoulders, and with her sharp mandibles shears off the wings which bore her from the place of her nativity. Strange as this propensity may seem, it is dictated by an unerring instinct, for the object for which wings were given her is now accomplished, and henceforth they would prove an incumbrance, and retard, rather than assist, the performance of her duties. Sometimes a few workers, wandering at this period of excitement far from

E