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THE

AMERICAN SCHOOL LIBRARY.

PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF

THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR THE DIFFUSION
OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.

" Knowledge it like the light of heaven : free, pure, pleasant, exhaustion. It invite* all
to possession : it admits of no pre-emption, no rights exclusive, no monopoly."

"Promote, as objects of primary importance, institu.ioni for the general diffusion of
knotoUdge"— Washington's Fartweli Addrest.

NE W-YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS,

NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET.

1838.

THE AMERICAN SOCIETY

FOR THE DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.

President :

Honourable STKPHUN VAN RKNSSELAER.
Vice-Presidents :

His Excellency Gov.Marcy, Albany.
H >n. Albert Gallatm, New York.
Hon. Reuben H. Walworth, N. Y.
Rt. Rev. Benj. T. Onderdonk, N. Y.

Hon. Franklin Pierce,
Francis Wayland, D.D.,

N. H.
R.I.

Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen, N. .1.
Hon. Samuel L. Southard, N. J.
Hon. Robert C. Greer, Penn.

Hon. Roger B. Taney, Md.

Hon Windham Robertson, Va.
Hon. William C. Rives, Va.

General James Hamilton, 6. C.
Hon. Henry Hitchcock, Ala.

Hon. Alexander Porter, La.

Hon. Felix Grundy, Tenn.

Rt. Rev. Charles P. M'llvaine, Ohio.
His Excellency (»ov. Duncan, 111.
Henry R, Schoolcraft, Esq., Mich,

Board of Directors :

His Ex. Gov. Everett, LL D, Mass.
Hon. Dan. Webster, LL.D., Boston.
James Milnor, D.D., New- York.
His Excellency Gov. Dunlap, Me.
Hon. Ruel Williams, Me.

Hon. Horace Everett, Vt.

Hon. Roger M. Sherman, Conn.
Hon. Horace Binney, LL.D., Penn.
Hon. James Hayard,
Thomas Sewall, M D.,
Hon. William Gaston,
Hon. John M. Berrien,
Hon. Robert J. Walker,
Hon. Thomas J. Lacy,
Hon. Henry Clay, LL.D.,
John C. Young, D.D.,
Hon William Hendricks,
Hon. Lewis F. Linn,

Del.
B.C.

N. C.

Geo.
Miss.

Ark.

Ky.

Ky.

Ind.

Mo.

Alonzo Potter, D D., New- York.
John Knox, D.D.,
Jacob Janeway, D.D.,
Rev. John A. Vaughan,
Rev. Gorham D. Abbott, "

Hon. Benj. F. Butler, LL.D., "
Hon. Samuel T. Armstrong, Mass.
Hon. Samuel Hubbard. LL.D., "
Hon. John Sergeant, Pennsylvania.
N. Y.

Thomas M'Auley, D.D., New- York.

Francis L. Hawks, D.D.,

Thomas Dewitt, D.D.,

Rev. George Potts,

Rev. John Proud fit,

Prof. Benj. Silliman, LL.D., Conn.

Peter G. Stuyvesant, Esq.,

Hugh Maxwell, Esq.,

Charles Butler, Esq.,

Hiram Ketchnn^, Esq.,

James Brown, Esq.,

Frederic A. Tracy, Esq

Eleazer Lord, Esq.,

Thomas Cock, M D.,

John T. Gilchrist, Ksq.,

Samuel W. Setori, Esq.,

Isaac Collins, Esq., Pennsylvania.

Executive Committee;
JAMES BROWN, Esq., New- York, Chairman.

Hon. Samuel Jones,
Hon. Myndert Van Schaick,
Hon. Heman Lincoln,
Bradford Sunaner, Esq.,

N.Y.
Mass.

N.Y.

David Graham, Esq..

Timothy R. Green, Esq.,

George S. Robbins, Esq., "

Cornelius Baker, Esq., N. Y.

John Griscom, LL.D.,

Anthony P. Halsey, Esq., "

Robert Kelly, Esq.,

Isaac S. Loyd, Esq., Pennsylvania.

Thomas J. Wharton, Esq.,

John Torrey, M.D., Med. Coll., N. Y.
Alonzo Potter, D.D., U. Col., "
Wilbur Fisk,D.D.,Wes.Uni., Conn,

Rev. Jacob Abbott,
Rev. Bela B. Edwards.,

Boston.

Rev. Leonard Bacon, New-Haven.

Rev. Calvin E. Stowe,

Ohio.

Charles Butler, Esq., New- York.

Thomas Cock, M.D., New- York.
Lewis C. Beck, N.Y. University, "
William Cooper, Lye. Nat. Hist., <c
John T. Gilchrist, Esq , «

Timothy R. Green, Esq., "

\Tarinus Willett, M.D., *«

William Betts, Esq.,
Henry E. Davies, Esq.,

GORHA.M D. ABBOTT, Secretary.
ANTHONY P. HALSEY, Treasurer.

THE AMERICAN SCHOOL LIBRARY.

* The Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge present to the
country the commencement of their Library for schools, designed to em-
brace, when completed, a few hundred volumes, written and compiled
with special reference to the wants of the youth of our country. It will
include in the range of its subjects works in the various departments of
knowledge most interesting and useful to the great body of the people,
including history, voyages and travels, biography, natural history, the
physical, intellectual, moral, and political sciences, agriculture, manufac-
tures, arts, commerce, the belles letires, and the history and philosophy
of education.

The increasing interest in the subject of school libraries in several of
the States, and the repeated calls upon the Committee for their Library,
have induced them to issue the present selection from existing publica-
tions to meet the immediate wants of our schools, while they go on, as
fast as possible, to complete the plan announced in their published pro-
spectus. They will regard, in the execution of it, the different ages,
tastes, circumstances, and capacities of readers.

The Committee present the following fifty volumes, chiefly standard
•works of permanent interest and value, which have already received ex-
tensively the public approbation in this country and in Europe, as the
commencement of the series, to be extended from time to time, until it
shall comprise a well-selected and comprehensive Library of Useful
Knowledge, worthy of a place in every schoolroom of our country.

It will be the greatest care of the Committee, that the whole be per-
vaded and characterized by a spirit of Christian morality calculated to
refine and elevate the moral character of our nation.

VOYAGES AND TRAVELS
An Historical Account of the Cir-
cumnavigation of the Globe. En-
gravings.

Narrative of Discovery and Adven-
ture in Africa. From the Earliest
Ages to the Present Time. By
Professor Jameson, and James
Wilson and Hugh Murray, Esqra.
Lives and Voyages of Early Navi-
gators. Portraits.

HISTORY.

A View of Ancient and Modern
Egypt. By Rev. M. Russell, LL. I).

Palestine, or the Holy Land. From
the Earliest Period tn the Present
Time. By Kev. M. Uussell, LL.D.

History of Chivalry and the Cru-
sades. By G. P. R. James. En-
gravings.

The History.of Arabia, Ancient and
Modern. By Andrew Crichton.
2 vols. Engravings, &c.

The Chinese. A general Description
of the Empire of China and its
Inhabitants. By John Francis
Davis, F.R.S. With Engravings.

American History. By the Author
of " American Popular Lessons."
With Engravings. 3 vols.

American Revolution. By B. B
Thatcher, Esq.

History of New- York. By William
Dunlap.

History of Virginia. By Uucle
Philip.

BIOGRAPHY.
A Life of Washington. By J. K.

Paulding, Esq. In 2 vols. With

Engravings.
The Life of Napoleon Bonaparte.

By J. G. Lockhart, Esq. In 2 vote.

With Portraits.
The Life and Actions of Alexander

the Great. By the Rev. J. Wil-
liams. With a Map.
Memoir of the Life of Peter the

Great. By John Barrow, Esq.

Portrait.

The Life of Oliver Cromwell. By
the Rev. M. Russell, LL.D. ~
vols. Portrait.

Lives of Celebrated Travellers. By
James August us St. John. 3 vols"

Memoirs of Celebrated Female Sov-
ereigns. By Mrs. Jameson. 2 vols.

NATURAL HISTORY.

A Popular Guide to .the Observation
of Nature ; or, Hints of Induce-
ment to the Study of Natural Pro-
ductions and Appearances, in their
Connexions and Relations. By
Robert Mudie. Engravings.

The Swiss Family Robinson ; or.
Adventures of a Father and Mo-
ther and Four Sons on a Desert
Island. 2 vols. With Engravings.

The American Forest ; or, Uncle
Philip's Conversations with the
Children about the Trees of Amer-
ica. With numerous Engravings.

The Natural History of Insects. In
2 vols. With Engravings.

Natural History ; or, Tools and
Trades among Inferior Animals.
By Uncle Philip.

PHYSICAL SCIENCE.

The Principles of Physiology, ap-
plied to the Preservation of Health,
and to the Improvement of Physi-
cal and Mental Education. By
Andrew Combe, M.D.

Letters of Euler on Different Sub-
jects of Natural Philosophy. Ad-
dressed to a German Princess.

Translated by Hunter. With
Notes, and a Life of Euler, by Sir
David Brewster; and Additional
Notes, by John Griscom, LL.D*.
With a Glossary of Scientific
Terms, and Engravings.

INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE.

Inquiries concerning the Intellectual

Powers, and the Investigation of

Truth. By John Abercrombie,

M.D.,F.R.S. With Questions.

BELLES LETTRES.

Lectures on General Literature,
Poetry, &c. By Jas. Montgomery.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Indian Traits; being Sketches of
the Manners, Customs, and Char-
acter of the North American Na-
tives. By B. B. Thatcher, Esq.
2 vols. With Engravings.

Perils of the Sea ; being Authentic
Narratives of Remarkable and Af-
fecting Disasters upon the Deep.
With Engravings.

The Poor Rich Man and the Rich
Poor Man. By Miss C. M. Sedg-
wick.

The Ornaments Discovered. By
Mary Hughs.

The Son of a Genius. By Mrs.
Hofland.

The Whale-fishery and the Polar
Seas. By Uncle Philip.

At a regular meeting of the Executive Committee, it was unanimously
Resolved, That the above-named fifty volumes be approved and adopted
as the commencement of" The American School Library," and that the
same be earnestly recommended to public patronage.

In behalf of the Committee,

JAMES BftowN, Chairman, J. T. GILCHRIST, Secretary.

A P. HALSKY, JOHN TORREY,

THOMAS COCK, CHARLES BUTLER.

At a general meeting of the Society, held on the 10th of May, 1838, at
the Stuyvesant Institute, Broadway, his Excellency Governor MARCY in
the chair, ANTHONY P. HAI.SKV, Secretary, it was unanimously

Resolved, That we recommend the immediate introduction of a suitable
Library of Useful Knowledge in every schoolroom in our State : and that
we invite the attention of teachers, of school committees, and of every
friend of education and of the universal diffusion of knowledge in this and
in oth^r States, to " The American School Library," now commenced by
this Society. A. P. HALSKY, Secretary.

GORHAM D. ABBOTT, Sec'y A. S. D. U. K.

Harper's Stereotype Edition.

THE

,NATURAL HISTORY

OF

INSECTS.

ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.

FIRST SERIES.

NEW-YORK:

PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS,
NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET.

1837.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.— THE HIVE BEE.

Page
0UEEN BEE— Her Treatment by her Subjects 25

CHAPTER II.— THE HIVE BEE.

Mode of Communication among Bees— Antipathy between rival
Queens -Their Combats— Helplessness when mutilated— Senses
of Bees— Manner of discovering Bees' Nests practised by Ameri-
can Honey-hunters 37

CHAPTER III.— THE HIVE BEE.

Interior Arrangements of a Bee-hive — Structure of a Comb — Form
of the Cells— Worker- Bees— Collection of Honey— Elaboration
of Wax— Bee-bread— Cleanliness of Bees 40

CHAPTER IV.— THE HIVE BEE.

Fertility of Queen Bee — Swarming — Ventilation of the Hive —
Irascibility— Duels— Robberies— Defences of Bees 69

CHAPTER V.— THE HUMBLE BEE.

Builds her own Habitation— Curious Division of Labour— Remark-
able for Good-nature and Affection for her Young— Ingenuity in
overcoming Difficulties— The Carpenter-Bee— The Mason-Bee—
—The Upholsterer-Bee 83

CHAPTER VI.— THE COMMON WASP.

The Nest— Construction and Materials— Form of the Combs-
Affection for its Young— Manner of feeding them— Solitary
Wasps— Hornets 100

Xll CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VII. -ANTS,

Page

Their Industry— Affection for their Young— Courage— Their Anger
—Unite in Myriads for War and Extermination— The Fallow
Ants— The Sanguine Ants— Tlte Legionary Ants—Attack other
Ants, and reduce them to Slavery 118

CHAPTER Vm.— TERMITES, OR WHITE ANTS.

Their Destructiveness— Clear the Ground of all dead vegetable
Matter — Societies composed of four sorts of Individuals — Eaten
as Food by the Indians— Appear in countless Myriads at the end
of the Rainy Season — Prodigious Fertility of the Queen — Size,
Form, and interior Arrangements of their Hills— Marching Ants 145*

CHAPTER IX.— PARASITICAL INSECTS.

Gall Insect — Cochineal Insect — The Scarlet Colour used in Dyeing 161
CHAPTER X.— APHIS, OR PLANT-LOUSE.

JEvery Tree, every part of a Tree, has its peculiar Species — Suck
vegetable Juices— Shelter themselves from bad Weather in the
concave parts of Leaves 176

CHAPTER XL

Gnat— Bug— Flea— Chigoe— Louse— Mites and Ticks— Gad-fly. ... 190
CHAPTER XII.

Ichneumon-Fly— Its Eggs deposited in the Bodies of other Living
Insects — Deposites thirty or forty in the Body of a Caterpillar—
Dragon-Fly— Its Voracity— Ferocity 208

CHAPTER XIII.— THE ANT-LION.

Forms a funnel-shaped Excavation in the Sand — Uses its Leg like
a Shovel to remove the Sand — Secures its Prey by Stratagem —
Its Ingenuity and Perseverance in getting rid of Impediments-
Spins a Cocoon, and is Transformed into a Beautiful Fly— The
LION- WORM 21

CHAPTER XIV.— THE SPIDER.

Its Spinning Apparatus— Its Web— The Hawk-Spider— The Gar
den-Spider— The Water-Spider— The Hunting-Spider— Gossa-
mer-Spider—Fen-Spider— Attachment of the Spider to its Young 228

CONTENTS Xlii

CHAPTER XV.— CATERPILLARS.

Page

Their Singular Habits— The Grub of the domestic Moth— Fabri-
cates a Mantle— Habits of the Field-Moth— Caddis- Worm 250

CHAPTER XVI.— SOCIAL CATERPILLARS.

Move in regular Files— Form Nests lined with Silk— The " Froces-
sionary" — The Leaf-rolling— The Leaf-bending — Leaf-mining
Caterpillar 266

CHAPTER XVII.— CHRYSALIS, OR AURELIA.

Caterpillar, when about to Change into a Chrysalis, fastens itself to
a Leaf or Stem— Spins a little Web— Gets rid of its old Case-
Suspends itself by a Girth or Belt formed of Silk 289

I.-B

INTRODUCTION.

ALL that is cognizable to sense is reducible to two
classes of existences — the one passive, inert, and
governed by the general laws of nature ; the other
active, combating and modifying these laws. The
first class comprehends inorganic or inanimate ex-
istence ; the second, animate or organic existence.
Animate beings are composed of organs which,
though varying in number, figure, and function, in
the infinite varieties of living creatures, may, ne-
vertheless, be classed under two heads : 1st. Or-
gans destined to preserve the individual. 2d.
Organs appropriated to the perpetuation of the
species. To the first class belong the organs of
nutrition, locomotion, and sensation ; to the second,
the organs of generation. A scale or gradation of
animated beings may therefore be established, on
the ground of their possessing more or fewer of
these organs.

The simplest animal with which we are ac-
quainted is to be found in water either in a stagnant
state or impregnated with decayed vegetable mat-
ter : it is of microscopic minuteness, a single
living point, without any organ whatever, and called
Monas. A drop of putrid water contains myriads
#£ these in motion. One degree higher in the

XVI INTRODUCTION.

scale of existence are the Polypi — creatures pos-
sessing the form of a vegetable, with the consist-
ence of a jelly. Their internal organization con-
sists only of a sac, the first indication of a sto-
mach. They have no head, nor organs of sense,
muscles, nor vessels. Like plants, they perpe-
tuate their species by buds. They live in water.

The next class of animals, also aquatic, are of
a star-like form. Besides the mouth and stomach
common to them with the polypi, slight indications
of a nervous and respiratory system are discover-
able in their organization. None of their move-
ments seem connected with muscular action, though
their substance in many instances is capable of
contraction and dilatation. They are multiplied,
not only by buds or gemmae, but also by eggs,
where the new individual, separating from the pa-
rent, is thrown off by the mouth : they live in the
ocean.

Worms have the organs of locomotion more
fully developed, the body of the animal being
divided into rings, — a faint approach to the ar-
ticulation of the limbs in more perfect creatures.
The long intestinal canal is widened at one part, so
as to give a notion of the division into stomach and
intestine. They possess a circulatory system of
vein and artery, but no heart. Their respiratory
organs are of the simplest kind. They are fur-
nished with a long nervous cord, running from one
extremity of the body to the other, in the course
of which nodules of nervous matter are placed,
from which little nerves are radiated to the neigh-

INTRODUCTION. XVU

bouring parts. The sexes are in some united in
the same individual, in others separate. They
multiply by eggs.

The Molluscs have the organs of digestion and
circulation well developed ; a liver, stomach, in-
testines, a heart with two chambers, arteries and
veins circulating cold blood ; a nodulated nervous
system, organs of touch, rudiments of a tongue,
and something like an organ of hearing, and a
respiratory system. The organs of locomotion
are not much developed.

The Crustacea, or such animals as resemble the
lobster, possess lateral appendages fixed to the
trunk, which assist them to move : their structure
is similar to that of the molluscae ; but they have,
in addition, a more perfect apparatus of the senses.

Ascending in the scale of beings, we next come to

INSECTS.

The English word insect is derived from the
Latin word insectum, which is probably a corrup-
tion or contraction of intersectum, " cut between ;"
and the name as applied to a class of animals, is
doubtlessly suggested by the bodies of these ani-
mals being so made up of distinct parts as to give
the appearance of their being notched or inter-
sected.

Insects have organs of nutrition, locomotion,
generation, and sensation. Their organization is
defective principally in the circulating and respi-
ratory systems. They inhabit the earth, the air,
or the water, and move with rapidity in all situa-
B2

XV111 INTRODUCTION.

tions. They possess the five senses, and are en-
dowed with wonderful instincts. The organs of
nutrition and generation are as perfect as those of
more elevated orders.

Insects have been called hexapodes, from their
having six feet. Their body is for the most part
composed of various joinings or articulations.
These joinings are comprehended in the head, tho-
rax or chest, abdomen or belly.

The head has a moveable junction or articula-
tion with the second division or thorax, in the
greater number of insects. The mouth, antennae,
and eyes are parts of the head.

Mouth. — All insects either divide their food or
suck it. In all, therefore, the mouth is modelled
to answer one or other of these purposes.

In those which divide their food, the parts of
the mouth are, an upper lip, and an under lip fixed
to a piece called the chin ; between these two there
are four lateral pieces, two on each side ; the two
upper are called mandibles, the two lower maxillae
or jaws. To the two lower are attached one or more
moveable adjuncts called palpi. The under lip
has also two appendices, called labial palpi.

With the palpi the insect seems to judge of the
quality of its food ; which it touches and examines
with these organs. The mandibles or upper jaws
cut the food. The lower jaws or maxillae divide
and masticate it. The motion of these parts is
horizontal and not vertical, as with us : the upper
and under lips move forwards, backwards, and verti-

INTRODUCTION. XIX

cally, and their office appears to be to prevent the
egress of the food.

The mouth of those insects which suck is elon-
gated into a beak or tongue, or proboscis.

This is a tube attached to the head of the insect.
In some, the bee for instance, it is composed of two
pieces connected by a joint, for if it were constantly
extended, it would be too much exposed to acci-
dental injuries : therefore, in its indolent state, it
is doubled up by means of the joint ; and in that
position lies secure under a scaly pent-house. In
many species of the butterfly, the proboscis, when
not in use, is coiled up like a watch spring. In
some insects, the proboscis, or tongue, or trunk, is
shut up in a sharp-pointed sheath ; which sheath
being of a much firmer texture than the proboscis
itself, as well as sharpened at the point, pierces the
substance which contains the food, and then opens
within the wound to allow the enclosed tube, through
which the juice is extracted, to perform its office,

Antenna. — Almost all insects have two of these
organs. Their functions are not distinctly known :
in some insects they are organs of sense, in others
they exist, but are so imperfect as to raise doubts as
to their utility ; nature, however, often repeats the
shape of a part without repeat.ing its function;
thus the mammae are allotted to males as well as
females : hence the non-existence of the function
in some animals cannot be taken as a positive
ground for denying the existence of that function
b similar organs in other animals.

XX INTRODUCTION.

s. —These organs are constantly found in trie
Jhead of insects. Their usual number is two,
placed laterally ; their surface is cut into so many
facets that Leeuwenhoek has counted seventeen
thousand two hundred and thirty-five in the cornea
,of a butterfly ; each facet may be considered as a
crystalline lens, concave within and convex without :
they have no lids. In some orders of insects, be-
sides these two lateral eyes, there are, for the most
part, three others placed between the antennge ;
their surface is smooth, they are called stemmata,
their use is unknown, although it is supposed they
assist in vision, since the eyes of spiders are nearly
of the same form, and in them these are the sole
organs of that faculty.

The Thorax. — The next division of the body
of the insect, placed immediately behind the head,
is the thorax ; this supports the members, namely
the wings and legs. The wings are composed of
two membranes, an upper one, in which nervures
or cords are traced ; a lower one, separable from
the upper. These nervures or cords contain a spi-
ral vessel ; " whence they appear," says Kirby, " to
be air vessels communicating with the trachea in
the trunk. The expansion of the wing at the
will of the insect is a problem .that can only be
solved, by supposing that a subtle fluid is intro-
duced into these vessels, which seems perfectly
analogous to those in the wings of birds ; and that
thus an impulse is communicated to eveiy part of
fthe organ sufficient to keep it in proper tension:

INTRODUCTION. XXI

we see by this, that a wing is supported in its
flight like a sail by its cordage."

The Abdomen. — This is the third division of
the insect ; it is composed of riigs, which vary in
number from one to fifteen : most of these rings
have an open pore placed laterally ; these are the
breathing holes through which the fluids of the
animal become aerated ; they are termed stigmata.
In some, the last ring contains the anus, or vent,
and the organs of generation ; in some, it includes
either the means of defence of the insect, such as
a sting, or instruments which are subservient to its
instincts, as saws, ovipositors, pincers, &c.

The Organs of Digestion. — These consist of a
gullet, one or more stomachs, and an intestinal
canal, into which numerous fine vessels secrete a
fluid analogous to saliva and to bile.

In the higher animals, the steps by which the
raw food is assimilated to the body can be made
out. We know that the secretions result from
glands and minute arteries, and that absorbents take
up that which is prepared in the great reservoirs of
life, the stomach and intestines, to pour it into the
veins, and thence into the heart. The circle is
clearly traceable by reasoning and by sense ; but
insects have no true circulating nor absorbent sys-
tem ; and yet they secrete fluids which not only
serve for digestion, but for defence. The ant dis-
gorges an acid ; the bee elaborates a poison ; the
glow-worm an unctuous fluid, which, becoming

XX11 INTRODUCTION.

luminous, attracts the male. What then are the
instruments by which food is assimilated in the
insect ? Cuvier supposes that it is taken up by the
pores of the bo<Jy as water by a sponge, by imbi-
bition.

The muscles of insects are disposed in bundles,
the fibres of which are not connected together by a
cellular membrane ; they are fixed to the hard
parts, which are to be moved by horny tendons.
The body of the insect being symmetrical, the
arrangement of muscles is simple. The segments
of the abdomen have similar muscles, and one side
corresponds to the other.

The thorax contains the muscles which move
the head up or down ; those which move the wings
and the feet, and some others of which the uses
are only guessed at. The muscles of a species
of caterpillar, the cossus ligniperda, have been
reckoned, by Lyonnet, to amount to four thousand
— this makes them nine times more than those of
man. The prodigious power of some of these
living atoms is scarcely imaginable. The flea,
called by the Arabians "the father of leapers,"
and the locust, jump two hundred times their own
length. Supposing the same relative force to be
infused into the body of a man six feet high, he
would be enabled to leap three times the height of
St. Paul's. Insects walk, run, leap, fly, glide, and
swim ; thus combining all the movements of all
animated beings.

All insects have a knotted nervous system. The
knot nearest the head is composed of two lobes.

INTRODUCTION. XXUl

from which nerves pass to the eyes, the antennae,
and the mouth.

The situation of the organs of smell and hearing
has not been determined ; that they possess this
sense is a matter of inference from the various
facts offered in the study of their habits.

The most remarkable circumstance in the history
of insects is their metamorphosis. The changes
which they undergo fixed the attention of the
earliest observers : they exist in four progressive
forms : — 1. The egg ; 2. Larva, grub, worm, or
caterpillar ; 3. Chrysalis, aurelia, nymph, or pupa ;
4. Imago, or perfect state.

The eggs vary in colour, shape, consistence,
and the covering with which many are clothed.
Some insects deposite them in places where the
natural food of the tribe is most abundant ; and
without ever having seen their parent, the instincts
of the young teach them to act as they had been
acted by ; others protect the egg till the larva is
produced. In the flesh-fly the first stage of the
metamorphosis passes within the body of the
parent, and the larva, or worm, is brought forth
alive. In some insects the parent retains the young
within the body, some time after it has been evolved
from the egg, and then gives birth to the pupa.
Other insects produce their young in a perfect
state, so as to require no farther changes.

In the larva state the insect appears to attain its
greatest weight. In this it moults, or changes its
skins several times, and the same colours are not

XXIV INTRODUCTION.

always reproduced : in this state the insect is inca-
pable of producing its kind.

In the state of pupa, nymph, or chrysalis, the
insect is ordinarily incapable of taking food, and
contains within itself a sketch of its ultimate form.

Naturalists have described various states of
metamorphosis ; all these, however, may be reduced
to two : 1. Partial metamorphosis, in which the
insect does not vary in its form in such a way as
not to be recognised in all its states as the same
individual. 2. Complete metamorphosis ; in which
the pupae take no food, are incapable of motion,
and the change is such, that nothing but the evi-
dence of sense could convince us of the identity of
the insect in its first and its last state.

INSECTS,

CHAPTER I.

THE HIVE BEE.
Queen Bee— Her Treatment 6y her Subjects.

THE scene presented by the interior of a bee-hive
has seldom failed to interest even the most incurious
observer, while it fills with astonishment the mind
of the enlightened and profound philosopher. When
the day is fine and the sun shining brightly, the ha-
bitation of these marvellous little creatures exhi-
bits the aspect of a populous and busy city. The
gates are crowded with hundreds of industrious
workers — some on the wing in search of suste-
nance ; others returning from the fields laden with
food — some earnestly engaged in building — some
in tending the young — others employed in cleansing
their habitation — while four or five may be seen
dragging out the corpse of a companion, and, as it
would appear, scrupulously paying the last honours
to the dead. At one moment the entrances of the
little city are comparatively free ; at another,
crowds of its inhabitants may be seen struggling at
the gates, making the best of their way to escape
from the rain, which, by some peculiar sensation,
they have discovered to be at hand. It can there-
fore excite no wonder that the habits of these in-
teresting insects should have attracted the attention
of some of the best observers of ancient uud of
C

26

NATURAL HISTORY.

[CH. I.

modern times. History does not inform us who
first drew these creatures from the wilderness, and
rendered their industry subservient to the purposes
of man — purposes for which the cultivation of the
sugar-cane now partially provides. According to
Cicero and Pliny, the philosopher Hyliscus quitted
human society, and retired to the desert in order to
contemplate the more peaceful industry of the bee.
The thousand moral qualities which have been
gravely attributed to them will probably excite a
smile. They who wished to observe their habits
and proceedings, were admonished first to examine
their consciences — for it is said that these beings
could not endure the presence of the adulterer, and
gave no quarter to the thief. But putting aside fa-
bles, emanating from the imagination of the an-
cients, the real history of the bee is abundantly in-
teresting.

T

A community or swarm of bees consists, first, of
workers (fig. 2) ; these are of no sex ; amount ge-
nerally to many thousands in number, and are easily

CH. I.] THE HIVE BEE. 27

recognised by their industry, and by the smallness
of their size : 2dly, of males (fig. 3) ; of which se-
veral hundreds belong to each community ; these
are larger than the working bee, and live idly : over
all presides a queen, the most important member
of the whole of this little commonwealth (fig. 1).
A person may keep hives for years, and never see
this insect, about which more extraordinary things
have been seen and written, than the reader would
be disposed to believe. Aristotle and the more an-
cient naturalists have given very marvellous ac-
counts of the perfect despotism and strict discipline
established among these insects, as well as of the
consummate wisdom with which every thing is
ordered for the common good.

Reaumur and Huber have fully determined the
influence which the presence of the queen has upon
her subjects. The former divided a swarm, and
placed them in two glass hives, one of which,
therefore, had a queen ; the other being without
one. The account which he gives of the conduct
of these two sets of insects is too curious to be
omitted.

" After the tumult, excited by their removal into
a little glass hive, was calmed, and I had looked
at it for ten minutes, for the first time of my life, I
succeeded in seeing a queen bee, which was walking
at the bottom of the case. I was recompensed in
this instance, for my disappointments in the various
attempts that I had previously made — for now I
could view her as often as I wished. Indeed, I had
it in my power to point her out to a large party
who were at my house, not one of whom but
evinced the greatest curiosity to see this renowned
sovereign.

" For the first few minutes, in which I followed
her with my eyes, I was tempted to believe that the
stories of the respect paid her by the other bees,
the train by which she was attended, were imagi-

28 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. I.

nary fables rather than real facts. She was alone,
and walking perhaps at a slower pace than the rest.
The friends who were with me were pleased to dis-
cover in her gait something of gravity and majesty.
She advanced, unattended, to one of the sqviares of
the hive, up which she mounted to join a group of
her subjects perched at the top. In a little time
she reappeared at the bottom, but still sadly ne-
glected. She ascended a second time, and I lost
sight of her for a few instants — she then appeared
for the third time at the bottom of the hi\;e. Now,
however, twelve or fifteen bees were ranged around
her, and seemed to form her train. In the first
moments of trouble and confusion we think only
of ourselves. If we were in a large saloon, and
it had suddenly broken down, in the confusion we
should forget that others dearer than ourselves
\vere in the room. Thus it was with these bees,
for being huddled into the little glass hive, turned
topsy-turvy, the first impulse of each seemed self-
preservation, and it was only when they had reco-
vered their composure, that they began to recollect
the mother which in their fright they had forgotten
and neglected.

" In spite of my inclination to believe that the first
train which I had perceived was the effect of chance
— in spite of my disposition to think that a big bee
would be followed precisely because it was big — 1
was forced to acknowledge that there was some
other foundation for the homage, the cares, and at-
tentions which the rest paid to her who was des-
tined to be the mother of a numerous progeny. The
queen, with her little suite, disappeared for a mo-
ment among a cluster of bees. In a short time she
reappeared at the bottom of the hive, when a dozen
others hastened to join the train. A row flanked
her on each side as she walked, others met her be-
fore, and made way as she advanced ; and, in a very
short time, she was surrounded by a circle of up-

CH. I.] THE HIVE BEE. 29

wards of thirty bees. Some of these, approaching
nearer than others, licked her with their trunks0;
others extended this organ filled witli honey for her
to sip : sometimes I saw her stop to partake of the
food ; at other times she sucked while in motion.

"For several hours, consecutively, I observed
this insect, and always saw her surrounded by bees
who appeared anxious to render her good offices."

The farther detail of the " History of the Divided
Swarm" is equally instructive. It should be ob-
served, that the little glass hive in which was placed
the mother, or queen, contained only about a fifth
part of the original swarm, which had been divided
on a Saturday. On the Sunday, the bees seemed
discouraged, went out into the fields, and came back,
bringing with them very little material. On the
Monday, they laboured rather more assiduously, as,
in six hours, they had formed a little comb contain-
ing sixteen or eighteen cells ; but at two o'clock of
the same day they quitted the hive. Reaumur,
however, once more enclosed them in it. On the
Tuesday, they remained profoundly still; and al-
though the sun was warm, and the time of the day
(about eleven) that at which the hive presents the
busiest scene, they were resting in groups. All this
seemed to prove that they were not content with
their lodging. They had a queen, and the materials
for building, and yet not a cell was constructed. In
a few moments, while Reaumur was pondering on
the motives of these insects, or rather on the ob-
stacles which contravened their instincts — the queen
was seen on the floor of the hive ; a dozen common
bees instantly came buzzing around her, the hum
increased, and the whole hive appeared shortly in a
state of great agitation. Little divisions were
formed, one or two workers going out, were fol-
lowed by the queen, and then the whole left the
glass hive for the second time.

According to their usual custom, they flew round
C2

30 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. I

and round in circles, and at last settled in a solid
mass on one of the branches of a neighbouring
tree. As soon as Reaumur saw this, he ran to dis-
cover the queen, and found her, not in this mass,
but quietly seated on a leaf, and at a little distance
from it, " apparently," says he, " as if aware that it
would be inconvenient to bear the whole weight of
her subjects." It would seem that she had but to
indicate the spot near which the bees were to settle,
by hovering round it, in order to bring them thither.
As soon as the cluster which had settled on the
branch had become of considerable size, she quitted
the leaf on which she had settled, and joined them.
This was sufficient to attract the others, which were
stiil circling about in the air, and she was soon co-
vered and concealed by them.

*' These bees," says Reaumur, " seemed to have
good reasons for quitting the hive. Instinct, no
doubt, taught them that their present habitation was
too small to accommodate the numerous progeny of
the queen, and afford room for the necessary cells."

Thinking that the disproportion between the num-
ber of the bees and the size of the hive might have
been the cause of their disgust, Reaumur this time
contrived to enclose only four or five hundred along
with the queen. But this step proved unfortunate.
The little colony remained in the greatest agitation,
and altogether neglected the queen, who wandered
up and down quite unattended and in the most deso-
late condition. The rest, however, who had not
been enclosed with the queen, did not imitate the
example of her fellow-captives, but soon found her
out ; and, not being able to obtain admission, covered
the hive in a mass. Having got rid of these, he
was desirous of trying whether those bees which,
three days before, on the original division of the
swarm, had been separated from the queen, would
recognise her after this lapse of time. Having
placed the little glass hive near the box in which

CH. I.J THE HIVE BEE. 31

these had been enclosed, in less than a quarter of an
hour they seemed to have discovered that a queen
was in captivity, and scarcely a single bee remained
in the box, but all came and covered the glass hive.
At first Reaumur attributed this effect to the attrac-
tion of the constant noise kept up by the agitation
of the bees within the glass hive ; but when this
hive was placed, under the same circumstances,
near another which possessed a queen, very few of
the workers of the latter hive seemed disposed to
quit their own habitation and sovereign in order to
attend the stranger, however hard her lot. It would
appear, then, that the bees who were without a
queen knew where there was one ; but those who
possessed one paid no regard to another. Having
kept the queen and her five hundred subjects pri-
soners, Reaumur opened the entrances of the glass
hive ; upon which most of them went into the fields,
but returned, bringing with them some of the other
bees which had been excluded when the five hun-
dred were enclosed with the queen. How these
creatures had found out their queen excited Reau-
mur's wonder. Observing his glass hive becoming
too full, he contrived to make the mass of supernu-
meraries join another set.

On the Wednesday, however, the bees left the
glass hive for the third time, but after a short space
returned ; which encouraged him to hope that they
would permanently adhere to it. The next day the
workers laboured in good earnest, brought home
good loads of materials on their thighs, and con-
structed cells. But the situation of the hive being
too hot, they quitted it for the fourth time, fled to a
large hive in the neighbourhood, and were massacred
by its inhabitants.

Such was the end of this division of the original
swarm. That of the other was not less tragical.
It has been already observed, that when Reaumm

32 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. I.

divided the swarm, the largest portion was without
a queen — these he placed in a flat and commodious
habitation, giving them the means of free egress and
ingress. The number of those who went into the
fields was very limited, and these returned unladen
with any of the fruits of their labour.

Although the days were fine, the number of the
workers very great, the hive such as they liked, for
they evinced no symptom of a wish to quit it, still
not a cell was made, while, during the same space
of time, the bees of the little glass hive, although
they had but a slender portion of labourers, con-
trived to make two little combs. Thus it would ap-
pear that all their instincts hinge on the love of
offspring. Those bees which possessed a queen,
capable of giving birth to thousands of young, pre-
pared cells for their dwelling, and honey for their
food ; and this they effected under every disadvan-
tage. Those, on the contrary, which were without
a mother-bee, and, therefore, without the hope of a
numerous progeny, were content to live from day to
day. They went into the fields for their repast, but
did not bring back materials which would construct
a single cell. It seemed as if they were content
with feeding themselves, and had lost all motive to
lay up a store of provisions for future purposes. In
a word, it was evident that it was not for themselves
that they gathered or laboured.

Wishing to stimulate them to exertion, Reaumur
gave them another hive, but they were as tranquil
in their new as they had been in their old habitation.

Their number daily diminished, so that at the end
of three weeks scarcely a thousand remained, and
the whole of these were one morning found dead at
the bottom of the hive.

This was not a solitary experiment. Reaumur
and others have repeated it too often to require far-
ther proof — that the loss of the mother-bee destroys

CH. I.J THE HIVE BEE. 33

all motive to exertion, so that she may truly be
called the soul of the hive.

" We are only sure of one principle of action,"
says Reaumur, " among- bees — the love for their
queen, or rather the numerous posterity to which
she is to give birth. Each bee seems to be actuated
either by a sensation which has in view the welfare
of all, or by the love of posterity. Whether they
construct cells or most carefully polish them, or la-
bour to gather a harvest of honey, it is never directly
for themselves. This may appear somewhat para-
doxical to those who have remarked that, at the end
of winter, the bees consume the honey they had stored
up in spring and summer. But the experiments j list
detailed show, that the moment they lose the hope
of a numerous progeny, they cease to gather the
food which is necessary for their own preservation ;
life seems to them of no value when unsupported
by this hope, and so they choose to die. The love
of offspring appears, therefore, to be the all-moving
principle." Swammerdam was of this opinion; and
all who study the habits of the bee attentively must
coincide with him.

From what has been detailed, little doubt can be
entertained that, be the moving spring what it may,
the conduct of bees to the mother is tender, true,
and full of devotion. To ascertain whether this
feeling of attachment and devotion was confined to
the particular queen which gave them birth, Reau-
mur made an experiment.

He shut up a queen taken from one hive, with some
workers taken from another, so that both were
strangers to each other. " I was curious," he says,
" to note how she would be received, and I saw she
was received like ' a queen.' Bees to the number
of a dozen or more surrounded her, and treated her
with great honour. It happened that the box in
which she had been enclosed was filled with dust,
in consequence of which, when introduced among the

34 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. I.

workers, she was literally gray with that which stuck
about her. The first care of the bees was to unpow-
der and clean their future sovereign. For more than
two hours she remained at the bottom of the hive,
surrounded and sometimes covered by them, while
they licked her on all sides. It seemed as if they
were anxious to warm her, and in truth she re-
quired it, as she was benumbed by the coldness of
the night, and had only been revived by me in the
morning with artificial heat. I could not help ad-
miring the anxiety and assiduity of their attentions.
They relieved each other in the task of cleaning her.
They removed her to another spot more than an inch
distant; some were upon, some under her. For
more than two hours I witnessed this interesting
scene."

For a day or two, Reaumur kept them close pri-
soners ; but subsequently placed them near the very
spot from which they had been taken, and gave them
the liberty of egress. He found, however, that,
though they went out, they returned to their new
habitation and new queen, and constructed cells for
her accommodation.

This fact removed Reaumur's doubt. These bees
had been taken from a populous hive well stored,
and ye" t they completely forgot their old companions
and their birth-place, put up with all the inconve-
niences of a small hive, and undertook to labour for
a stranger.

But although thus prodigal of their affections to
any mother, still a certain number of hours must
elapse before they will adopt a stranger ; and then the
lives of a thousand of their fellow-labourers are no-
thing to them in comparison with that of the elected
queen.

Reaumur found a queen and some workers appa-
parently dead from cold. Some of the latter he had
resuscitated, so that, though feeble, yet they could
walk. The others with the queen were still motion-

CH. I.J THE HIVE BEE. 35

less. Putting them all into a box, he gradually
warmed it in the hope of reviving the whole.

As soon as some of the workers came to life, they
ranged themselves round the dead mother as if com-
passionating her situation. With their trunks they
licked her breast, head, and body, but took not the
slightest notice of the other bees, although as dead
as this sole object of their care.

Reaumur watched with anxiety for the signs of
returning life in the queen. "At first," says he,
" one limb quivered, and after a short interval, the
motion was reiterated. No sooner was this evidence
of life given, than a humming was instantly heard
in the box where previously all had been silence.
Many persons who were with me, and who watched
the revival of the queen, were struck with the sound
as being more acute than usual, and all named it the
song of rejoicing."*

It appears, however, that the workers do not at all
times pay the same attention to their queen ; while
she continues in a state of infecundity, she seems
for the most part an object of indifference to them ;
but as soon as this event has taken place, she is
treated with the honour due to the future mother of
a populous colon)'.

" I have," says Huber, " seen workers bestow
every attention on a queen, though sterile ; and after
her (death treat the dead body as they had treated
herself when alive, and long prefer it, though inani-
mate, to the most prolific queens I offered them."

* When Schirach had once smoked a hive to oblige the bees to retire
to the top of it, the queen with some of the rest flew away. Upon this,
those that remained in the hive sent forth a most plaintive sound, as if
they were deploring their loss : when their sovereign was restored, their
lugubrious sounds were succeeded by a a agreeable humming, which
announced their joy at the event. Htibersays, that once when all the
worker brood was removed from the hive, and only male brood left, the
bees appeared in a state of extreme despondency. Assembled in clusters
on the combs, they lost all their activity. The queen dropped her eggs
at random, and instead of the usual active hum, a dead silence reigned
in the hive.

36 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. I.

It would perhaps be incorrect to ascribe this con-
duct to motives similar to those which influence hu-
man agents. And yet it is difficult, if not impossi-
ble, to resist the impression, that although not exactly
similar, they are at least analogous. These humble
creatures cherish their queen, feed her, and provide
for her wants. They live only in her life, and die
when she is taken away. Her absence deprives
them of no organ, paralyzes no limb, yet in every
case they neglect all their duties for twenty-four
hours. They receive no stranger queen before the ex-
piration of that time ; and if deprived of the cherished
object altogether, they refuse food, and quickly pe-
rish. What, it may be asked, is the physical cause
of such devotion I What are the bonds that chain
the little creature to its cell, and force it to prefer
death, to the flowers and the sunshine that invite it
to come forth and live ? This is not a solitary in-
stance in which the Almighty has made virtues ap-
parently almost unattainable by us, natural to ani-
mals ! For while man has marked, with that praise
which great and rare good actions merit, those few
instances in which one human being has given up
his own life for another — the dog, who daily sacri-
fices himself for his master, has scarcely found an
historian to record his common virtue.

CH. TI.*| THE HIVE BEE 37

CHAPTER II.

THE HIVE BEE.

Mode of Communication among Bees— Antipathy between rival Queens
— Their Combats — Helplessness when mutilated — Senses of Bees —
Manner of discovering Bees' Nests practised by American Honey-
hunters.

LIKE every other animal living in society, bees have
a medium of communication. The effects produced
upon them by the loss of their queen will furnish
proof of this fact. In a well-peopled and thriving
hive, each bee is employed in its appropriate avoca-
tion, some in attending the young, some in making
cells. At first, when the queen has been abstracted,
every thing goes on well for about an hour ; after
this space of time, some few of the workers appear
in a state of great agitation ; they forsake the young,
relinquish their labour, and begin to traverse the hive
in a furious manner. In their progress, wherever
they meet a companion, they mutually cross their
antennae,* and the one which seems to have first
discovered the national loss, communicates the sad
news to its neighbour, by giving it a gentle tap with
these organs. This one in its turn becomes agitated,
runs over the cells, crossing and striking others.
Thus in a short time the whole hive is thrown into
confusion, every thing is neglected, and the hum-
ming may be heard at a distance. This agitation
lasts from four to five hours, after which the bees
are calmed, and begin to adopt the measures which
are necessary to repair their loss.

That the agitation of the bees arises from the loss
of the queen scarcely admits of a doubt.

" I cannot doubt," says Huber, " that the agitation

* Feelers.

S8 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. II.

arises from the workers having lost their queen;
for on restoring1 her, tranquillity is instantly re-esta-
blished among them, and, what is very singular, they
recognise her. This expression must be interpreted
literally — for the substitution of another queen is not
attended with the same effect, if she be introduced
into the hive within the first twenty-four hours after
removal of the reigning one. Here the agitation
continues, and the bees treat the stranger just as they
do when the presence of their own queen leaves
them nothing to desire. But if twenty-four hours
have elapsed before substituting the stranger queen,
she will be well received, and reign from the moment
of her introduction into the hive."

Huber introduced a fertile queen, eleven months
old, into a hive which had lost its own twenty-four
hours before. Immediately on placing this female
stranger on the comb, the workers which were near
the spot touched her with their antennae, and pass-
ing their trunks over every part of her body, gave
her honey. Then these gave place to others, which
treated her exactly in the same manner. Vibrating
their wings at once, they all ranged themselves in a
circle around their adopted sovereign ; hence resulted
a kind of agitation, which was gradually communi-
cated to other workers situated on the same surface
of the comb, and induced them to come and recon-
noitre, in their turn, what was going on. These ar-
riving, and breaking through the circle formed by
the foremost ranks, approached the queen, touched
her with their antennae, and gave her honey. After
this little ceremony, they retired, and placing them-
selves behind the others, enlarged the circle, where
they vibrated their wings without tumult or disorder.
When she began to move, they were so far from op-
posing her progress, that they opened the circle at
that part towards which she turned, followed her,
and surrounded her with a guard.

The treatment wru'ch they bestow upon a stranger

CH. II.'I THE HIVE BEE. O

queen, while their own is still in the hive, deserves
to be mentioned. The entrance of their habitation
is carefully guarded, and sentinels are placed, so
that nothing-, not even one of their own companions,
can move either by day or by night, without first
undergoing a strict scrutiny. As soon as a stranger
queen enters the hive, a circle of bees imprison the
intruder so closely, that not only is it impossible for
her to move, but she is often suffocated. One
queen, it would seem, is alone required for a hive ;
nature, therefore, among other curious knowledge,
has not failed to impart this to the bees. As soon
as the stranger is imprisoned, another set of workers
go and confine the original queen ; and for what
reason1? — to force the two to fight for the throne.
This fact is corroborated by repeated experiments.
If there be the least disposition on the part of either
to move towards the other, the workers make way
and allow them to approach : if, on the contrary,
they attempt to flee, the workers return and pinion
them closely. But it is seldom necessary to stimu-
late queen bees to combat ; for nature has taken care
to secure her own ends, by inspiring them with the
most determined antipathy towards those of their
own sex and grade. Huber repeatedly introduced
stranger queens into the hive already supplied with
a sovereign, and in every instance a mortal combat
ensued.

The intervals between the rings of the belly are
the vulnerable points, the rest of the body being-
encased in armour impervious to the sting. As
soon as they come within view of each other, they
rush impetuously to the fight, endeavour to hit each
other at an advantage, dart out the sting furiously,
and the weapon may be seen to glance off the
corslet and scales; at last the strongest or the
most fortunate contrives to mount upon her enemy,
or fix her by the wing against a comb, and curving
her body under her antagonist's belly, inflicts a

40 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. II.

wound which for the most part proves instantane-
ously mortal. In these combats, it sometimes hap-
pens that the position of both is such, that each can
pierce its antagonist : when their situation is thus
critical, both become panic-struck, instantly disen-
gage themselves, and retreat. This happened so
invariably, that Huber looks on it as a special in-
stinct causing their separation, since by the death
of both the colony would be ruined.

Whatever may be the number of queens intro-
duced into a hive, one only is allowed to survive.
It was suspected that the workers themselves de-
spatched them, but in no instance does this appear
to be the case. On one occasion, Huber wished to
release a queen which was kept in close confine-
ment. Upon this the workers became so enraged,
that they stung indiscriminately, and thus the queen
perished ; but as a proof that this was accidental,
he states, that many of the workers themselves
were killed. That this antipathy of queens is na-
tural, is proved by the fact, that it holds good even
against the almost universal instinct of maternal
feeling. The queen bee at certain seasons, as shall
be hereafter explained, lays eggs, which in due
time are destined to bring forth other queens. It
might be supposed that, in this case, the feelings of
a mother would have their full sway — not so. As
soon as her young are about to assume a shape
like her own, even when they are as yet in their
cradle, and incapable of self-defence, she is stimu-
lated to the utmost fury by their presence ; she
tears open the cells which contain them, and, in-
serting the end of her body in the breach she has
made, inflicts a mortal wound on her own offspring.
Whatever may be the motive to such an action, we
must regard it as intended to answer other purposes
than gratifying the revenge of a poor insect, It
forms a part of the economy of nature. It is evi-
dently the intention of the Author of nature that

<CH. II.J THE HIVE BEE. 41

this should take place, for an especial provision ap-
pears to be made for such an attack on the young
queens. The cocoon* which the royal grubs spin
differs from that spun by the workers' grubs. The
latter are closed in every direction, so that the silk
coating would ward off the sting. The former, on
the contrary, are left open and uncovered on the
only part of the body which is vulnerable — the
lower rings of the belly.

Hence it appears that bees remember, recognise,
and distinguish— that they act differently towards
different queens ; that they take measures to reduce
their hives to the simplest economy, by getting rid
of supernumeraries ; that in order to effect this they
do not trust to that instinctive antipathy of queens
to each other, but seem to take precautions that it
should be forced into action : for it has been ob-
served, that they confine both queens as soon as it
is known that a stranger is in the hive. If they
did not, it is very possible that a long period might
elapse before the rivals should meet, and it is cer-
tain that, if fecundated, the prodigious fertility of
one of these creatures would be wasted, since one
hive of workers is not more than adequate to pro-
vide for the progeny of one queen.

Observing the effect of the antennae in agitating
bees, Huber contrived a beautiful series of experi-
ments to ascertain their uses. He divided a hive
into two portions by the sudden introduction of a
grating, through which a bee might hear, see, and
smell, but not touch its queen. . In the course of an
hour one of these divisions was agitated, and the
bees were seen scampering over their cells, neglect-
ing their labours, and crossing their antennae. In
the other, they were quietly at work. It was easy,
therefore, to infer in which half the queen had been
included. In the division which was destitute of a
queen, the workers, after waiting the usual time,

* The ball made by an insect while in its grub-state is a cocoon,

D2

42 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. II.

began to construct royal cells for the purpose of re-
placing1 their lost sovereign.

Seeing, then, that it was not hy means of the
sense of sight, hearing, smelling, or of any other
unknown sense which acted at a distance, that the
agitation of bees was excited, Huber so contrived
the grating, that the interstices were just large
enough to admit the antennae, but not the head of
the bee to pass through them. On one side of this
grating, a queen bee was placed with a few workers,
who immediately paid her the usual homage, by
forming a circle with their heads turned towards
her, offering her honey, and other marks of atten-
tion. On the other side were the rest of the swarm.
In this experiment the bees seemed perfectly aware
that the queen was not lost ; there was no neglect
of labour, no hurry, but every thing went on in a
very orderly manner.

" The means of communicating with this queen,"
says i,he same observer, " were very singular. An
infinite number of antennae thrust though the grat-
ing, and turned in all directions, plainly indicated
that the bees were occupied in searching for her.
She gave decisive proof that she was aware of the
interest which was taken in her existence, by always
remaining fixed on the grating, and crossing her
antennae with those so evidently employed in ascer-
taining her presence. The bees attempted to pull
her through to themselves ; for her legs were seized,
and firmly held by the antennae which were passed
to the other side. Their trunks were likewise ob-
served to be introduced to the queen's division ; and,
while a captive, she was fed by her subjects from
within the hive."

To make out the use of the antennae, Huber am-
putated them altogether ; this experiment produced
some remarkable results. The queen, when thus
mutilated, ran about the combs, dropped her eggs
any where but in the cells ; could not direct her

CH. II. J THE HIVE BEE. 43

proboscis aright, for if she required honey, she
stretched it out at random, and by chance only, to
the mouths of the workers. The antennae of a se-
cond queen -having been amputated, she was put
into the same hive as the first, and acted in the
*ame manner; she, too, ran about in a delirium,
retired to the corners of the hive, and strove to get
out. Two remarkable things occurred in these ex-
periments:— 1st, the workers, though they knew
they were queens, for they paid them the honours
of a sovereign, did not know one queen from an-
other ; for, as it has been already stated, they im-
prison a strange queen when she enters a hive
already provided with one. In this case both queens
had their respective courts. 2dly, The dreadful anti
pathy of queens to each other was annihilated by
the removal of the antennae ; for the two rivals often
met, but never took the least notice of each other.

When Huber put in a third queen, whose antennas
were entire, the bees treated her immediately as a
stranger, and instantly imprisoned her.

These experiments throw some light on the mode
in which communication takes place between bees.
In the first place, it is not improbable that of them-
selves they distinguish between a queen and a
worker, since they pay homage to the queen. We
may then conjecture, that in order to distinguish
one queen from another, some communication must
be made by the individual queen to her subjects that
she is their sovereign, since where the antennae
were amputated in two queens, both were equally
well treated, while a third, who had the antennae
entire, was instantly recognised as a stranger.

One of the mutilated queens strove to get out of
the hive, and not the slightest attempt was made by
the other bees to accompany her. Now, where the
antennae have not been amputated, the queen com-
municates some sensation to the workers, which, as
Huber conjectures, agitates them so much, that the

44 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. TL

heat of the hive becomes so intolerable as to force
them to quit it. The mutilation of workers by am-
putation of the antennce produces similar effects ;
it causes them to neglect their labours, run into cor-
ners, or to some sunny spot, and ultimately quit the
hive never to return. Hence, it would seem that
the antennae are the organs of communication. As
a farther proof of it, the sentinels, in a moonlight
night, may be seen patrolling round their habitation
with these feelers stuck out. If some unhappy
moth, slyly endeavouring to steal into the habita-
tion, happen to come in contact with them, the sig-
nal is made, and a body of guards soon rush out to
chastise the interloper.

The senses of smell, taste, feeling, vision, are
attributed to bees ; Huber doubts that they possess
the sense of hearing; their sense of sight is cer-
tainly acute in an extraordinary degree. If a dozen
hives be placed together, the bee, though at a great
distance, first rises in the air, and then, with almost
the swiftness of a bullet, proceeds in a straight line
to the entrance of its own habitation. If the eyes
be varnished over, they rise up in the air, or fly at
random.

This capacity of the bee to make its way directly
to its nest has been made use of as a guide. lii
New-England, the honey-hunters set a plate of
honey or sugar upon the ground; and in a short
time this is discovered by the wild bees. Having
caught two or three of those that have taken their
fill, the hunter first releases one, which, rising into
the air, flies straight to the nest. He now walks at
right angles to the course of the bee for a few hun-
dred yards, and then lets another go, which also,
after rising, flies to the nest. Observing, with his
pocket compass, the angle where the two lines
formed by the two courses of the bees meet, there
he knows will be the spot at which the nest is
placed.

CH. II.] THE HIVE BEE. 45

The honey-rattel, a quadruped, is equally saga-
cious with this biped honey-seeker. Near sunset,
the rattel will sit and hold one of his paws over his
eyes to get a distinct view of the bees which, at this
hour, he knows are bound to their nest, and thither
he follows.

The antennae are supposed to be the organ of
touch. Certain it is that these organs alone enable
the bee to work in the darkness of the hive.

The sense of taste is, according to Huber, not
very refined, for it matters little to what neighbour-
hood the bee goes to gather honey, or from what
flower. Hence the quality of honey varies in dif-
ferent hives, and in some it is said even to be poi-
sonous.

The sense of smell, no doubt, is also acute. Some
honey being placed behind a shutter by Huber,
so that it could not be seen, in a quarter of an hour
four bees, a butterfly, and some house-flies, dis-
covered it. Huber placed honey in boxes with
small cord valves ; and put them two hundred yards
from the apiary. In a quarter of an hour, some
bees had pushed against the valves, and entered.
Here the emanation from the honey was almost pent
up within the boxes, and the sense of sight could
not have assisted them.

Huber thinks that the sense of hearing is very
obtuse in bees. He says, that thunder, or the report
of a gun, has little or no effect upon them. It
would, therefore, seem that the popular notion, that
they are affected by the sound of a tin kettle, is not
well founded; however, it cannot be denied that
sounds are made by the flapping of the wings and
other movements of the body which are distinctly
heard and understood by bees.

Instances have been stated in which bees recol-
lected their queen. Another may be adduced which
appears to prove that the faculty of recollection em-
iraced a considerable lapse of time. " In autumn,'*

46 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. III.

says Huber, " honey had been placed in a window,
where the bees resorted to it in multitudes. It was
removed, and the shutters closed during winter;
but when opened again on the return of spring-, the
bees came back, though no honey remained: un-
doubtedly they remembered it; therefore, an in-
terval of several weeks did not obliterate the im-
pression they had received."

CHAPTER III.

THE HIVE BEE.

Interior Arrangements of a Bee-hive— Structure of a Comb— Form of
the Cells— Worker- Bees— Collection of Honey— Elaboration of Wax
— Bee-bread — Cleanliness of Bees.

THE reader must now be introduced to the interior
of the hive, and made acquainted with the archi-
tecture of these insects. In order to observe the
habits of this insect- world, the best plan is either to
have several glass hives, or overturn some com-
mon ones, that a comparative view may be taken
of the works carrying on in the interior.

" It is absolutely necessary," says Reaumur,
" that more than one hive should be thus exposed ;
for then we shall see the disposition of the combs
to be various in the different ones. They are not
restricted to a uniform mode of constructing their
cells, but accommodate the structure to circum»-
stances."

The combs do not touch each other, but are sepa-
rated by intervals sufficiently wide to permit the
bees to work at the surface of each contiguous
c-ombi, and approach any cell without quite touching
other — besides these highways, the little city

CH. m.J THE HIVE BEE. 47

contains also narrower passages, by which the com-
munication between one cake and another is mate-
rially shortened. The honey-comb is placed ver-
tically in the hive. Each comb is composed of two
layers of six-sided cells, united by their bases.

If the bee formed its comb like the wasp, having
the opening of the cells towards one of its faces,
and the base towards the other, it is evident that
the number of cells placed in one comb would have
formed two combs — and two combs, each contain-
ing a single set of cells, would of course take up
more room than a single comb, in which the two
rows of cells are united base to base.

The cells are usually placed in a horizontal po-
sition, so that their mouths open towards the sides
of the hive. The bottom of the cells, instead of
forming one flat square, is composed of three
lozenge-shaped pieces, so united as to make the
cell end in a point; — consequently, the whole is
a hexagonal tube, terminating in a pyramidal ca-
vity.

If the two cells had been a single hexagonal tube,
intersected in the middle by a flat instead of a pyra-
midal division, not only the shape would not have
answered the purpose of the bees, but more wax
would have been expended in its construction.

48 NATURAL HISTORY. [OH. in.

Hence it appears that both the body and the base of
the tube are the best fitted for their purposes ; that
the greatest strength and the greatest -capacity are
obtained with the least expenditure of wax, in an
hexagonal tube with a pyramidal base.

As the bottom of each cell is formed of three
lozenge-shaped pieces, it is obvious that their junc-
tion might have been formed at any imaginable
angle. Like the slated roofs of our houses, it might
have been of any inclination. Reaumur suspected
that, as the bottom of the cells had a uniform in-
clination, this particular direction was the one which
caused the least expenditure of wax. He therefore
asked Kcenig, an able analyst, to solve the follow-
ing question :— among all the hexagonal tubes with
pyramidal bases, composed of three similar and
equal rhombs, to determine that which can be con-
structed with the least possible quantity of matter'?
Kcenig, not at all aware of the object which Reau-
mur had in view when he proposed this problem,
worked it out, and found, — that if three rhombs or
lozenges were so inclined to each other, that the
great angles measured 109° 26', and the little angles
70° 34', this construction would require the least
quantity of matter. Maraldi measured the angles
formed at the bottom of a cell, and found that the
great angles gave 109° 28', the little one 70° 32'!—
Such an agreement between the solution and the
actual measurement is, it must be acknowledged,
sufficiently surprising. It is impossible to look at a
cell without fancying that some profound geometri-
cian had not only furnished the general plan, but
also assisted in its execution. The bees appear
says Reaumur, to have had a problem to solve
which wrould puzzle many a mathematician. "A
quantity of matter being given, it is required to form
out of it cells which shall be equal and similar, and
of a determinate size, but the largest possible with
relation to the quantity of matter employed, while

CH. III.] THE HIVE BEE. 49

they shall occupy the least possible space." By
making1 the form of the cell hexagonal, the bee has
fully answered all the conditions of the problem :
this form occupies the least possible space, while
its construction consumes the least possible quan-
tity of material.

It has been stated, that the combs are composed of
two sets of cells, united by their bases. Now, if
each set were first thoroughly formed, and then the
two cemented together, it is evident that there would
be a great waste of wax, since each of the cells
would have a distinct pyramidal base. Instead, how-
ever, of proceeding thus, the bees take the bases of
one set of cells as bases for those which they build
on the opposite surface (see fig. 1). If three pins be
passed through the middle of each of the rhombs
composing the pyramidal base of a cell, they will
pierce three cells of the opposite surface ; conse-
quently, in each comb, the base of each cell is com-
posed of three rhombs furnished by three different
cells of the other layer of the comb.

It has been already stated that the community of
bees is divided into three classes — workers, males,
and a female. Huber has found that there is a divi-
sion of labour among the workers ; one set of work-
ers are finished architects, who plan and build the
edifice — they at the same time are the nurses of the
young; while the other are mere bricklayers and
I.— E

50 NATTRAL HISTORY. [CH. III.

plasterers, who only bring the raw material, but do
not give it shape. The former he calls the nurse-
bees ; the latter, wax-workers.

Wax is not, like honey, a simple substance 'ex-
tracted by bees from the flower. On the contrary,
it is a secretion, found in the form of scales under
their belly. The wax-workers, having gorged them-
selves with the nectar of flowers, hang motionless
in festoons in the hive ; and in the course of twenty-
four hours scales of a white matter like talc are
formed under the rings of the abdomen. The nurse-
bees secrete wax too, but in very inconsiderable
quantities. Huber having provided a hive with ho-
ney and water, it was resorted to in crowds by bees,
which, having satisfied their appetite, returned to the
hive. They then formed festoons, remained mo-
tionless for twenty-four hours, and after a time scales
of wax appeared. An adequate supply of wax fop
the construction of a comb having been elaborated,
one of the bees disengaged itself from the centre of
the group, and clearing a space about an inch in dia
meter, at the top of the hive, applied the pincers of
one of its legs to its side, detached a scale of wax,
and immediately began to mince it with the tongue.
During the operation, this organ was made to as-
sume every variety of shape ; sometimes it appeared
like a trowel, then flattened like a spatula, and at
other times like a pencil ending in a point. The
scale, moistened with a frothy liquid, became gluti-
nous, and was drawn out like a riband. This bee,
which Huber has immortalized by the epithet of
" founder," then attached all the wax it could con-
coct to the vault of the hive, and went its way ; a
second now succeeded, and did the like ; a third fol-
lowed, but, owing to some blunder, did not put the
wax in the same line with that placed by its prede-
cessor ; upon which, says Huber, " another bee, ap-
parently sensible of the defect, removed the dis-
placed wax, and carrying it to the former heap, de-

CH. m.]

THE HIVE BEE.

51

posited it there exactly in the order and direction
pointed out."

The result of this series of operations was a little
block of wax, fixed to the vault of the hive, running
in a straight line, rugged in surface, but circular in
its edges, half an inch long, one-sixth of an inch high,
and about the twenty-fourth part of an inch thick.
The wax-workers, or common labourers, having de-

posited the requisite stock of materials, an architect,
or nurse-bee, quitted the cluster, inspected both sides
of the block, felt here and there with its antennae,

Fig. 1 and 2, represent the mode of making the first cells
Fig. 3. The fcexagyaa! shape oi the perfect cell.

52 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. HI.

and then, like a skilful mason, proceeded to exca-
vate exactly in the centre, as much of the block as
equalled the diameter of a common cell ; and after
kneading the material which it had removed, the in-
sect placed it carefully at the sides of the excava-
tion. Having performed its task, it was succeeded
by a second bee ; and in this manner upwards of
twenty workers succeeded each other, each one tak-
ing care to push forwards the material excavated so
as to extend the walls of the cell. When the cell
had risen and been extended on one side, a bee quit-
ted the swarm, and after encircling the block, began
on the side opposite to that of the first cell, and, as-
sisted by another, sketched out two, which were
so situated, that the partition between them was
precisely opposite the first cell, on the reverse side.
Those who wish for a more minute detail of this
operation may consult Huber's account. They ne-
ver at first begin two masses for combs at the same
time, but scarcely are some rows of cells constructed
in the first comb, before two other masses, one on
each side of it, are established at equal distances
from it, and then again two more exterior to these.

As the stock of raw material is gradually exhausted
during the progress of these operations, the wax
workers continue adding to it a fresh supply. The
expedition with which they effect their various objects
is very great. When settled for the first time in a new
hive, they will sometimes construct a comb twenty-
seven inches long, by seven or eight inches wide, in
the space of twenty-four hours ; and in the course
of five or six days they will half-fill the hive : hence
it appears, that, in the first fifteen days after they take
possession of a new habitation, there is as much wax
made as they elaborate during the remainder of the
year.

There are three sorts of cells ; the first are for the
larvae of workers ; the second for those of the males
or drones, which are larger than the former, and are

CH. III.] THE HIVE BEE. 53

usually situated in -the middle of the comb ; the third
are the royal cells. An inattentive observer might
perhaps be led to infer, that the various cells com-
posing a cake are little habitations in which -the
workers might repose themselves after .the labours
of the day, each in its own house. This, however,
Js not the fact : for some of these are filled with ho-
jney, and others closed up. On a more careful
Inspection, it will be seen that most of the cells
.contain a little worm : the young of the bee — an ob-
ject evidently of the most anxious care and attention
•to those appointed to watch and feed them. But al-
though indefatigably industrious, even these insects,
when tired with labour, require repose, and cease to
work when the ordinary motive for exertion is with-
drawn. It is curious to observe their mode-of rest ;
four or five cling to a part of the hive, and extend
their hind legs, whence others suspend themselves
by their fore feet. These do the same neighbourly
turn for another line, and thus at all times either
bunches (fig. 1) or festoons (fig. 2) of bees may be

seen reposing. Huber, however, has seen the work
ers retiring sometimes to a cell, and remaining mo-
tionless for twenty minutes.
E2

54 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. lit

The length of the period which elapses before
they assume their ultimate form, varies in the three
kinds of bees, and is thus stated by Huber. " The
worm of the worker takes twenty days, the male
twenty-four, the queen sixteen days, in arriving at
maturity. The worker remains three days in the
egg ; five in the grub state, when the bees close up
its cell with a waxen covering ; it is thirty-six hours
in spinning its cocoon ; in three days it changes to
a nymph, passes six in that form, and then comes
forth a perfect bee.

" The male passes three days in the egg ; six and
a half as a worm, and on the twenty-fourth makes
its appearance as a winged animal.

" The royal insect passes three days in the egg ;
is five a worm, when the bees close its cell, and it
immediately begins its cocoon, which is finished
in twenty-four hours. During eleven days, and
even sixteen hours of the twelfth, it remains in a
state of complete repose. Its transformation into a
nymph then takes place, in which state four days
and a part of a fifth are passed."

On the fifth day after her appearance, the queen
quits the hive for the purpose of fecundation : for-
ty-six hours afterward she begins to lay eggs, and
a hive will often consist of forty thousand inhabit-
ants, the most of them her own offspring. The
first eggs of the queen always give birth to workers.
In spring she lays about two thousand eggs of
males, resumes it again in August, but during the
rest of the intervals she exclusively lays workers'
eggs. It is curious that oviposition is retarded by
cold ; during winter it does not take place. Huber
relates an instance where a queen, instead of laying
her eggs forty-six hours after fecundation, did not do
so for several months, owing to her impregnation
having taken place just before winter.

The queen must be at least eleven months old,
before she begins to lay the eggs of males. The

CH. III.J THE HIVE BEE. 55

bees, both workers and queen, know the period of
oviposition proper for each kind of egg, and take
care to provide suitable cells at a proper period.

Huber removed all the worker-cells from a hive,
and left nothing but male cells ; the bees, instead of
repairing the damage done to the hive, by uniting
the fragments of comb, seemed quite disheartened,
went into the fields, but returned unladen. The
queen, too, hesitated about laying her worker-eggs
in the large male cells, and at last they were seen
to drop from her at random. However, six eggs
were deposited regularly ; but the workers did not
treat them very carefully. They were removed
next day, and the cells left empty. In order to re-
animate them, he gave the bees a piece of comb,
composed of worker-cells, but which were filled
with male instead of worker-eggs. For twelve days
the bees obstinately abstained from working in
wax, but at last they positively removed the whole
of the male brood, and cleaned the cells, just as if
they had been aware that the eggs which were to
come from the queen required worker-cells. As
soon as this was done, the queen no longer dropped
her eggs at random, but deposited them in the cells.
The male cells were then taken away, and the
worker-cells restored ; upon which the ordinary la-
bours of the hive were resumed. If the workers
reasoned and felt, here is a fact which would at
once attest their foresight, and their affection for
their queen ; they knew she required worker-cells,
and accordingly, to accommodate her, they pulled
out the male, brood, which, under other circum-
stances, they would have fondly nourished.

Hence it is reasonable to infer that the ovaries of
the queen contain a regular succession of eggs, and
that the bees know this as well as herself, at least
they act as if they knew it. There is, however, a
curious effect produced by retarding the fecundation
of the queen. Huber found, that if fecundation

56 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. III.

took place in the first fifteen days of a queen's life,
the regular series of eggs was deposited ; but if de-
layed beyond the twenty-second day, the queen laid
only the eggs of males for the rest of her life. Now,
it must be remembered that, in the natural state,
she must have been at least eleven months old be-
fore male eggs could be laid, and yet it appears that,
simply by retarding fecundation twenty- two days,
she begins immediately to bring forth male eggs ;
of this extraordinary fact no satisfactory explana-
tion has been hitherto given. The instinct of the
queen seems affected by the delay; for although,
when fecundation has not been retarded, she never
fails to deposite the different sorts of eggs in their
proper cells ; when it has, she lays them indiscrimi-
nately in any cells. The workers too are puzzled ;
for in the natural state they can accurately distin-
guish between the different kinds of eggs, and they
never fail to give a peculiar covering to the male
cells ; but when the impregnation of the queen hap-
pens to have been retarded, they feed the worms
of drones, deposited in a royal cell, as if they were
royal worms.

The royal cells differ essentially from the others,
both in form and position ; they are not placed hori-
zontally like the other cells, but vertically, and re-
semble a pear with the small end downwards. When
the queen lays in them, they are like the cup
of an acorn ; after this they are modelled to the py-
riform shape, and quite closed up. In the construc-
tion of these cells, the bees seem to lose sight of
their customary habits of economy ; no expenditure
of materials is considered too great ; no space ne-
cessary for the accommodation of the future queen
is grudged. More wax is expended in constructing1
the cradle of the infant queen, than would suffice to
build one hundred or one hundred and fifty ordinary
cells ; and no labour is spared in rendering it com-
pact and solid.

CH. III.]

THE HIVE BEE.

67

Fig. I. Closed royal cell.

2. Another varied in shape.

3. Two cells just commenced ; their apertures are here drawn
looking upwards, to show their cavity. This position is the
reverse of the natural one.

One of the most astonishing- facts connected with
the economy of bees, is the manner in which, when
deprived of their queen, they proceed to repair their
loss: for this purpose they construct several of
these royal cells, and taking a common worker-
worm out of the ordinary cells, they put it into a
royal one, feed the insect with royal food, which is
more pungent than that destined for worker grubs,
and in a few days, instead of a worker, they have a
queen. This extraordinary discovery, made by
Schirach, has been confirmed by Huber, and is now
admitted by all naturalists. In many parts of Ger-
many, and more especially in Lusatia and Saxony,
the peasants, availing themselves of this discovery,
are enabled to multiply their swarms of bees at
pleasure ; they shut up a few hundred working bees

58 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. HI.

with a piece of honey-comb containing- common
grubs three or four days old : the worker bees im-
mediately set about destroying some of the common
cells ; construct royal cells in their stead ; deposite
the grubs in these cells, and administer to them food
proper for grubs destined to become queens. This
experiment is constantly repeated, and never found
to fail. In the proper time a number of young
queens is produced; the supernumeraries are de-
stroyed ; and at length only one survives to govern
the hive. Thus wonderfully does nature provide
for the preservation of the species — the life of thou-
sands of these insects depending on that of a queen.
In order to guard against the possibility of exter-
mination, she has taught the bee the miracle of con-
verting the whole of the instincts and organization
of one kind into those of another, by the simple
means of providing a different and a more pungent
kind of food for the subject of its marvellous expe-
riment. There seems, however, to be a natural
provision for this change ; for it is found that all the
workers are imperfect females, whose organs are
not developed : the food simply farthers this deve-
lopement. But whether we look to the design or
the means used, or the circumstances under which
it is effected, it is one of the most striking facts in
the whole range of natural history.

As soon as the queen bee has laid her eggs in the
various cells, the nurses are incessantly occupied in
watching over the brood. For this purpose, they
ROW forego every other employment. There is
usually but one egg deposited in each cell; but
when the fecundity of the queen happens to exceed
the number of cells already prepared, three or four
eggs maybe found crowded together in the same
repository. But this is an inconvenience which
the working bees will not permit to continue ; they
seem to be aware that two young ones placed in
the same cell, when they grow larger, would first

CH. III.] THE HIVE BEE. 59

embarrass, and then destroy each other, Henee,
they take care that no cell shall contain more than
one egg ; all the rest they remove or destroy.

The single egg which is left remaining is glued
by its smaller end to the bottom of the cell, which
it touches only in a single point. A day or two
after the egg has been thus deposited, the worm is
excluded from the shell ; presenting the appearance
of a maggot rolled up in a ring, and reposing softly
in a bed of whitish-coloured jelly, upon which the
little animal soon begins to feed. The instant the
little worm appears, the working bees attend it with
the most anxious tenderness ; watching the cell with
unremitting care, they furnish the infant insect with
a constant supply of the whitish substance, on which
it both feeds and lies. These nurses evince for the
offspring- of another greater affection than many
parents show towards their own children. They re-
gularly visit each cell at very short intervals, in
order to see that nothing be wanting; and they are
constantly engaged in preparing the white mixture
on which the insect feeds.

Thus attended and plentifully fed , the worm, in less
than ten days' time, acquires its full growth, and
ceases to take its usual food. Perceiving that it has
no occasion for a farther supply, they perform the
last office of tenderness, and shut the little animal
up in its cell ; they close the mouth of the aperture
with a waxen lid"; and the worm, thus effectually
secured against every external injury, is left to
itself.

The worm is no sooner shut up, than it throws off
its inactivity and begins to labour ; alternately elon-
gating and contracting its body, it contrives to line
the sides of its apartment with a soft material, which
it spins after the manner of other caterpillars, before
they undergo their last transformation. The cell
having been thus prepared, the animal passes into
the aurelia state ; when, although in a state of per-

60 NATTRAL HISTORY. [cH. HI.

feet inactivity, it exhibits not only the legs but the
wings of the future bee. Thus, in about twenty or
one-and-twenty days, the bee acquires its perfect
form, and becomes in every respect fitted for its fu-
ture labours. When all its parts have acquired their
proper strength and consistence, the young insect
pierces with its teeth the waxen door of the prison
in which it is confined.

The different transformations will be best under-
stood by the subjoined cut : the first represents the
egg stuck to the bottom of the cell by a glutinous
matter ; its form is oblong. The next gives a view
of a cell with the worm hatched and coiled up. The
third shows the worm changed into a nymph.

When quite freed from its cell, it is as yet moist
and encumbered with the spoils of its former situa-
tion, but the officious bees soon come to its relief j
one party is seen to flock around it, and lick it clean
on all sides with their trunks, while another band
may be observed equally assiduous in feeding it with
honey ; others immediately begin to cleanse the cell
which the young insect has just quitted, and fit it for
the accommodation of a new inhabitant. The young
bee soon repays their care by its industry ; for the
moment its external parts become dry, it discovers
its natural appetites for labour. Freed from the cell
and properly equipped for duty, it at once issues from
the hive, and, instructed only by its natural instinct,
proceeds in quest of flowers, selects only those which
contain a supply of honey ; rejects such as are bar-
ren, or have been already drained by other adven-
turers ; and when loaded, is never at a loss for its
way back to the common habitation. After this first

CH. III.] THE HIVE BEE. 61

sally, it unremittingly pursues, throughout the whole
course of its future existence, the task which its in-
stinct thus impels it to begin.

There are three substances for which bees forage
during their excursions from the hive : honey, or a
saccharine matter extracted from the nectary of
flowers — the pollen or fertilizing dust of the anthers
— and an odoriferous resin called propolis.

Honey is extracted from that part of the flower
called the nectarium. For the purpose of collecting
this fluid substance, the insect is furnished with a
trunk or tongue, which it is capable of doubling up
or elongating at pleasure. This is not formed in
the manner of a tube, by which the fluid is to be
sucked up, but like a tongue, to lick away the honeyed
juice which nature has secreted in the little glands
which were always known to the bee, although they
had, until a very recent period, completely eluded
the researches of the most skilful botanists. From
the tongue this sweet juice is conveyed to the mouth :
it then passes through the gullet into the first sto-
mach or honey-bag, which, when filled, appears like
an oblong bladder, and as transparent as crystal (see
Jig. p. 62). Children in country places are well
acquainted with this bladder, and destroy many bees
in order to get at their store of honey. When the
bee has sufficiently filled this bag, it returns to the
hive, and, reserving only a small part of its load for
its own use, disgorges the remainder into one of the
cells. Sometimes the insect may be seen delivering1
its surplus store to another bee, which appears ready
to receive it at the entrance of the hive ; when it flies
off for a fresh supply. Some honeycombs are always
left open for the common use of the workers engaged
in the hive ; but the greater number of the cells filled
during the course of the summer are carefully
stopped up until the internal supply of honey begins
to fail, and it becomes necessary to have recourse to
their contents. When the harvest of honey is so
I.— F

02 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. TH.

1. Honey-bag, or first stomach*

2. Second stomach.

3. Biliary and salivary ducts.

4. Large intestines.

plentiful that the bees have not sufficient room for if?
they either lengthen their cells or build new ones.

The pollen or yellow dust, which loosely adheres
to the central parts of flowers, is another substance
eagerly sought after by the industrious bee. The
breast, legs, and many other parts of the body are
covered with a fine down or hair. The insect enters
the cup of a flower charged with this yellow farina,
rolls itself round, and soon becomes quite covered
with this vegetable dust. Nature has provided the
bee with means admirably adapted to secure the
treasure thus collected on its body; the last joint
but one of each leg being formed exactly like a
brush. These natural brushes are passed one after
another over the various parts of its body, and by
that means the pollen is collected into two little

CH. m.J THE HIVE BEE. 63

heaps. The thighs of the last pair of the insect's
legs are furnished with two cavities fringed with
hair ; these form a convenient little basket for the
use of the bee. The dust collected from a thousand
flowers is kneaded into diminutive pellets and stuck
into these cavities ; and when these balls have been
increased to the size of a grain of pepper, away flies
the insect to deposite its store in the hive.

But this meal or dust is not always to be obtained
in sufficient quantities : early in the season, before
the flowers upon which the bee feeds are generally
blown, this pollen is contained in a capsule from
which, in its then immature state, it is not easily
dislodged. The bee, however, well knows where
the object of its search lies concealed — it examines
and feels these repositories : having discovered one
sufficiently advanced towards maturity to answer its
purpose, it pinches the capsule with its teeth, and
then takes possession of the hidden treasure.

When a bee, charged with a load of this vegetable
dust, reaches the hive., it enters one of the cells head
foremost. The pellets are then detached from the
hollow cavities in which they have been carried, and
being moistened and mixed with a small portion of
honey, they are kneaded into a substance called by
the country people bee-bread. An adequate supply
of this food is indispensable for the health and
strength of bees during the winter season. Bees
may be robbed of their honey, and will thrive if fed
during the winter with treacle ; but no proper substi-
tute has yet been found for this bee-bread. When
deprived of this necessary of life, they become con-
sumptive and die.

The gathering of the pollen affords a striking illus-
tration of the means indirectly employed by nature
to second her purposes. The pollen is the fertilizing
dust of flowers ; it is necessary for some of it to fall
on a particular part of the pistil, in order that the
flower .shall give place to fruit, enclosing the seed of

64 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. HI.

a future plant. Now, it has been remarked by a
great number of naturalists, that the bee, when it
collects the pollen from one plant, does not go to a
different sort of plant for more, but, labouring to col-
lect the same kind of fertilizing dust, it seeks only
the same kinds of flowers. Since the fecundation
of the vegetable kingdom is effected in no small
degree through the medium of insects, which, while
searching for their own food, unconsciously sprinkle
the fertilizing pollen on the reproductive organs of
plants, it follows, that had the bee gone from one
kind of flower to another, this would have given rise
to hybrid plants, and thus have counteracted the
purposes of nature.

" I have frequently," says Dobs, " followed a bee
loading the farina bee-bread or crude wax on its legs,
through part of a great field in flower, and on what-
ever flower it first alighted and gathered the farina,
it continued gathering from that kind of flower, and
passed over many other species, though very nume*
rous in the field, without alighting on or loading from
them — though the flower it chose was much scarcer
than the others : so that if it began to load from a
daisy, it continued loading from the same, neglecting
clover, honeysuckles, and the violet. What farther
confirms my observation is, that each load on the
legs of a bee is of one uniform colour.

Besides honey and pollen, there is a third substance
which bees collect as essential for their purposes
This is a resinous gum, differing from wax in tena-
city as well as in various other qualities ; it is an
exuding substance found in certain trees, such as the
birch, the willow, and the poplar. To the ancients
it was known under the name of propolis. Near the
outlet of one of his hives, Huber placed some
branches of the poplar tree, which exudes a trans-
parent j uice of the colour of garnet. Several worker-
bees were soon seen perching upon these branches ;
having detached some of this resinous gum, they

CH. III.] THE HIVE BEE. 65

formed it into pellets, and deposited them in the bas-
kets of their thighs ; thus loaded, they flew to the
hive where some of their fellow-labourers instantly
came to assist them in detaching this viscid sub-
stance from their baskets. These pellets were laid
in a little heap as near as possible to the place in
which it was afterward used. In the instance ob-
served by Huber, the propoli-s was attached to the
roof the hive, exactly in the centre between two of
the combs, so that it lay in a situation equally con-
venient with respect to the cells of either. A bee
then drew out a thread from the viscid mass ; it then
cut it off with its teeth, and laid hold of it with the
elaw of one of its feet. Thus equipped, the insect
was seen to enter one of the cells which had been
but just formed. The object of this manoeuvre was
soon apparent ; when the insect came out, one of the
angles formed by the junction of two of the six sides
forming the ceil, was found lined and soldered with
propolis. The process was regularly repeated, until
all the angles had been lined and secured in a simi-
lar manner; not indeed by the same bee, but by
others which shared in this labour. Having finished
one cell, they proceeded to another, until all the cells
destined for the young had been thus soldered and
strengthened.

Propolis is the substance used in all cases in which
strength and solidity are required. It is well known
that the habitation of bees ought to be very close ;
if it contained any cracks or unstopped crevices,
other insects might enter the hive, or the rain might
penetrate into the interior, which would be attended
with fata! consequences. Any deficiencies in these
respects, which may arise either from the unskilful-
ness or negligence of man, the insects supply by
their own industry ; so that when they take posses-
sion of a new habitation, their first and principal care
is to close up all crannies with propolis. When the
bees begin to work with this substance it is soft, but
F2

66 NATURAL HISTORY, [CH. III.

every day it acquires a firmer consistence ; until at
length it assumes a brown colour, and becomes much
harder than wax.

When the foundations of the combs are laid, the
first row of cells differs from the succeeding- ones in
that it is composed of five instead of six sides : the
fifth or broadest being- the side or base by which the
comb was suspended from the roof of the hive. As
long- as the cells are but few in number, and not over-
loaded with honey, this pentagonal row is sufficiently
strong to support the comb ; but when the wants of
the hive render it necessary to construct more cells
and increase the stock of honey, their instinct in-
forms the bees, that the foundations of the comb are
not sufficiently strong to support the increased
weight. Accordingly, they are seen, in a sort of
fury, to fall upon and destroy the pentagonal cells,
and for the wax with which they were originally con-
structed, to substitute a composition of propolis and
wax. This substance was, by the ancients, termed
pissoceros. The tenacity and strength of this mate-
rial render the foundations of the combs perfectly
secure, and relieve the bees from all subsequent anx-
iety on that account. The ingenuity evinced by the
bees in the performance of this task is no less worthy
of admiration than the sagacity which enables
them to find out its necessity. It is evident that, if
the first row of cells were removed at once, the comb
itself would fall ; since it is attached to the roof
of the hive by means of this row. In order to guard
against this danger, the bees work at alternate sides
of the comb ; they remove first one portion of the
old comb, substituting for the brittle wax the strong
and tenacious cement called pissoceros, before they
touch the other.

Among other virtues possessed by bees, cleanli-
ness is one of the most marked ; they will not suf-
fer the least filth in their abode. It sometimes hap-
pens that an ill-advised slug or ignorant snail chooses

CH. III.] THE HIVE BEE. 07

to enter the hive, and has even the audacity to walk
over the comb ; the presumptuous and foul intruder
is quickly killed, but its gig-antic carcase is not so
speedily removed. Unable to transport the corpse
out of their dwelling-, and fearing "the noxious
smells" arising from corruption, the bees adopt an
efficacious mode of protecting themselves ; they
embalm their offensive enemy, by covering him over
with propolis ; both Maraldi and Reaumur have seen
this. The latter observed that a snail had entered a
hive, and fixed itself to the glass side, just as it does
against walls, until the rain shall invite it to thrust
out its head beyond its shell. The bees, it seemed,
did not like the interloper, and not being able to pe-
netrate the shell with their sting, took a hint from
the snail itself, and instead of covering it all over
with propolis, the cunning economists fixed it im-
moveably, by cementing merely the edge of the ori-
fice of the shell to the glass with this resin, and thus
it became a prisoner for life, for rain cannot dissolve
this cement, as it does that which the insect itself
uses.*

* When they expel their excrements, they go apart that they may not
defile their companions ; and in winter, when prevented by extreme
cold, or the injudicious practice of wholly closing the hive, from going
out for this purpose, their bodies sometimes become so swelled from
the accumulation of feces, that when at last able to go out, they cannot
fly, and falling on the ground in the attempt, they perish with cold, tho
sacrifice of personal neatness.— Kirby, vol. ii. p. 200.

NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. iv.

CHAPTER IV.

THE HIVE BEE.

fertility of Queen Bee — Swarming — Ventilation of the Hive — Irasc**
bility — Duels — Robberies — Defences of Bees.

As spring advances, the losses which the hive has
-sustained in the autumn and winter are repaired. The
fertility of the queen-mother is prodigious. Schi.-
rach says, that in the course of one season, a single
female will lay from 70,000 to 100,000 eggs. Hu-
ber and Reaumur's estimate is not so high ; but the
lowest is very considerable : hence the habitation is
soon overpeopled, and it becomes necessary, there-
fore, that thousands should quit their homes, and
lay the foundation of another kingdom. This ex-
patriation is not confined to the young brood, who
have not as yet laboured, but the old; they who with
infinite travail had already constructed one city,
yoluntarijy Leave all they have done, to begin life
again.

About the time when the queen lays royal eggs, the
workers make preparation for the male insects ; con-
sequently, males and females appear about the same
period, when Providence has covered the surface of
the earth with the flowers from which the young bee
may collect its food. The same kind hand has ap-
pointed the autumn, when the fruit is ripe, for the
:birth-t.ime of the young wasp.

Sometimes there are as many as twenty royal cells,
each of which contains a queen. The natural ha-
tred subsisting between female bees has been menr
tioned, but this passion, apparently so vile and inju>
£ ious, is the means by which the species is saved, and

CH. IV.] THE HIVE BEE. 69

its instinctive habits perpetuated. While the meta-
morphosis of the young queens is proceeding, each
cell is sedulously surrounded with a guard.

As soon as the worm is transformed into a nymph,
and not before, the old queen becomes infuriated.
She rushes towards the royal celis, and instantly be-
gins to tear them open. The guards make way for
her, and allow her to do what she pleases. As the
cells, however, are considerably thicker than those
of the common bee, she soon exhausts herself by her
labour, and generally, after she has opened one or
two of them, and most barbarously murdered her
own offspring, she languidly attempts to gnaw at a
third. The sight of these cells agitates her to such
a degree, that she runs about the hive in a state of de-
lirium. This excitement she soon communicates to
the workers by touching their antennae, and, after
scampering about in all directions, a great portion of
them, accompanied by their old queen, rush out of
the hive to seek another home. In every instance
it is the old queen which leads the first swarm. Ex-
perience enables the apiarists to foretel this event :
for, on the evening previous to swarming, the bees
often suddenly leave off their labours, as if aware of
the approaching change ; while a few scouts are sent
out in search of a spot fit to receive the new colony.
Something very like concerted action and foresight
is evident in these proceedings. But after every
preliminary step for departure has been taken, it fre-
quently happens that a cloud, obscuring the sun, will
put an end to their plan, and cause them to return
peaceably to the hive. Instinct here is so closely
allied to reason, that it is difficult to mark the distinc-
tion. If it were blind impulse that drove them out
of their hive, why do they change their purpose ?
Nay, farther, like reasoning beings capable of erring,
they sometimes make a false judgment, and after
hesitating, actually do swann, and are caught in the
so much dreaded shower.

70 NATURAL HIS! OR V. [cH. IV.

After the old queen is gone, the bees watch the
royal cells ; and as soon as the worms are in a state
to become nymphs, they close them up.

It is to be remarked that this operation is not done
to every cell at once ; consequently, the young queens
are of various ages : indeed, at least one day inter-
venes between the laying of one royal egg and an-
other.

By this means, several queens are successively
born, and several swarms thrown off. Had, on the
contrary, fifteen or sixteen queens appeared at the
same time in the same hive, the whole number
would have fallen victims to their own passions.

As soon as a young queen is produced, like her
mother, she proceeds instantly to attack the other
royal cells ; but here there is a remarkable differ-
ence in the conduct of the workers ; for, although
they permitted their ancient queen to pursue her sove-
reign pleasure, they by no means extend the same
courtesy to her daughter ; but the moment she at-
tempts to approach a cell, the guards surrounding
them immediately attack, bite, and drive her off.
She then runs to another, and is treated by the guards
of that cell in a similar manner; the fury of her
passion, constantly excited by the sight of these
•cells, sends her in a state of fury about the hive;
•and this, as in the other cases, is communicated to a
portion of the workers, and they all quit their native
habitation.

In this way several swarms will issue from one
hive in the course of one season. This seems to
explain the cause of the very undutiful and unusual
treatment which the queen experiences from the
workers, They know that several queens are ne-
cessary, and accordingly guard against the effects
of that antipathy which, by destroying the royal
orood, would prevent swarming. If it so happen
that three or four queens should appear at the same
, or before the redundant population which had

CH. IV.] THE HIVE BEE* 71

left the hive may have been replaced by the birth of
additional workers, the bees keep them prisoners by
shutting up the cells as fast as the young queens at-
tempt to bite their way out. In this way some of
them, when set at liberty, are fit for immediate
flight. The royal prisoners, however, are inerelv
detained ; for when they pipe for food, and thrust
their proboscis through a hole in the cell, made just
large enough for that purpose, a nurse-bee standing
by instantly supplies them with honey

In the attack which tike young queen makes on
the royal cells, irritated by the maltreatment of those
who ought to pay her homage, she stands upright,
and utters a shrill and clear sound. No sooner is
this piping heard, than the bees are immediately pa-
ralyzed : they remain motionless, and hang down
their heads. Huber and others have remarked this
strange effect very often. She then proceeds to tear
open the cells, but, in doing so, ceases to pipe, when
the bees, recovering from their stupor, drive her
away. Again she repeats the cry, and again the
same effect is produced. Hence it is evident that,
during the swarming season, the instinct of bees
undergoes considerable modification: for when they
have simply lost their queen, and taken measures to
replace her, by building royal cells, and feeding the
grubs of common workers, in the manner stated by
Schirachr and when several queens make their ap-
pearance, they seem to excite them to fight ; and the
conqueror is chosen their monarch. But in. the
swarming time, as just detailed, they appear aware
that a plurality of queens is necessary to thin the
hive, and, in consequence, they forget their habitual
respect for the female, treat her roughly, and detain
her prisoner, not for any determinate period, but as
long as her appearance would be detrimental to their
ends. How strangely analogous to human reason-
ing and calculation is this ! What simple sensation
can make the bees detain one queen one day, an-

72 NATURAL HISTORY. [ciI. IV.

other five days, and let either free just at the very
moment her presence becomes essential ? Why,
too, do they allow the old queen to open the royal
cells, and slay as many of the royal nymphs as
she has strength to destroy, at the very time that
they are wanted, while they bite and drive away a
young- queen, who might attempt the same thing '?
One would almost be inclined to think, that the habit
of obeying the old queen — that personal attach-
ment, or something not unlike it, for one so long
known to them, had some influence upon their pro-
ceedings.

The hive is always warm, and the bees lessen the
heat by ventilation. This branch of duty devolves
on workers alone. They unite their wings by means
of their marginal hooks into one piece, and then flap
them up and down; like a fan. This operation pre-
sents something which resembles a designed combi-
nation of efforts, for it is not carried on indiscrimi-
nately in all parts of the hive. The fanners station
themselves, for the most part, at the bottom of the
hive, and are usually ranged in files. Some are
stationed outside of the hive ; these always turn
their heads towards the entrance; others are sta-
tioned within, and turn theirs in the opposite direc-
tion. Their number seldom exceeds twenty at a
time ; they relieve each other, and the operation is
never remitted. If either the hand or wind-gauges
be held at the entrance of a bee-hive, a distinct im-
pression of a current of air, now acting, now subsid-
ing, is produced.

After the hive has cast off several swarms, and
no more remain than are necessary for the preserva-
tion of the city, the bees no longer evince any anx-
iety about the rest of the royal brood ; frit allow the
rOyal cells to be torn open by the first-born queen,
and either drag out the young themselves, if worms,
or permit them to be killed, if nymphs.

Such is a brief account of the phenomena of

CH. IV.J THE HIVE BEE. 73

swarming. Huber has conjectured that the imme-
diate cause of it lies in the great rise of temperature
occasioned in the hive by the commotion of the
workers. This heat amounts to 104°. Tt is
usually in spring from 90° to 97°. Perhaps the
conjecture is well-founded ; but this agitation occurs,
independently of swarming, from the loss of the
queen, and yet the bees do not think of quitting their
habitation.

So many faculties having been given to bees,
enabling them to provide for their wants, it is not
likely that they should have been left without the
means of defending the possession of whatever is
necessary for them.

The sting by which this little animal defends it-
self and its property from its natural enemies, is com-
posed of three parts: the sheath and two darts,
which are extremely small and penetrating. Both
the darts are furnished with small points or barbs,
like that of a fish-hook, which, by causing the wound
inflicted by the sting to rankle, renders it more pain-
ful. Still the effect of the sting itself would be but
slight, if the insect were not provided with a supply
of poisonous matter, which it injects into the wound.
The sheath, which has a sharp point, makes the
first impression; this is followed by that of the darts,
and then the venomous liquor is poured in. The
sheath some limes sticks so fast to the wound, that
the insect is obliged to leave it behind ; this consi-
derably augments the inflammation of the wound,
and to the bee itself the mutilation proves fatal.
Were it not for the protection of its sting, the bee
would have too many rivals in sharing the produce
of its labours. A hundred lazy animals, fond of
honey and hating labour, would intrude upon the
sweets of the hive ; and for want of armed guar-
dians to protect it, this treasure would become the
prey of worthless depredators.

In Mungo Park's last mission to Africa, some of
I.— G

74 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IV.

his people, having disturbed a colony of these ani-
mals, were so furiously attacked, that both man and
beast were put to instant flight. The list of the
killed and missing amounted to one horse and six
asses — a serious loss to a white man in the midst
of inhospitable deserts.

Lesser tells us, that in 1525, during the confusion
occasioned by a time of war, a mob of peasants, as-
sembling in Hoherstein, attempted to pillage the
house of the minister of Elende, who having in vain
employed all his eloquence to dissuade them from
their design, ordered his domestics to fetch his bee-
hives, and throw them into the middle of the infu-
riated multitude. The effect answered his expecta-
tions : they were immediately put to flight, and
happy were those who escaped unstung.

It sometimes happens that a young swarm choose
to enter a hive already occupied ; when a most des-
perate conflict ensues, which will last for hours, and
even for days, and the space around will be found
covered with the slain. These desperate conflicts
not only take place between strangers, but also be-
tween inhabitants of the same hive — offspring of the
same mother. The causes which bring division
into so united a society have not been hitherto as-
certained.

On those fine spring days in which the sun is
beautiful and warm, duels may often be seen to
take place between two inhabitants of the same
hive. In some cases, the quarrel appears to have
begun within, and the combatants may be seen com-
ing out of the gates eager " for blows." Sometimes
a bee peaceably settled on the outside of the hive, or
walking about, is rudely jostled by another, and
then the attack commences, each endeavouring to
obtain the most advantageous position. They turn,
pirouette, throttle each other; and such is their bit-
ter earnestness, that Reaumur has been enabled to
come near enough to observe them with a lens with-

CH. IV.] THE HIVE BEE. 75

out causing a separation. After rolling about in
the dust, the victor, watching- the time when its
enemy uncovers his body, by elongating it, in the
attempt to sting, thrusts its weapon between the
scales, and the next instant its antagonist stretches
out its quivering wings, and expires. A bee cannot
be killed so suddenly, except by crushing, as by the
sting of another bee. Sometimes the stronger in-
sect produces the death of the vanquished by
squeezing its chest. After this feat has been done,
the victorious bee constantly remains, says Reamur,
near his victim, standing on his four front legs, and
rubbing the two posterior ones together. Some-
times the enemy is killed in the hive ; then the vic-
tor always carries the corpse out of the city, and
leaves it. These combats are strictly duels, not
more than two being concerned in them ; and this
is even the case when armies of bees meet in
combat.

It must also be confessed, that however inclined,
naturally, to industrious habits, the bee will turn
thief, if it cannot obtain food by its own labours.
In hives which are ill managed, and not properly
supplied with food, the bees, instead of continuing
a well-constituted civil society, become a formidably
organized band of robbers, which levy contributions
upon the neighbouring hives. At first, a few enter
the hive by stealth ; their numbers are then gradu-
ally augmented, and at length grown more bold, an
attack en masse is made, and a bloody battle ensues.
When the carnage is ended, and one of the queens
killed, the bees unite under the same sovereign, and
the vacated hive is now ransacked, and its treasures
conveyed to the new city.

A still more extraordinary instance of aggression
sometimes occurs, when this proverbially indus-
trious insect does not disdain to rob on the highway.

Occasionally, one solitary humble bee, which, in
its instincts, compared with the hive bee, is a mere

70 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IV

rustic, may be seen surrounded by four or five of
the latter, who waylay it as it returns towards its
nest laden with honey. They, however, do not
injure it, but just subject it to that degree of restraint
and uncomfortable mauling-, by pommelling' its
chest, and pulling its legs, which obliges it to unfold
its tongue and disgorge its honey. The robbers,
one after another, sip from the honey; and when
the insect has been thus eased, it is set at liberty.

Sometimes, a sort of friendly intercourse takes
place between two hives. Thus the inhabitants of
a hive belonging to Mr. Knight, used to visit that of
a cottager, considerably after their working-hours.
Each bee, before it entered, seemed to be questioned.
On the tenth day, however, these civilities termi-
nated in a battle.

Besides this just exhibition of anger in defence
of their lives and property, there are times in which
the whole hive becomes infuriated against certain
members of their own community. It seems as if
the bees are such rigid economists, that whoever is
useless must be got rid of. Hence the massacre of
drones or male bees ; they are born in April and
May, and are killed in August. Huber saw them
chased from corner to corner of the hive, till at
length the whole were huddled together at its
bottom, and there massacred.

This murderous work was going on at the very
same hour in six different hives, clearly showing
that it is not an effect of chance. In one hive, how-
ever, in which the fecundation of the queen had
been retarded, so that nothing but drones were pro-
duced, they were not molested; neither are they
touched in hives deprived of the queen. Hence, the
fury of the bees against drones is connected with
some principle of utility : not only drones, but even
workers are occasionally slaughtered by their com-
rades: some conjecture this to take place on ac-
count of their old age. A species of workers, dif-

CH. IV. J THE HIVE BEE. 77

fering in colour from the rest, and supposed to be
monstrous, have also been observed to be relent-
lessly massacred.

It is not, however, by force alone that these crea-
tures defend their properties and hives ; they possess
invention enough to rear regular fortifications for
protection. Huber once discovered that great
ravages had been committed upon his own hives,
and he also learned from all quarters, that a similar
calamity had befallen those of his neighbours. At
length it was found, that the destruction which had
taken place had been caused by that gigantic moth,
called the Sphinx Atropos, or Death's Head. How
an animal apparently so defenceless should have
dared to enter, and then to do what it was found to
have done, is still a matter of surprise. It is con-
jectured by Huber, that the sound which it emits
produces effects on the bees similar to that of the
queen ; and thus disarms them of the power of re-
sisting its depredations. It is clear, however, that
in the daylight, which is unnatural to the sphinx,
the bees can kill it ; at least, they did so in an ex-
periment made by Huber.

As the enterprises of the sphinx became more
and more fatal to the bees, Huber determined to
construct a grating which should admit a bee, but
not the moth. He did so, and the devastation
ceased. But what is extraordinary, he found that
in other hives, not protected by human ingenuity,
the bees had adopted a very similar expedient for
their own defence ; and to add still more to the won-
der, these defences were not alike, but variously
constructed in different hives.

" Here, was a single wa.ll whose opening arcades
were disposed in its higher parts : there, were seve-
ral bulwarks behind each other, like the bastions of
our citadels ; gateways, masked by walls in front,
opened on the face of the second row, while they
did not correspond with the apertures of the first
G g

78 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IV

Sometimes a series of intersecting" arcades per
mitted free egress to the bees, but refused admit-
tance to their enemies. These fortifications were
massy and their substance firm and compact, being
composed of propolis and wax."

When the entrance of their hives is itself re-
stricted, or care is taken to contract it soon enough
to prevent the devastation of their enemies, bees
dispense with walling themselves in. Here, then,
we have the invention and adaptation of means to
a proposed end.

Nothing is more calculated to convince us that
animals are not mere machines, than seeing them
varying their proceedings according to circum-
stances. Even their mistakes and irregularities
cause us to doubt the doctrine, that all their actions
are the result of organization. Of this, bees furnish
abundant instances.

"The geometrical regularity with which the
labours of bees are conducted," observes Bonnet,
"has been justly celebrated ; it requires, however,
but little observation to perceive much variety in
the construction of the cells — and this is some-
times so remarkable as to strike the most careless
observer. Some of them are circular, and some
elliptical, instead of the usual hexagonal form.
The bottoms of the cells show also considerable
irregularities. It often happens, that instead of
being constructed in the usual manner, of three
lozenge-shaped pieces, they are formed of four, five,
or six pieces, of a shape more or less irregular, but
which approach a quadrilateral form or square, more
nearly than any other figure. The dimensions of
the common cells are still more various than their
opening or their base. The cells are usually about
five lines* in depth; but I have seen some more than
eighteen lines deep. These unusually long cells

* A line is the twelfth part of an incU,

CH. IV.] THE HIVE BEE. 79

have always one of their sides towards the side of
the hive. They serve only to hold honey wanted
for the daily consumption of the little republic ; and
the queen has never been seen laying her eggs in any
cells of this kind. The cells are usually horizontal ;
but the long cells just mentioned are frequently in-
clined towards the horizon."

It has been already stated, that when the grubs
of bees are about to be transformed into nymphs,
the workers carefully close up the cells in which
they are lodged with a lid. This precaution is ne-
cessary, in order that their transformation should
be effected in security. The lid used for this pur-
pose is in some degree convex, and never flat like
the lids which shut up the honey-cells ; and by this
means the breeding cells may always be distin-
guished from the honey-cells. When a cell has
been thus closed up, the grub sets about lining the
whole of its walls ; this operation requires that it
should move : hence it is necessary that the cell
should be neither too narrow nor too short, to allow
it to move freely. A swarm, which Bonnet had
placed in a very flat glass hive, had constructed a
large comb, running parallel with one of the sides
of the hive ; but because the space was narrow, the
bees had not been able to give the cells the usual
depth. These were common cells; nevertheless,
the queen did not omit laying in them; and the
workers fed the grubs which proceeded from these
eggs. Nor did they fail to shut up the cells when
the grubs were on the point of being transformed.

Some days after they had been so shut up, holes
were observed in the lids, more or less in diameter,
through which a part of the body of each worm
had protruded. It appeared that the cells had not
the necessary depth, and that the grubs, finding
themselves too much hampered for room, had
pushed roughly against the lids, from which they
had detached pieces of various sizes. It was in-

80 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IV.

teresting to watch what steps the bees would take
in this emergency. Bonnet expected to find that
they would have taken the grubs out of the cells, as
they do when the combs happen to be greatly de-
ranged; but in this he was deceived, and he found
that he had by no means correctly calculated the
resources which instinct placed at their command.
They did not take out a single grub; they left them
all in the cells which they occupied: but because
the cells were not deep enough, they shut them up
with lids somewhat more convex than usual; and
thus found means to add to each cell the depth
which it wanted. In this manner the grubs were
placed at their ease; no openings were afterward
perceived in the lids ; only the interval between the
comb and the glass hive was by this means so nar-
rowed that the bees could hardly pass through it.

Some philosophers have maintained that bees and
other social insects act merely from sensation ; that
their sensorium is so modelled that they are im-
pelled by a sensation of pleasure alone to the acts
which it is their destiny to perform ; that the suc-
cession of their different labours is preordained by
the Creator ; and a pleasurable sensation attached
to the performance of each task : and that, conse-
quently, when they build cells, — when they sedu-
lously attend to the young brood, — when they col-
lect provisions, these proceedings evince no plan,
no affection, no foresight; but that the enjoyment
of an agreeable sensation is the sole influencing
motive which leads to the perform nice of each of
these operations. But " surely," observes Kirby
" it would be better to resolve all their proceedings
at once into a direct impulse from the Creator, than
to maintain a theory so contrary to fact, and which
militates against the whole history which M. Huber,
who adopts this theory from Bonnet, has so ab]y
given of these creatures." That their various em-
ployments may afford them agreeable sensations,

¥ ^ ^ '

t,rt < fetf

CH. FT.] THE HIVE BEE. 81

is a fact which need not be disputed : but that the^y
act merely from the impulse of these sensations,
without any plan previously concerted, seems to be
contradictory both to reason and inference. That
their proceedings are conducted upon a plan which
does not result from mere sensation, is proved by
the fact that they vary their proceeding's accord-
ing to circumstances. Their well-known irasci-
bility leaves no room to doubt that they are sus-
ceptible of the passion of anger; and that they are
liable to be acted on by fear and alarm is universally
acknowledged : and, admitting them to be suscep-
tible of anger and fear, it does seem unreasonable
to infer that they are, at the same time, incapable
of feeling affection. Farther, the precautions which
they are known to adopt, to prevent and ward off
any evils which seem to threaten them, also prove
that they possess a certain degree of foresight.
Without rivalling man either in intellect or feeling,
they may be endowed with that measure of each
which is necessary for their purposes.

After all, the moving principle which impels and
regulates the proceedings of the social tribes of
insects, is involved in a depth of mystery which,
with all our boasted advantages, we in vain attempt
to fathom : the motives which urge them to fulfil,
in so remarkable, though diversified a way, their
different destinies, baffle the researches of human
sagacity. But however impenetrable may be the
veil which conceals these mysteries from our sight,
one thing is clear to demonstration, — that these
creatures and their instincts loudly proclaim the
power, wisdom, and goodness of the GREAT FATHER
of the universe, and prove, beyond all cavil and
doubt, the existence of a superintending Providence,
which watches with incessant care over the welfare
of the meanest of his creatures.

82 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH.

CHAPTER V.

THE HUMBLE BEE.

Builds her own Habitation— Curious Division of Labour — Remarkable
for Good-nature and Affection for her Young — Ingenuity in over-
coming Difficulties— The Carpenter-Bee— The Mason-Bee— The Up-
holsterer-Bee.

THERE are other sorts of bees, whose history is
less imposing perhaps, but not less curious, than
that of the species which has been just detailed:
some of these live in societies ; but their limited
number, and the rudeness of their dwellings, when
compared with the populousness, the order, and
architecture of the hive, make us feel that we are
contemplating a village, after having seen a large
metropolis. The contrast, however, is interesting ;
and a true philosopher, after he has marked the
manners of a civilized kingdom, always finds his
knowledge enlarged by the observation of the sim-
pler habits of the rustic, or even the ruder customs
of the savage. The Humble Bee, so well known to
us, may be truly termed a villager. The community,
which numbers from twenty to three hundred, con-
sists of females of two sizes, the very largest, and
the small ones; males which are stingless, and
neuters. There is a jealousy between the small
and large females, but it does not appear that it is
of so deadly a nature as that which prevails among
the hive bees. Indeed, Reaumur says, that the
large ones live peaceably together in the same nest.
Like true rustics they are all born to labour. Here
there is no queen attended by a numerous guard,
enjoying the privilege of doing nothing except lay-
ing eggs, — nor idle males, subsisting upon the fruits
of the industry of others ; but, whether male, female,
or neuter, they all share alike the common labour.

CH. V.] THE HUMBLE DEE. 83

It is very probable, that, alone and unattended,
the female lays the foundation of the future little
village, and that its inhabitants are all her own off-
spring. The hive bee must have a ready-made ex-
cavation for the reception of its comb — the humble
bee raises its dwelling from the foundation. There
is nothing imposing in its exterior : on the contrary,
a tuft of moss, six or seven inches high, and buried
seemingly in a clod, conceals all that is dear to these
little creatures. A closer inspection shows, that the
mossy filaments are carefully interlaced, and so
nicely put together, that not a grain of dirt is inter-
mingled with its texture. This light vault, although
two or three inches thick, is scarcely capable of
sheltering the young from the wind and rain ; and
to remedy this defect, its inner or concave surface
is lined with a species of cement which effectually
excludes the wet. If a nest be watched, one of its
inhabitants will be soon seen to bury itself in a
mossy hole, perhaps a foot from the nest itself.
This is the entrance of a covered and secret way,
leading to the inside of the habitation. Should the
curiosity of the observer overcome his reluctance to
destroy the patient labour of the humble bee, he will
have an opportunity of observing the mode in which
it works. The nest is always placed in the midst
of the material from which it is to be constructed,
and Reaumur never was able to detect any of its
inhabitants bringing moss from a distance : rather
than do so, the bee repairs the vault with material
taken from the covered way, and even choosing to
do without it altogether, rather than forage for moss.
In some instances they seem to be led by instinct to
vary their proceedings. Thus, Mr. P. Huber, having
placed a nest of humble bees under a bell-shaped
glass, stuffed the interval between its bottom and
the irregular surface on which it rested with a linen
cloth : the bees, finding themselves in a situation
where no moss was to be obtained, tore this cloth

84 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. ?.

thread by thread, carded it with their feet into a felted
mass, and applied it to the same uses as moss, for
which it proved an excellent substitute. Some other
humble bees tore the cover of a book with which he
had closed the top of a box which contained them,
and made use of the detached morsels in covering
their nests.

Mrw^«

They divide their labour in a curious manner. A
bee settles on a tuft of moss, its head being turned
from the nest, and its tail towards it : with its teeth
and its first two. legs it divides and disentangles the
filaments, and transfers them to the two middle legs ;
the second pair seize and push them to the third pair,
and these thrust them as far behind the tail of the
bee as they can reach, by which means the moss is
advanced towards the place where it is proposed to
build the nest, by a space which somewhat exceeds
the whole length of the body of one bee ; another
bee, placed in a line with the first, receives the ball
of material with its fore-legs, and like the first, trans-
fers it the whole length of its body ; and thus four
or five of these insects, stationed in a row, spare
time and labour in conveying the material for build-
ing, on the same principle that Irish labourers may
be seen transferring their wheelbarrows from one to
another.

The inside of the nest contains a comb or combs,
which show no trace of the geometrical principles
recognised in the workmanship of the hive bee.
The upper surface of each comb is irregularly con-
vex, its under concave, and it is composed of oval
eminences placed against each other (fig. 1 , a) , These

CH. V.] THE HUMBLE BEE. 85

Fig. 1. a. Cocoon.

b. The receptacles for egg.9.

c. Honey pots.

are not cells for the young1, as in the comb of the
hive-bee, but cocoons spun by the larva before its
final metamoiphosis. By the sides of these oval
bodies, and sometimes covering1 and concealing them,
are deposited ill-shaped masses (Jig. 1, 6), which
constitute the chief object of the labour of these rus-
tics. These are the receptacles for the eggs of the
female, and contain not one egg only, but sometimes
as many as thirty eggs (fig. 2). They are filled
with a species of bee-bread, formed of the pollen of
flowers, moistened and prepared by the bee, so that
the young worm, when hatched, is surrounded with
a mass of matter which serves the double purpose of
food and raiment, nourishing and keeping it from ex-
ternal impressions. Besides these receptacles of
eggs, the nest contains also open cylindrical vessels,
which are filled with excellent honey, destined for
the common supply. The humble bee, by-the-way,
has a much finer instinct in discovering the nectar
of flowers than the hive bee ; for in many flowers
the nectary is concealed from the hive bee ; the hum-
ble bee, however, finds it out, and taps it in the same
manner as a butler gets at the contents of a cask.
In this case, the hive bee, like the cunning1 inhabitant
of a city, allows the rustic to gather the treasure,
and then waylays and robs it of its load.
I.— H '

86 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. V

Huber relates a curious story to illustrate the
good-nature and generous disposition of the humble
bee. In a time of scarcity, some hive bees, after
pillaging the nest of the humble bee, took entire pos-
session of it : one or two, however, of the latter still
lingered about their old habitation, and went into
the fields to collect honey, which they brought home ;
the hive bees surrounded, licked them, and presented
to them their proboscis, never once showing the
sting. By these means, Huber is of opinion, that
the humble bee was fairly wheedled out of its stock
of honey : these manoeuvres lasted three weeks.

Their affection for their young is remarkable.
When about to lay her eggs, the female is obliged
to watch with the utmost care, and to drive off the
workers, who greedily endeavour to devour them.
Kirby thinks this instinct is bestowed upon the in-
sect for the purpose of keeping the population within
due bounds. For six or eight hours the cell con-
taining her precious charge is anxiously watched by
the mother ; but, after this period, the desire to de-
vour the egg ceases to animate the workers, and
they now appear as assiduous in preserving, as they
were before eager to destroy, the young. They
know to the hour when the food is consumed by the
grub, and introduce a fresh supply through a small
hole made in the receptacle, which is then carefully
closed. As the grubs increase in size, the cell which
contained them becomes too small; and by their
exertions to be more at ease its thin sides are split.
The workers, which stand constantly by to watch
when their services may be wanted, apply a patch
of wax to fill up these breaches as fast as they are
made. The cells are thus daily increased in size,
in order to accommodate the growing grub. When
the larva is about to change into the pupa, the
workers cluster over the cocoon, and thus cherish the
tender inhabitant with that heat which is necessary
to its existence. Mr* P. Huber put a dozen humble

CH. V.] THE CARPENTER BEE. 87

bees under a glass case, and gave them a piece of
comb composed of ten silken cocoons, so uneven
that it had no foundation on which it could rest
firmly. The bees were sorely disquieted, as they
could not, on account of the unsteadiness of the
comb, cluster on the young. Their affection sug-
gested, however, an ingenious expedient. Several
of them mounted upon the comb, and fixing their
hindennost feet on its edge, and the foremost on the
table, they succeeded in rendering the mass suffi-
ciently steady to allow their comrades to cluster on
the cocoons. For three days sets relieved each
other ; at the end of which time they had prepared
wax enough to build pillars to fix the comb. By
some accident these pillars were displaced, when
the affectionate creatures resorted a second time to
the same means, and assumed the same constrained
posture. At last, compassionating their distress,
Huber did that for them which they had been endea-
vouring so earnestly to do for themselves. It has
been very naturally asked, " If, in this instance,
these little animals were not guided by a process
of reasoning ?" If this question be answered in the
negative, it would be difficult to show the difference
between reason and instinct : for it may be assumed
as a certainty, that the circumstances under which
our rustics were placed had never occurred to them
during the course of their short existence, nor proba-
bly to ten of their species since the creation.

There are some species of bees which lead a soli-
tary life, and seem to exercise a mechanical art.
The first of these performs the labours of a carpen-
ter, the next those of a mason, and the third may be
termed the upholsterer. The wood-boring or car-
penter-bee is almost as large as the humble bee, not so
downy, but more deeply coloured. In spring it
seeks out for some old post or withered part of a
tree, to begin its habitation — sedulously shunning
the sappy and green wood, which probably from its

88 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. V.

toughness would not suit its purpose. The position,
as well as the quality of the substance is also taken
into consideration ; for it will not select a piece of
wood placed in a spot where the sun rarely shines.
As soon as a piece of dry rotten wood is found, our
workman begins to bore in an oblique direction (fig.
1), and after having gone to a certain depth, the di-

rection of the cavity is changed, and is now conti-
nued in the wood in an axis perpendicular to the
horizon. This is a work which occupies our labour-
ers not a few hours, but weeks.* For days together
the carpenter-bee may be seen going in and out of
the hole, and shovelling out the sawdust, which has
resulted from its patient labour. The cavity is from
twelve to fifteen inches in length, and often broad

* This, assuredly, is a great work for a bee, since it is not finished in
a day. The insect is occupied about it for weeks, and even for months.
—REAUMUR, vol. vi. p. 42.

THE CARPENTER BEE. 89

enough to admit the forefinger of a man. A single
bee will make two or three of these holes in the
course of the season. After the length has been deter-
mined, the tube is divided into about twelve compart-
ments, each of which is destined to receive an egg.
The bottom of the tube forms the base of the first
compartment. In this the bee piles up a quantity
of bee-bread till it reaches about an inch in height ;
upon the surface of this one egg is laid, and over the
whole mass a roof is formed, which serves as a cover
to the bottom division, and a floor for the next above
it. Each of the partition planks is about the thick-
ness of a crown-piece. It is to be observed, that,
in partitioning off the cells, the bee follows a system-
atic plan, and that a curious one. It begins by glu-
ing the particles of sawdust round the outside of the
cavity, so as to make an annular projection. Inside
this ring she glues more, and thus she gradually
works from the circumference towards the centre ;
at last, a covering of concentrical circles of sawdust
is formed (fig* 2).

Having completed her first cell, and deposited an
egg in it, she now proceeds to form another heap of
bee-bread on the annular horizontal partition, and,
depositing a second egg, she covers it with a similar
roof of glue and sawdust ; a second cell being finished,
she continues her labours until the whole excavated
space has been filled up by a series of cells. The
insect not only knows the figure and capacity of each
of the cells necessary to accommodate her young,
but much more : she knows the exact quantity of
aliment which the grub will consume from the mo-
ment of its birth to the period of its maturity ; and
deposites precisely that supply which it will want,
from its tenderest state to the time when it shall
come out as perfect as herself.

It will be recollected that the hive bee is furnished
with a species of basket to carry home the pollen
collected in the fields. The wood-boring bee, being
H2

90 NATURAL HISTORY. [dl. V.

destitute of this apparatus, makes use of a different
contrivance to convey provender to its nest. "I
observed," says Reaumur, "several of these in-
sects walking in the little forest of stamina which
surrounds the flower of the poppy; by their bulk
and weight they upset and pressed down all the fila-
ments which crossed their path ; during- their pro-
gress, their hind legs became covered with the
pollen or yellow dust which adhered to the downy
hairs on their surface. After they had buried them-
selves successively in several flowers, each of the
last pair of legs appeared as if enveloped in a foot-
less boot." With this load the insect flew to the
nest, brushed off the pollen adhering to its legs,
which, mixed and tempered with a proper supply of
honey, was then deposited in the cell.

Each of the circles visible in the piece of wood
marks a pause in the labours of the architect ; and
the sum of their number bears testimony to that in-
defatigable industry which formed them, grain by
grain, into a solid mass.

The sawdust used for this purpose is a portion of
that which the insect had thrown out while exca-
vating the tube. When shovelled out by the bee, it
falls on the ground, and forms a little heap near the
plank or piece of dry wood in which the insect is at
work. When the ingenious little carpenter wants
materials to form the partitions between the differ-
ent compartments in the tube, it issues forth, alights
upon this heap of sawdust, selects a grain of this
dust, and flies away with it to the interior of the
cavity. This proceeding is regularly repeated until
the whole work has been completed.

From the order in which the eggs are placed, it
follows, that the worms are of different ages in the
different cells ; consequently the lowest emerge the
first. But how is it to get out ? Does it wait till
all those above it have escaped from their cells ?
A provision is made for this emergency. The larvae,

CH. V.] THE MASON-BEE. 91

or grubs, are placed with their heads downwards,
so that, as the first effort to walk is forwards, their
progress is not towards the superior cells. The
mother-bee makes a hole at the bottom of the tube
(Communicating' with the lowest cell, and through
this opening the inhabitant comes out. When the
food in the cell next above is consumed, its tenant
gnaws away its under partition, and then, through
the cell which has been just vacated, finds the way
clear to the outlet made by the mother. Hence it
appears, that all the young come out through this
back door, which is provided for them by their
anxious parent

Natural history, abounding as it does in the most
interesting facts, presents few things more striking
than the industry of this insect. Consider its la-
bour— boring out a tunnel fifteen or twenty times
its own height ; descending and then ascending to
carry off the sawdust, and then, after having cleaned
out the tube thoroughly, returning1 to this heap of
sawdust, and collecting, grain by grain, a sufficient
quantity to partition off the number of nurseries
which its young may require.

Lumps of mortar may frequently be seen stuck
against a garden- wall, exposed to the sun; when-
ever an attempt happens to be made to remove
them, they will be found to resist the impression of
the strongest knife. These have not been formed
by a careless bricklayer, who may have left a dab
of his material to disfigure the wall. Each lump is
the work of care, and constitutes the habitation of
the mason-bee. One of these lumps, when de-
tached from the wall, will be found to contain eight
or ten cavities, in each of which is deposited a larva
with its supply of food. At first sight these cells
might be imagined simply bored in the lump ; and
truly, in giving solidity to its workmanship, this bee
may, indeed, be said to conceal the skill which it
has exercised.

92

NATURAL HISTORY.

[CH. V

a A cell with the cocoon.

b Ditto.

c A cell in which the worm has not spun its cocoon; the excrements

are seen in black dots.
d A cell from which the perfect insect has escaped.

As soon as the mason-bee has discovered, in some
old wall, a site suitable for its future habitation, it
sets about collecting the material requisite for its
construction. This material is a mortar chiefly com-
posed of sand. The insect seems to be well aware
that all kinds of sand are not equally calculated to
produce good cement : the grains must neither be
too large nor too fine. The little creature, there-
fore, takes especial care to select, grain by grain,
what may suit its purpose ; a few such grains only
being apparently contained in a heap of sand, the
whole of which a human plasterer would willingly
appropriate to the execution of his work. " I can-
not understand," says Reaumur, " why the mason-
bee did not at once take the whole of its load from that
part of the gravel walk on which it had first settled.
Having 'collected a few grains on one spot, it flew
off and alighted 0:1 another: but, for my part, I
could not see that the gravel of one spot differed in
the slightest degree from that of the other; both
places abounding in large and small grains, inas-
much as the whole walk was covered with the same
kind of sand. Hence I infer that this insect pos-

CH. V.] THE MASON-BEE. 93

sesses some sense which enables it to discover ad-
vantageous peculiarities of form which escape
human observation." It felt each grain with its
strong teeth : it did not, however, carry them off
one by one ; this would have occasioned a waste of
time inconsistent with its usual habits of economy:
it contrived to collect together a sufficient number
of grains to form a heap of the size of a small shot,
and cemented the mass together with a viscid
liquor ejected upon it from the mouth. With the
gravel and cement it mixed a little earth, which
rendered the whole firmer and more tenacious. The
little pellet of well-tempered mortar thus formed
was instantly conveyed by the bee to the spot se-
lected for the nest, where the foundation was formed
by a circle of these little balls deposited in regular
succession. On this circular foundation it pro-
ceeded to raise a rouud tower of very small dimen-
sions. Every time that a fresh supply of mortar
had been brought to the spot, the insect was seen to
twist and twirl it about between its teeth and first
pair of legs ; it was then laid in the place destined
to receive it, and moulded into the proper shape.
As the tower or circular hollow- increases in height,
the insect is seen thrusting its head into the interior
of the cell, for the purpose, no doubt, of ascertain-
ing whether the material has been properly applied ;
as the inside comes in contact with the tender and
unprotected skin of the cherished offspring, it is
indispensable that it should be rendered perfectly
even ; and on this account it is smoothed with all
the assiduity and skill of the provident and tender
parent. The outside, being destined for no such
purpose, is left in a rough state. Each cell is sepa-
rately formed, and the whole, when completed, is
enveloped in a common covering made of sand.

After a cell has reached a certain height, and be-
fore it has been quite finished, the mason-bee, like
the carpenter-bee, goes in quest of honey and pollen,

94 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. V.

which it deposites as a support for its young-. To
facilitate the execution of this task, it is taught by
instinct the exact quantity of food required to supply
each grub with nourishment. It enters the cups of
flowers, and daubs itself all over with pollen, and
then flies to the nest, where the vegetable dust is
brushed neatly off, and deposited in the store cell ;
on this it disgorges from its honey-bag' a small por-
tion of honey. These materials, well mixed and
kneaded together, are formed into bee-bread; the
requisite quantity of this substance having- been
prepared, and nicely packed, an egg is then laid in
each cell, the top is carefully closed, and the labour
of the mason-bee terminates. The scene of its in-
dustry, and the objects of all its care and tender-
ness, seem to be then all at once forgotten ; the pur-
poses of nature having been ansAvered, and the per-
petuation of the race having been provided for, the
individual insect dies.

These insects have frequently been observed to
appropriate the labours and usurp the rights of one
another. While a mason-bee was on the wing in
search of materials for finishing a cell, Du Hamel
saw another enter and take possession of it without
the slightest ceremony. It turned about in every
direction, examined every part, and then began to
proceed as if the whole had been raised by its own
industry. When the real owner of the dwelling re-
turned, the stranger would not budge a jot ; in order
to obtain possession of its own, the former insect
laid down its load of mortar and offered battle;
which was readily accepted by the trespasser.
These combats, although curious and long, seldom
prove mortal. The insect which gets soonest fa-
tigued by the contest retires, leaving its victorious
antagonist in possession of the cell which formed
the subject of dispute.

The mason-bee, like other insects, is exposed to
the attacks and depredations of various natural ene-

CH. V.] THE MASON-BEE. 9S

mies. Notwithstanding- the strength of the habita-
tion which had been formed for the young of the
mason-bee, some insects pierce, while others steal
into these stony towers, and, in the very recesses
of this mansion, devour the offspring of the indus-
trious mason. But of all the enemies of this insect
the most destructive is the ant. When one of these
strolling marauders has discovered the hidden trea-
sure of the mason-bee, information of the welcome
prize is speedily communicated to the whole tribe,
who repair in long files towards the spot which con-
tains the booty. The poor bee makes every effort
to resist its antagonists ; but, fatigued at last with
unavailing slaughter, and unable to drive off the ad-
vancing host, it gives up the contest in despair, and
abandons the produce of its labours to its hungry and
unrelenting foes.

The worms enclosed in their stony prison undergo
the usual metamorphosis, and bite their way through
the hard substance without the aid of the mother.

Du Hamel put one of these nests into a glass fun-
nel, and covered the orifice of the handle with gauze.
He saw three young bees pierce through three inches
of the nest, and yet they were unable to cut the gauze
which prevented their escape, and so they perished.
Such are creatures impelled by instinct, often tran-
scending rational beings in some things, as much as
they fall below them in others.

The ancients, not content to admire the actual qua-
lities and instincts of the hive bee, imagined others,
to which it had no j ust pretension. Seeing bees flying
with little gravel-stones, the older naturalists thought
that they did so to prevent their being carried away
by the wind ; but there can be little doubt that in
these instances, the mason-bee was mistaken for the
hive bee. There are other kinds of bees which build
their nests in the hollow of stones, or in other
ready-made cavities. Their manners may be passed
over.

06 NATURAL HISTORY. [en. v

The insect which Reaumur has denominated the
upholsterer-bee, is about the size of the hive bee ; its
nest is composed of leaves, formed into a tube, some-
times eighteen inches long, in shape resembling a
toothpick-case, with its ends rounded : this it lays
sometimes horizontally, sometimes vertically, in a
hole in the ground. The boring of the hole is a
Work of pure labour; but the construction of the
nest deposited in it manifests the most consummate
skill. The bee first of all hovers about a leaf, exa-
mines it well, and then settling, begins to clip off
a portion shaped to suit its purpose ; the most dex-
terous milliner could not handle her scissors with
the quickness and precision with which this bee exe-
cutes its task.

The shape of the cut pieces is either semi-ovoid
or circular ; occasionally it makes a mistake in the
size, but this only happens in a number of instances,
just sufficient to remove the impression, that the

a The bee cutting.

b The diameter of a large piece of leaf used fbr the sides of the cell

c The dimensions of a piece of leaf used in corking up the cells.

insect is a mere machine. As it clips with its sharp
teeth, it folds the morsel under its belly, bestriding
and squeezing it between its six legs, so that at the
last bite it would fall to the ground with its load, if
it were not prepared for flight.

The pieces of leaf first used in lining the earthen
apartment are the largest* These large bits it rolls

CH. V.] THE UPHOLSTERER-BEE. 97

into a tube, lining the whole length of the hole it has
made, rounding off and closing one end of it by
doubling the pieces one upon another. This is the
outermost coating, laid on to prevent the earth from
falling in. Within this is made the number of cells
which the insect requires. Three semi-ovoid pieces
of leaf, rolled in such a manner that the edge of one
piece overlaps a little the edge of the next, form the
hollow of the cell, its height being less than an inch
The ends of these three pieces are then turned up to
form the bottom. The bee, however, is not contented
with one layer only, but adds to the thickness of the
lining of the cell by applying three additional pieces
within it ; and again within that three others, so that
there are at least three cells put one into another,
each made of three pieces of leaves, the bottom of
which, being formed of the turning up of the extre-
mities of all the morsels used, is ninefold.

One cell being thus completed, an egg is deposited
within it, and the empty space around the egg is
filled with food nearly liquid. The cell being placed
horizontally, and its contents not being very viscid,
it is necessary to cork it up : this operation the bee
executes by cutting several circular portions of leaf
which precisely fit the mouth of the cell : they are
as exactly measured as if a compass had been used
in cutting them.

The second cell is placed on the first, the third on
the second ; the whole, when completed, very much
resembles a set of thimbles put one upon another,
and enclosed in a large toothpick-case (fig. 1, 2).

This is a very extraordinary result of instinct :
how many trials would a human artificer require be-

98 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. V.

fore he should succeed in cutting- a circular piece of
card to close up the mouth of a thimble so exactly,
that, if placed horizontally, no honey should escape!
—yet the bee accomplishes this in a few seconds,
and at a distance from the tube ; acting as if it had
preserved the idea of its diameter in its head. The
other pieces, entering into the composition of the
body of each cell, must also have their exact size ;
the outermost must be the largest in every direction,
and have a determinate figure ; while the inner ones
must be of a less size.

" If," says Reaumur, " these bees act mechanically,
they are very surprising machines ; for they not only
cut out certain regular figures, but make them sub-
servient to after-use. Whether this be attained by
instinctive or intellectual means, the glory is due to
that Intelligence which made them and us." In these
habitations, the young of the leaf-cutting bee remains
during the whole winter, and emerges a perfect insect
early in the ensuing spring.

The bee just described, though ingenious in the
furnishing of its humble dwelling, always chooses
the leaf of certain trees of a modest colour ; for there
are various kinds of leaf-cutters, using various kinds
of leaves. There is, however, another species which
may much more strictly be called the upholsterer
than the leaf-cutter ; for it literally lines its dwelling,
which is a perpendicular hole in the ground, with
tapestry of the brightest flame-coloured scarlet.

The nest of this little creature is usually to be
found by the side of the paths which traverse corn-
fields, and it begins to construct its habitation when
the wild poppy is young and fresh in flower, cutting
out bits from its thin and crimson leaf, to line a hole
which it has dug to the depth of three inches ; the
last inch is wider than the first two ; the bottom is
first overspread with the tapestry, and the cylindri-
cal sides are next lined ; the whole being composed
of several layers. After this has been accomplished,

CH. V.]

THE UPHOLSTERER-BEE.

99

1 The cell before the eg? is deposited within ; it is lined the whole

length with the leaf of the red poppy.
2. The red poppy lining depressed.

one egg is deposited in it, with a quantity of honey
and pollen, or bee-bread, piled up an inch high ; the
lining of the two upper inches of the hole is then
thrust down, and pressed on the mass, so as to form
a sort of cork ; and, to complete the work, the bee
shovels in the earth which had been dug out, so
neatly, that Reaumur was puzzled to make out what
had become of the nest he had seen only a short time
before. It would appear that all this labour is re-
quired to form one cell and to receive one egg;
doubtlessly there are others, but the same vicinity is
not chosen by the same insect for the rest of its off-
spring ; the nature of the ground, probably, decides
the location, for it must be dry, otherwise the crim-
son leaves and the honey become putrid, and the lit-
tle inhabitant, instead of a cradle, finds a tomb.

100 THE COMMON WASP. [CH. VI,

CHAPTER VI.

THE COMMON WASP.

The Nest — Construction and Materials — Form of the Combs — Affection
for its Young — Manner of feeding them — Solitary Wasps — Hornets.

AFTER considering the peaceful community of bees,
few perhaps will be tempted to observe the manners
and habits of wasps. The one may be looked upon
as a highly-civilized and humane tribe, resorting to
arms in self-defence alone, and seldom gaining their
bread by violent means — the other as a ferocious
tribe, subsisting solely by rapine and murder, fear-
lessly attacking most other insects, and giving no
quarter to the bee or the fly. The habits of the
common wasp will serve as an example of the rest
of this species which live in society.

The vespiary, or wasp's nest, contains three
classes of wasps ; females, neuters armed with
stings, and males destitute of this weapon. They
are all workers. Different kinds of wasps choose
different places to construct their nests ; some ex-
posing them to all the inclemencies of the weather,
others sheltering them in a hollow of a tree, or a
hole carefully dug in the ground. The latter is the
case with the common wasp. A kind of covered
and tortuous gallery leads to the subterranean city;
in this there are large spaces, which may be likened
to our public places, streets, and houses, all symme-
trically arranged, and though not evincing the ex-
quisite economy of the bee, yet deserving much
commendation: the city itself is surrounded by a
wall, composed of a substance which in texture very
closely resembles the paper in ordinary use ; this

CH. VI.] THE COMMON WASP. 101

frail material is, however, so artfully arranged and
compacted, as effectually to exclude the rain.

The mode in which this envelope is fabricated de-
serves attention: when the wasps wish to thicken it,
they build another layer upon the one already formed ;
each of these layers is about as thick as a sheet of
ordinary paper; several wasps are simultaneously
employed in extending or thickening the layer, and
this is done without confusion and with great cele-
rity. Having procured from abroad the material
required for their work, they moisten it, convert it
into a paste, and roll it into a ball ; this ball is then
taken to the part of the edifice which stands in need
of repairing; the insect, then lays it down, and
running backwards, extends the ball into a thread ;
this thread it then unites to the rest, by repassing
over it and consolidating it with great care. The
exterior figure of the vespiary is not unlike a large
Indian-rubber bottle ; the surface, however, instead
of being polished and smooth, seems as if composed
of oyster-shells tacked to one another. It is not
uniform in colour, owing to the variety of vegetable
fibre used in fabricating the substance of which it is
formed ; and when finished is about two inches thick.
There are generally two holes, each large enough
to admit only one wasp at a time; these are the
gates of the city, and, according to Reaumur, one
of them serves for ingress, the other for egress;
such is the order observed, that the uses of the re-
spective doors are rarely if ever changed.

If a section of the nest be made, the first thing to
be observed is, that the envelope or wall is not solid,
but formed of layers of paper, between which there
is a considerable interval. By this means, not only
economy of materials is consulted, but the rain can-
not penetrate so easily as if the whole wTere solid.

The combs are parallel to each other, and to the
horizon ; they are composed of the paper-like ma-
terial already described ; the cells are hexagonal;

NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VI.

1 The exterior of the vespiary.

2 Interior of the same.

3 The position of a pillar.

but differ in this respect from those of the bee, that
one comb contains only one set of cells, whereas,
it will be remembered, the bee contrives to have a
double row in each comb. The cells contain neither
honey nor wax, but arc solely constructed to lodge
the young; the combs are of unequal dimensions,
regulated by the diameters of the various parts of
the globular envelope, the uppermost not being per-
haps more than two inches, while that which is
placed in the middle measures twelve inches in dia-
meter. It is calculated that, on an average, a ves-
piary may contain about sixteen thousand cells,
which, as they are filled thrice in each year, will
give some idea of the prodigious fertility of these
creatures.

CH. VI.] THE COMMON WASP. 103

There is an interval of half an inch between each
comb. Although the combs are fixed to the side of
the nest, they would not be sufficiently strong with-
out farther support; the ingenious builders, there-
fore, connect each comb to that below it, by a num-
ber of strong cylindrical columns or pillars, having,
according to the rules of architecture, their base and
capital wider than the shaft, and composed of the
same paper-like material used in other parts of the
nest, but of a more compact substance. A rustic
colonnade, consisting of no less than forty or fifty
such columns, connects the middle combs ; for the
upper and lower combs being of less dimensions
and weight, a smaller number suffices. In order to
get at these combs, the wasps take care to leave a
void space between them and the extreme envelope.

Cruel and ferocious as these insects may appear,
still their affection for their habitation and young is
very striking. Whatever injury may be done to the
nest, if it should be even broken to pieces, they will
linger about the cherished spot, or quit it only to fol-
low the combs wherever they may be transferred.
" Those," says Reaumur, " which were absent
when I removed the nest, finding, on their return,
neither companions nor home, knew not where to
go, and for days together hovered around the hole
before they determined to abandon the spot." The
material from which the nest is constructed is vege-
table fibre. The wasp will not use sawdust ; but,
knowing that a filamentous material, like linen rags,
is necessary for the fabrication of its paper, it
amasses pieces of some substance possessing this
quality. As the first step in the process of paper-
making is to soak the vegetable fibre in water, so
the wasp takes special care to select the filaments
which it intends to use from wet wood which has
rotted in the rain. These are worked up with a
glutinous secretion, and thus the material is pre-
pared. When the wasp can get its paper ready-

|04 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VI.

made, it makes no scruple to appropriate it. Reau-
mur, being once disturbed by a noise in his study,
found that it arose from the gnawing of a piece of
paper which these insects had attacked. A few
only of the community are architects ; the rest hav-
ing other appropriate employments. The females,
for there are as many as three hundred, unlike the
queen-bee, do not pass their lives in receiving the
homage of their subjects, but perform every species
of labour. The neuters, however, as among bees,
are the true workers. They build the nest, and fo-
rage for food for the males, females, and the young.
The worms are not locked up in a cell surrounded
with food, but require to be fed, like the young of
birds. " I saw," says Reaumur, " a female wasp,
which had entered the vespiary with the belly of an
insect ; this she contrived by degrees to swallow,
after which she ran to various celts, and, disgorging
that which she had eaten, distributed it among the
brood of worms." Hence it appears, that it not
only procured the food, but prepared it by a partial
digestion. The wasp ie particularly fond of the
belly of the bee ; it is a choice bit which it eagerly
seeks. It will watch for hours at the door of a
bee»hive, pounce upon some unfortunate bee which
is about to enter, and tumbling it to the ground, in
a trice separate, with its two serrated teeth, the
tender abdomen, containing the soft intestines and
the honey-bag, from the dry and hard chest of the
insect : having secured its prey, it hurries away to
its habitation. The large blue-bottle fly is another
delicate morsel greatly coveted by the wasp ; and
so well aware are some butchers of the service done
by the wasps in preventing the fly from blowing
their meat, that they bribe them to their stalls with
pieces of liver. As soon as its appetite is satisfied,
either by flesh or fruit, the worker carries to the
nest a portion of its prey. When the insect enters
the common dwelling, those whose labours kep*

CH. VI.] THE COMMON WASP. 105

them at home surround it, and take their share
without dispute or combat. Those which feed on
fruit seem to return empty-handed, as they do not
carry off solid substances. However, Reaumur ob-
served that even these had not forgotten the neces-
sities of their comrades. Having entered the nest,
they disgorged a clear drop, which was sucked with
avidity by one or two hungry workers ; when this
was consumed, a second, and even a third supply
was furnished. They seem to vary the quality of
the food according to the age of the larvae. Reau-
mur mentions a young Comte de Ohatelu, who en-
deavoured to bring up some young wasps by hand,
feeding them with honey; but a great mortality
took place among them, from the want of knowledge
as to the quantity and quality of the food fit for
them. As soon as the young become large, they
prepare for their metamorphosis, and they them-
selves like the larva of the hive bee, clo'fte the cell
with a silky covering. About three weeks elapse
between the laying of the egg and the evolution of
the perfect insect. As soon as the cell is vacated,
the males, who are the scavengers of the commu-
nity, cleanse and prepare the habitation for a new
tenant.

All this mass of building, the columns, and the
walls, though the labour of several months, lasts
but one year : thronged as it is in summer, its thou-
sands quickly perish; a few only linger there in a
torpid state during the winter. Those which sur-
vive the cold are females, destined to continue the
species. These are born in the autumn, at the same
time as the males, and, becoming impregnated, lay
in spring. Each founds a new republic. Alone,
unattended by a single guard or friend, the female
wasp builds a few solitary cells, and lays in them
the eggs of neuters. These are necessary to carry
on the labour of the nest, and commence their toils
within a few hours after their last metamorphosis

106 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VI.

If the queen-bee be compared with the mother-
wasp, the latter will gain by the contrast. "If
glory be known to insects," says Reaumur, — "if
solid glory be measured among- them, as among us,
by the difficulties surmounted, the female wasp is a
heroine to whom the queen-bee is in no way com-
parable. When the latter leaves her hive to seek a
new sovereignty, she is accompanied by many thou-
sand workers, industrious, laborious, and ready to
execute all that is necessary for the welfare of the
new establishment ; while the female wasp, alone
and single-handed, lays the foundations of her new
republic. It is she who has to seek or make a hole,
when she cannot find one ready-made to her pur-
pose, to build in k cells to receive the eggs, and to
nourish the young after they have been evolved."

It might perhaps be thought natural that several
females, born in the same hive, should assist each
other in laying the foundations of the new city.
But for some unknown reasons this consorting of
females is alien to the genius of these insects ; and
in the present case nothing would be gained by it.
Each female is under the necessity of providing for
her own eggs ; hence she could not help her neigh-
bour. The neuters all perish when the first cold
weather sets in; nay, all the young, which have
not arrived at maturity, are, on the approach of
winter, dragged from their cells and massacred, to
prevent perhaps a more cruel and protracted death
by famine or frost.

The ferocity of the wasp is otherwise rarely ex-
ercised on its own kind; the nest never presents
those terrible combats and massacres which take
place in the hive. Occasionally the neuters fight
with each other; or a neuter sometimes fights with
a male ; but, according to Reaumur, the result is
rarely fatal. — Even towards man, this tribe of in-
sects is peaceably disposed. The celebrated natu-
ralist just mentioned states, that they will not

CH. VI.] HORNETS. 107

attack those who are content to observe them simply ;
and he adds, that he has seen ladies who had be-
come familiar enough with them to allow them to
settle on their hands.

The hornet is the largest of the wasp tribe, and
were its motions at all equal to its strength, ferocity,
and the venom of its poison, it would be a tiger
among insects. It is a most unmerciful enemy of
the hive bee, whose carcass forms the food of its
young ; and its sting is very dangerous even to the
human race. Reaumur states, that " Don Allan
Chartreux, having imprudently disturbed a hornets*
nest was stung by one, which caused so much pain
as to almost make him faint. He reached his con-
vent with difficulty, and remained for three days in
a state of fever."

The manners, habitation, &c. of these and the
other social wasps are essentially the same. They
all build their nests from a sort of paper more or
less fine, and in all several females live peaceably
together.

The Vespa Nidulans of Fabricius, a foreign spe-
cies of wasp, appends its nest to a branch (jig* 1).
It first forms a thick pasteboard case, which com-
pletely withstands the seasons, and within this it
places layers of combs partitioned off with surpris-
ing regularity. The access to the cells is by means
of a hollow "and round passage, which runs along
the centre of the whole nest.

To make cells is the same thing as to make a
comb, with the hornet and the wasp; not so with
this species : the mere juxtaposition of cells does
not constitute a comb. After making the outside
covering, they partition it off into shelves, and to
these it is that the cells are appended (Jig* 2).

The Vespa Gallica of Linnaeus attaches its nest
to a stubble, or a small branch in a bush ; the form
is elegant, being composed of one or two cakes, and
twenty or thirty cells ; it is placed vertically, and

108

NATURAL HISTORY.

[CH. VI.

Nest of Vespa Nidulans.

Fig. 1 gives a miniature representation of one of these curious re
ceptacles : the bottom has been torn off, so as to show one of the cakes

Fig: 2 shows the internal arrangement of the combs, as well as the
centrical orifice perforating all of them, serving as a door of admission
to the little wasp.

the whole bears a considerable resemblance to the
centre of the sunflower. The vertical position ap-
pears to be the best adapted to guard against rain ;
but as an additional security, the little architect
carefully covers its paper habitation with a varnish
insoluble in water ; and thus protected, it can dis-
pense with the precaution of concealing its nest,

CH. VI.] THE SOLITARY WASP. 109

like the other species of wasps. It may be remarked
that the cells of all the wasps we have described are
not perfectly hexagonal, being wider at their orifice
than at their base.

If the wasps which live in society may dispute
with the hive bee in genius, address, in the patient
endurance of labour, and in tenderness to rear their
young, those which lead a solitary life yield in
nothing deserving of admiration to bees of ana-
logous habits.

The solitary wasps, like the social ones, feed on
fruits or flesh, and are for the most part what may
be emphatically termed insects of prey.

There is a little creature called Vespa muraria
by Linnaeus, which builds a curious nest for its
young, and supplies them in a very singular man-
ner with living food; it is about the size of a com-
mon worker-wasp.

Towards the end of May, and during the whole
of the month of June, it is busily employed in
building cells. Its whole object is to form a cir-
cular hole a few inches deep, and in diameter not
much exceeding that of its own body. In this
cavity only a single egg is deposited; several of
these cells are of course necessary for the pur-
poses of the same female.

The spot chosen by this mason-wasp is usually a
wall or some sandy place ; sometimes, however, the
cell is dug in the earth.

On a particular occasion, Reaumur had con-
structed a set of boxes, which he had filled with
sand for the purpose of observing at leisure the
manners of the formica Zeo, or ant-lion ; in one of
these the sand had become quite hard, so that,
although he made every possible allowance for the
excellent teeth of the little wasp, yet he thought
that to gnaw into that which was as hard as a com-
mon stone, was an undertaking which exceeded its
power. He observed, however, that the little crea-
L-K

110 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VI.

ture did not trust to its teeth alone ; but first voided
a liquid drop on the spot, and by this means soft-
ened the material which it wanted for use. Then
having recourse to its teeth, it detached a morsel
from the mass, and taking it up in its two fore-legs,
kneaded it into a mortar. With such materials, and
so gathered, the insect commences its operations.

In the following figure several tubes are seen
jutting out of the mass ; although formed with great
care and art, and evidently manifesting design, they
are not made to last ; they are no more than tem-
porary elevations raised over the excavation in the
wall or sand, and are destined to be destroyed as
soon as the latter is completed.

o, &, c, d, e, exhibit the formation of the tubes in various stages.

The little pieces of moistened sand and earth first
gathered, are placed in a circle, which serves to
mark out the dimensions of the hole. As the in-
sect continues to dig, it adds to the length of the
tube, and when it has completed the excavation, it

CH. VI. J THE SOLITARY WASP. 1 1 1

has also completed its tube. The egg- is then laid,
and the hole carefully filled up and covered with the
very sand with which the projecting tube had been
made ; the worker is sometimes compelled to leave
its work, for the little stock of fluid with which the
sand was moistened becomes frequently exhausted,
and both Reaumur and Latreille conjecture that it
fetches a fresh supply from a neighbouring rivulet,
or perhaps sucks a gluing juice from some plant
or tree.

"I have remarked," says the former naturalist,
" that in about an hour a wasp excavated a hole as
long as its body, and raised above it a cylinder of
equal length : it does not appear that there is a de-
terminate depth for every hole, nor are the tubes
either of the same length ; some are carried on to
the length of two inches, and some fall short of one."

The wasp, no doubt, has a reason for all this : the
very fact of the diversity proves a choice ; but what
are the reasons which impel it to take the trouble
of building a hollow tube out of the material ex
cavated ] why not throw away the rubbish 1

The following are Reaumur's conjectures : —

" In following this wasp while at work, we can
.discover at least one of the uses to which the tube
is subservient : the materials of the tube are to the
mason-wasp what the heap of mortar is to the
brick-layer ; the whole depth of the hole is not ne-
cessary to lodge one egg, a portion of it being suffi-
cient for that purpose. It is proper, however, that
the depth should be considerable, lest the rays of
the sun should impart too much heat to an egg
placed too near the surface. The wasp knows how
much of it ought to be left unfilled, the rest is closed
with the same sand which had been abstracted in
digging it ; and it is in order to have this, as it were,
at hand, that the insect takes the pains of forming
the tube.

" But it may be asked, why take the trouble of

112 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VI.

making a tube ? why not simply heap up the sand
dug out ? When you see the work, you perceive
that it has scarcely more trouble in fixing- the little
heap of mortar to the tube, than would be encoun-
tered in casting1 it out; and it is more easy to
arrange the little mass in the cylindrical form, than
to construct a pyramid on a vertical wall, where for
the most part these tubes are found.

" This tube has perhaps other uses. While the
wasp is absent, some ichneumon fly might come
and deposite in its nest an egg enclosing an insect
fatal to its young. The ichneumon will not so
readily enter a hole, when, to approach it, it is neces-
sary to make a long journey, and pass a tube which
prevents it from seeing if the wasp be absent. I
have observed one, which, after much hesitation,
turned and re-turned around the mouth of the tube,
and at last ventured in ; 1 also saw that this was
very mal d propos, for the wasp happening to be at
home, presented itself before the ichneumon, who
had believed it out of the way, so that there was
nothing left for the latter but to take speedily to
flight."

If the hole be opened after the wasp has closed it,
it will be found filled with a number of caterpillars,
neatly rolled and packed together, but these, though
aAive, have not the power of motion. Thus, from
the moment it is evolved from the egg, the little
carnivorous offspring of the wasp can attack its
prey, and eat into them without any danger or dis-
turbance from creatures, which, in comparison to
itself, are giants in size.

Being lodged at the bottom of the cell, with a
dozen worms packed up over its head, the larva of
the wasp begins to attack the one immediately
above; it sucks with such avidity, that Reaumur
experienced some difficulty in withdrawing it from
the caterpillar. Indeed, all that the voracious worm
has to do, until the period of its metamorphosis, is

CV V.]

THE SOLITARY WASP.

113

a The green caterpillar.
b The grub feeding on one.
r. The orifice leading to a cell.
d A vacated cell.

to eat. Reaumur took the trouble of ascertaining-
the quantity consumed, and found that, taking one
day with another, one caterpillar a day was not too
much.

Here we meet with another instance of that sin-
gular faculty, by which the mother wasp is enabled
to apportion the exact quantity of food to the wants
of her offspring. To some she gives twelve cater-
pillars, to others a less number, but in this case
they are of a larger size. Moreover, the food is
always of the same kind; for during the twelve
years in which Reaumur observed their manners, he
invariably found the same species of caterpillar en-
closed by these insects.

The caterpillars are entombed alive ; but the poi-
son of the sting appears to render them insensible ;
at least this is the conjecture : some, therefore, must
remain without food for a fortnight, the period
K2

114 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VI.

which the larva of the wasp takes to prepare for its
metamorphosis. How is it that they do not perish?
It is a circumstance well worth remarking, that
these caterpillars are all of the same size, and
all therefore of the same age. It is not to save her-
self the trouble of multiplying her journeys that the
mother wasp chooses them of a large size, for it is
evident that a greater degree of trouble is required
to select, than to take at hazard worms of any size.
Reaumur conjectures that the wasp is guided by her
instincts to choose only those caterpillars which
have attained their full growth, and are capable, in
consequence, of sustaining a longer fast. Had they
been placed in the nest at a younger age, when their
appetite called for a plentiful supply of food, it is
evident they must have perished ; and thus the mo-
ther-wasp would have enclosed the cherished worm
in an offensive sewer instead of a cradle furnished
with an ample store of appropriate food.

The mode, too, in which the caterpillars are de-
posited is worthy of observation. Had they been
huddled together, the worm, instead of finishing the
one immediately above, before it attacked the rest,
might have nibbled and killed the whole batch, with-
out consuming any one entirely, and thus have de-
stroyed the caterpillars, and consequently brought
on the putrefaction of the food, and so have been
doomed to live on carcasses or perish among them.
The entrance to the nest is just wide enough to ad-
mit the mother-wasp: when she carries in a cater-
pillar, she first unrolls it, and holds it in a line under
her own belly, and then depositing it at the bottom
of the cell, the creature of itself rolls into a ring,
the wasp merely taking care to press it down.
Reaumur found that the larva spins a cocoon, and
remains in it ten or eleven months; it then eats its
way through the nest, and comes forth a perfect
insect.

There are var'^us species of American wasps

CH. VI. J THE SOLITARY WASP. 115

which feed their young with spiders, cock-roaches,
flies, and other perfect insects. An observer, who
had carefully studied their habits, says, that their
mode of working- is much alike, and it is very di-
verting to see them at it: their art and contrivance
are wonderful, and appears as if they were given
them to cheer them at their labour. They make a
very particular musical noise, the sound of which
may be heard at ten yards' distance. Their manner
of working- is, to moisten clay and temper it up into
a little lump of the size of swan-shot. This they
carry to build with. They begin first at the upper
end of the cell and work downwards till it is long
enough to contain the nymph or chrysalis : after
they have spread out their little lump in a proper
manner to form their little fabric, they set up their
musical notes, and return to temper and work up
more clay for the next course. Thus they con-
tinue alternately singing and working until a cell is
finished, which is made delicately smooth within-
side : then, at the farther end of each cell they lay
an egg : after this, by a surprising instinct, they go
and catch spiders and cram the cell full of them ;
but it is farther wonderful to observe, that they only
in some manner disable the spiders, but do not kill
them, which is to answer this purpose, that they are
preserved alive till the egg is hatched. The spider
is the food of the embryo ; having stored up a suffi-
ciency of this provender, the insect closes the cell
and proceeds to build the next in the same manner.
The maggot, having eaten up all its provisions be-
fore October, prepares for its change. It lies all
the winter in its chrysalis state, and in the spring
eats its way out of its clay dwelling.

Cassigni furnished Reaumur with an interesting
account of the mode in which another of these
wasps attacks and kills the cock-roach, so injurious
to the housewives of tropical countries. The wasp
is seen walking or flying about in various directions,

116 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VI.

evidently on the look-out for game ; as soon as it
discovers a cock-roach, it remains fixed for a few
seconds, during which the two insects appear to eye
each other. The wasp, then pouncing on its prey,
seizes it by the muzzle ; it then insinuates its body
under that of the cock-roach, and inflicts a wound.
As soon as the wasp feels sure that the fatal poison
has been introduced into the body of its enemy, the
insect appears to be aware of its effect, and takes a
turn or two to give it time to work. Having thus
departed for a few instants, it returns, and is sure
to find the cock-roach motionless on the spot where
it had been left. Naturally timid, the cock-roach
appears to be at this juncture totally incapable of
resistance, and suffers its enemy to seize its head
and drag it backwards towards a little hole situate
in the next wall. Sometimes the way is long*, and
then the wasp stops and takes a turn or two to
breathe and recruit its strength ere it proceeds to
finish its task. Sometimes it lays down the unre-
sisting cock-roach and makes its way alone to the
nest, probably to reconnoitre whether any obstacles
impede the way: returning in a few moments, it
again lays hold of its prey. M. Cassigni, having,
during the absence of the wasp, removed the cock-
roach to a little distance, was highly amused with
the restless embarrassment of this creature, when
the prey seemed to have been thus snatched from
its gripe. But the cock-roach having been ulti-
mately dragged to the den of the insect, the hardest
part of its task was yet to be accomplished ; for the
aperture by which the wasp could enter was by no
means roomy enough to admit the larger frame of
the cock-roach : the insect, however, went in, and
applied its utmost force to drag its prey in after.
But these efforts were too often quite unsuccessful.
The remedy adopted in this dilemma would not have
disgraced a reasonable creature. It quietly lopped
off the wings and legs of the cock-roach, and thus

CH. VI.] THE SOLITARY WASP. 117

iiminished the bulk of the animal, without depriving
the young- worm of any part of the food destined
for its support. Those solitary wasps effect every
thing- by main force ; they seldom or never resort
to stratagem, but boldly, and with the most im-
petuous courage, pounce at once upon their prey.
Sometimes they light upon certain species of spi-
ders which fabricate no web, but hunt about fields
in pursuit of game. In the hope of catching some
unwary fly, the treacherous spider counterfeits
death ; when the wasp darts on it with a blow, and
rising into the air, amputates all the limbs of its
victim.

There is one species of these insects which carry
on an exterminating warfare against the honey and
the solitary bees. As soon as one of these bee-
devouring wasps has prepared in the sand a little
hole destined to become a habitation for its own
young, and a grave for the bee, it makes towards
those flowers to which its prey resort ; the moment
one of these little creatures has been perceived by
the wasp, it darts on its victim with the rapidity of
lightning, and with one blow of its sting puts an
end to its industrious and useful career.

As each female, says Latreille, lays five or six
eggs, it follows that she destroys as many bees. In
a space one hundred and twenty feet long, he counted
fifty or sixty females preparing their nests; conse-
quently they would kil) three hundred bees. Now
supposing a surface of ground of two square
leagues infested in fifty places by a small number
of these apivorous females, they would destroy
within this range fifteen thousand bees.

Reaumur says, that in the woods and plains of
the Isle of France no hive-bees are to be found —
while they abound and yield much honey in the
Isle of Bourbon ; and the absence of this useful in-
sect is perhaps justly attributed to the great number
of wasps which infest the former island.

118 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

CHAPTER VII.

Their Industry— Affection for their Young— Courage— Their Anger-
Unite in Myriads for War and Extermination— The Fallow Ants —
The Sanguine Ants — The Legionary Ants — Attack other Ants, and
reduce them to Slavery.

THE history of the insects now to be described
presents examples of an industry which has become
proverbial, and traits of affection and feeling which
would do honour to our own species. Love and
courage, patience and perseverance, almost all the
higher virtues of human nature, when arrived at
the highest pitch of earthly perfection, seem to be
the ordinary springs of action in the ant.

Of ants, as of other social insects, the largest
portion of the community consists of neuters ; be-
ings possessing the most exquisite sentiments of
maternity unalloyed by passion ; so that from their
birth to their death they live, think, and act only for
the offspring of another.

The instincts of this insect are, indisputably,
more extraordinary than those of any other in the
whole range of animated nature. The ancients
magnified them into fabulous miracles. Pliny talks
of an Indian ant as big as an Egyptian wolf, of the
colour of a cat, which entered the bowels of the
earth in search of gold, of which they are said to
have been plundered during the winter by the human
inhabitants of those regions.

But exaggeration and credulity apart, the real
habits and proceedings of these insects are so ex-
traordinary, that they would stagger our belief, if
not confirmed by such observers as Huber and La-
treille.
, Their nests contain three kinds of individuals —

~TH. VII. J ANTS. 119

males ; females, which have wings ; and neuters,
which are destitute of these appendages.

" In the warm days which occur from the end of
July to the beginning of September, and sometimes
later, the habitations of the various species of ants
may be seen swarming with winged insects ; these
are the males and females, preparing to quit forever
the scene of their nativity and education. Every
thing is in motion ; and the silver wings, contrasted
with the jet bodies which compose the animated
mass, add a degree of splendour to the interesting
scene. The bustle increases, till at length the males
rise, as it were, by general impulse into the air, and
the females accompany them : the whole swarm al-
ternately rises and falls with a slow movement, to
the height of about ten feet ; the males flying ob-
liquely with a rapid zigzag motion, and the females,
though following the general movement of the
column, appearing suspended in the air, like bal-
loons ; and having their heads turned towards the
wind."

Sometimes the swarm of a whole district unite
their infinite myriads, and seen at a distance, says
M. Gliditsch,* produce an effect very much resem-
bling an aurora borealis, when from the border of
the cloud appear several columns of flame and va-
pour, attended with a variety of luminous rays and

* A species of ant, called by Linnaeus the formica sacchivora, ap-
peared in such torrents in the island of Granada, and destroyed the
sugar-canes so completely by undermining their roots, that a reward of
£20,000 was offered to aiiy one who should discover an effectual mode
of destroying them.

They descended from the hills in a flood, arid filled not only the plan-
tation, but the roads for miles. Domestic quadrupeds perished ; and
rats, mice, and reptiles, were devoured by them, and even birds were
so harassed when they alighted as quickly to die. Nothing opposed
their match : they blindly rushed into the streams and were drowned
in such countless myriads, that the aggregation of their tiny carcasses
dammed up the waters, and formed a bridge for others to pass over.
The large fires lighted in their paihs were speedily extinguished by the
rush of their masses, and had not Providence swept them away in the
torrents of a terrible hurricane in 1780, every thing must have fallen
before them — Introducti&n to Entomology , vol. i. p. 185.

120 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. VII

lines, resembling forked lightning confined in its
brilliancy. The noise emitted by the countless
myriads of these creatures is not so loud as the hum
of a single wasp, and the slightest breath scatters
them abroad. In the midst of these numberless
males the females become fecundated, and the
greater portion of the former sex immediately pe-
rishing, become the food of birds or of fish. So
numerous are they, that Dr. Bromley says they
formed a column on the water where they had fallen,
five or six miles long, eight or ten feet broad, and
six inches deep.

The females which escape are destined to found
new colonies, and at first to do all the work of
neuters ; in this particular resembling the mother
wasp : but prior to their constructing a new habi-
tation, they make themselves voluntary prisoners,
by throwing off their wings. So extraordinary a
dismemberment requires to be supported by the tes-
timony of an eye-witness.

Accordingly, Huber, who made the experiment,
states, "that having induced an ant to mount a
straw, he placed it on a table sprinkled with a little
earth, and covered it with a glass bell ; scarcely did
she perceive the earth which covered the bottom
of her abode, when she extended her wings, with
some effort bringing them before her head, crossing
them in every direction, throwing them from side
to side, and producing so many singular contortions,
that her four wings fell off at the same moment, in
his presence. After this change, she reposed,
brushed her corslet, traversed the ground, evidently
seeking a place of shelter; she partook of the
honey he gave her, and at last found a hiding-place
under some loose earth."

Huber might well be astonished at the coolness
with which the female ant appeared to throw off
her wings : one would have thought that as much
proportionate suffering would have been felt in her

CH. VII.] ANTS. 121

tiny frame from the loss of these members, as in
ours from the amputation of all our limbs ; but in-
sects in general do not appear to be sensible of
much pain. A wasp will walk about and even eat
after its body has been cut into two, and a dragon
fly will voraciously devour its prey after the removal
of its abdomen.

Having cast off her wings, the fecundated female
begins to prepare a habitation for herself. In some
cases, however, the workers do not allow all the
females to quit the old nest ; but detaining some of
those which have been impregnated, clip their wings
and keep them close prisoners so long, that at last
they become reconciled to their fate, and prepare to
lay eggs. As if still afraid that the impregnated
female should depart, a single ant is appointed to
watch her motions and supply her wants ; no Argus
appears to be more vigilant : it mounts on her ab-
domen, resting its two posterior legs on the ground:
these sentinels are constantly relieved. As soon as
an egg is deposited, the female becomes the object
of the tender care of the neuters, and as a mother
she receives those attentions which she would in
vain have solicited as a virgin. A court, composed
of from ten to fifteen individuals, says Huber, con-
tinually follows her; she is unceasingly the object
of their care and caresses ; all are eager to collect
around her, offer her nourishment, and assist her
with their mandibles in making her way through
difficult and ascending passages ; they also lead her
through all the different quarters of the ant-hill.
The eggs taken up by the labourers at the instant
of their being laid, are collected around her. When
she seeks repose, a group of ants environ her ; se-
veral females live in the same nest, and show no
rivalry ; each has her court, they pass each other
uninjured, and sustain in common the population
of the ant-hill ; but they possess no power, which
it would seem is lodged exclusively with the neuters.
L— L

122 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. VII.

" In whatever apartment," says Gould, " a queen
condescends to be present, she commands obedience
and respect ; a universal gladness spreads itself
throughout the whole cell, which is expressed by
particular acts of joy and exultation. They have a
peculiar way of skipping- and leaping, and standing
upon their hind-legs, and prancing with the others.
These frolics they make use of, both to congratulate
each other when they meet, and to show their regard
for their queen; some of them gently walk over
her, others dance around her, and she is generally
encircled with a cluster of attendants."

Their affection is extended, it would appear from
Huber, even beyond life ; for when a pregnant fe-
male dies, five or six labourers rest near her, and for
some days lick and brush her constantly, either with
a hope to revive that little particle of cherished dust,
or as a tribute of their instinctive love for the de-
parted.

If we observe the ant-hill, we shall see so many
traits of this affection of the worker towards the
female, as to satisfy us that the imprisonment and
mutilation she had undergone at the hands of the
former are dictated alone by that instinct which
prompts the ant to continue its kind. The republic
of ants is not annually dissolved like that of bees
and wasps.

Attachment to the female is not the only instance
of affection evinced by these insects ; they, as well
bees, appear to recognise each other even after a long
absence. Huber, having taken an ant-hill from the
woods, placed it in his glass hive ; finding that he
had a superabundance of ants, he allowed some of
them to escape, and these formed a nest in his gar-
den. Those which were in the hive he carried into
his study, and observed their habits for four months,
after which period he placed the hive in the garden
within fifteen paces of the natural nest. Immedi-
ately, the ants established in it recognised their for-

CH. VII.] ANTS. 123

mer companions, with whom they had held no com-
munication for four months ; they caressed them
with their antennae, and taking- them up in their
mandibles, led them to their own nest. Presently
others arrived in crowds and carried off the fugitives
in a similar manner ; and venturing into the artificial
ant-hill, in a few days caused such a desertion that
it was wholly depopulated.

The above anecdote seems to prove that ants have
a language of dumb signs, of which the organs are
the antennae. As yet, the proofs of this antennal
language have been drawn from the affections of
these creatures, but more striking ones are derived
from their passions. For there are few animals
in which the passions assume a more deep and
threatening aspect ; they unite them in myriads for
the purposes of war and extermination.

It would perhaps be too much to say, that the war-
fare which takes place among ants calls forth bright
traits of character, and occasions the exercise of
virtues, which under no other combination of cir-
cumstances could be exhibited. Yet Latreille, after
he had cut off the antennae of an ant, saw another
approach it as if compassionating the loss of a
member as dear to the owner as the pupil of our eye
to us, and after caressing the sufferer, pour into the
wound a drop of a liquid from its own mouth.

The causes which give rise to these wars are, no
doubt, as important to them as those which urge
human monarchs to devastate, and human heroes to
struggle for victory. The ants will dispute furiously
about a few square feet of dust ; and such an object
is of equal magnitude and importance to them, as a
river, or a mountain, to an emperor. Sometimes a
straw, the carcass of a worm, a single grain of
wheat, will cause myriads to engage in deadly strife,
and leave the miserable inches of surrounding earth
thickly strewed with the pigmy dead. Sometimes
a nobler aim will cause them to defend to the utter-

124 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

most their homes and their young, from the ma-
rauding" ambition of a neighbouring- hill. " Alas !"
says Bacon, " the earth with men upon it will not
seem much other than an ant-hill, where some ants
carry corn, and some carry their young-, and some
go empty, and all to and fro around a little heap of
dust."

" If we wish to behold," says P. Huber, " regular
armies wage war in all its forms, we must visit the
forests in which the fallow ants establish their do-
minion over every insect within their territory : we
shall there see populous and rival cities and regular
roads, diverging from the ant-hill, like so many
radii from a centre, and frequented by an immense
number of combatants; wars between hordes of the
same species, for they are naturally enemies, and
jealous of any encroachment upon the territory
which surrounds their capital. It is in these forests
I have witnessed the inhabitants of two large ant-
hills engaged in a spirited combat; two empires
could not have brought into the field a more nume-
rous or more determined body of combatants.

" Both armies met half-way from their respective
habitations, and the battle commenced : thousands
of ants took their stations upon the highest ground,
and fought in pairs, keeping firm hold of their an-
tagonists by their mandibles ; while a considerable
number were engaged in the attack, others were
leading away prisoners ; the latter made several in-
effectual endeavours to escape, as if aware that
upon reaching the camp a cruel death awaited them.
The field of battle occupied a space of about
three feet square : a penetrating odour exhaled on
all sides ; and numbers of dead ants were seen co-
vered with venom. The ants composing groups
and chains laid hold of each others legs and pincers,
and dragged their antagonists on the ground ; these
groups formed successively. The fight usually com-
meneed between two ants, who, seizing each other

CH. VII.] ANTS. 125

by the mandibles, raised themselves upon their hind-
legs, to allow of their bringing their abdomen for-
ward, and spurting their venom upon their adversary :
they were frequently so wedged together, that they
fell on their sides, and fought a long time in that
situation in the dust : shortly afterward they raised
themselves, when each began dragging its adversary ;
but when their force happened to be equal, the
wrestlers remained immoveable, and fixed each
other to the ground, until a third carne to decide the
contest. It more commonly happened that both
ants received assistance at the same time, when the
whole four, keeping firm hold of a foot or antenna,
made ineffectual attempts to win the battle. In this
way they sometimes formed groups of six, eight, or
ten, firmly locked all together ; the group was only
broken, when several warriors from the same re-
public advanced at the same time, and compelled
the enchained insects to let go their hold, and then
the single combats were renewed : on the approach
of night, each party retired gradually to their own
city.

" On the following day, before dawn, the ants re-
turned to the field of battle — the groups again formed
— the carnage recommenced with greater fury than
on the preceding evening, and the scene of combat
occupied a space of six feet by two : the event re-
mained for a long time doubtful ; about midday the
contending armies had removed to the distance of a
dozen feet from one of their cities, whence, I con-
clude, that some ground had been gained : the ants
fought so desperately, that they did not even perceive
my presence, and though I remained close to the
armies, not a single combatant climbed up my legs.

The ordinary operations of the two cities were
not suspended, and in all the immediate vicinity of
the ant-hills order and peace prevailed ; on that side
on which the battle raged alone were seen crowds
of these insects running to and fro, some to join the
L2

126 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. Vll.

combatants, and some to escort the prisoners. This
war terminated without any disastrous results to
either of the two republics ; long-continued rains
shortened its duration, and each band of warriors
ceased to frequent the road which led to the enemy's
camp."

The astonishing part of this singular detail is, the
instinct which enables each ant to know its own
party. Of the same species, alike in form, size, fa-
culties, and arms, it yet rarely happens that two of
the same side attack each other; and when this
takes place, says Huber, " those which are the ob-
jects of this temporary error caress their compa-
nions with their antennae, and readily appease their
anger." We can comprehend the existence of an
instinct which shall, at all times, cause an animal to
build its habitation after a distinct fashion, but a
spontaneous combination of faculties seems to take
place in the conduct of these wars. The insects
march, countermarch, take prisoners, distinguish
each other, retreat ; in short, do all that man would
do under similar circumstances. Nothing like the
fatality of instinct is perceptible. These wars were
accidental, might never have happened, and perhaps
only happen in one community out of ten. Neither
are they conducted alike in all cases, but are ob-
viously modified according to the varying circum-
stances of time and place. These very fallow ants,
when they attack the sanguine ants, "for example,
adopt a system of ambuscade and stratagem; and
the sanguine ants, if too hardly pressed, send off a
courier to their ant-hill for farther assistance, and
immediately, says Huber, a considerable detachment
leaves the sanguine city, advances in a body, and
surrounds the enemy.

That ants, being such determined warriors, should
occasionally have games of mimic war is not sur-
prising. " I visited," says Huber, " one of the fal-
low ant-hills, exposed to the sun, and sheltered to

CH. VII.] ANTS. 127

the north : the ants were heaped on one another,
enjoying- the temperature of the surface of the nest ;
none of them were at work. This immense multi-
tude of insects presented the appearance of a liquid
in a state of ebullition, upon which the eye had some
difficulty in resting : but when I examined the con-
duct of each ant, I saw them approach each other,
moving- their antennae with astonishing rapidity;
with slight movements of their fore-feet they patted
the lateral parts of the head of the other ants. After
these gestures, resembling caresses, they were ob-
served to raise themselves on their hind-legs by
pairs, struggle together, seize each other by a man-
dible, foot, or antenna, and then immediately relax
their hold to recommence the attack. They fast-
ened on the thorax, or abdomen, embraced and
overthrew each other, then raised themselves by
turns, taking their revenge without producing any
mischief. They did not spurt forth their venom as
in their hostile combats, nor retain their adversary
with the obstinacy which they manifest in their se-
rious quarrels. I frequently visited this ant-hill,
which almost always presented the same spectacle,
but I never saw any quitting it wounded or maimed :
thus there is reason to believe that, industrious as
they are, the ant has its hours of repose, and its
season for enjoyment ; its serious duties, and its
pleasurable gambols."

Connected with the subject of the warfare of ants
is the history of a species of this insect, not exist-
ing in these islands, called, by Huber, the Amazon,
or Legionary Ant, the Formica rufescens of Latreille.
It is both warlike and powerful, and, unlike the rest
of the tribe, its habits are far from being industrious.
Enough has been said to show that the proceedings
of some insects so nearly resemble human actions,
as to excite our greatest wonder : but the habits of
the legionary ant are still more surprising than
the proceedings of the chiefs which we have just

128 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

described ; it is actually found to be a slave-dealer,
attacking the nests of other species, stealing their
young, rearing them, and thus, by shifting all the
domestic duties of their republic on strangeis, escap-
ing from labour themselves. This curious fact, first
discovered by Huber, has been confirmed by Latre-
ille, and is admitted by all naturalists. The slave
is distinguished from its master by being of a dark
ash-colour, so as to be entitled to the name of Negro,
— an epithet now appropriated to the Formica fusca,
or ash-coloured ants. Their masters are light in
colour. The negro is an industrious, peaceable,
stingless insect ; the legionary, a courageous, armed,
and lazy one. The relation between them is not,
however, that which subsists between a task-master
and his bondsman, but a strong attachment is mutu-
ally felt — another instance of the modification of
instinct, education obliterating in the ash-coloured
ant all its natural antipathy to another species. All
that we know concerning these extraordinary crea-
tures being derived from Mr. P. Huber, the follow-
ing is a short summary of his account.

While walking near Geneva, between four and
five in the evening of the 17th of June, 1804, this
distinguished naturalist observed an army of the
rufescent or legionary ants traversing the road.
The column occupied a space of ten inches in length,
by four in breadth ; they rapidly quitted the road,
passed a thick hedge, entered a pasture-ground,
wound through the grass without breaking the line
of march, and approached a nest inhabited by the
negro or ash-coloured ant. Some of its inhabitants
were guarding the entrance, but on the discovery
of an approaching army, they darted forth on the
advancing party. The alarm was communicated
to the interior, whence their companions rushed in
numbers to join in the defence of their underground
residence. The bulk of the army of the legionaries
about two paces off, now quickened their

CH. VII.] ANTS. 129

march, and in an instant the whole battalion fell
upon and overthrew the negroes, who, after a short
and obstinate conflict, retired and took refuse in the
lowest parts of their nest. The legionaries now
mounted the hillock ; some took possession of the
principal avenues, while others effected a new breach
with their teeth, so as to admit the remainder of the
army. Having thus taken the city by assault, they
remained in it only a few minutes : returning by the
apertures through which they had entered, each
carried in its mouth either a larva, or a pupa, and
scampered away without order or regularity. M.
Huber followed them for some time, but lost sight
of them in a cornfield. Wishing to observe the
assaulted city again, he retraced his steps, and saw
a small number of ash-coloured labourers perched
on the stalks of plants, holding in their mouths the
few larvae which they had succeeded in rescuing
from pillage.

The next morning, Huber, taking the same road,
with the hope of once more seeing a similar scene,
discovered a large ant-hill tenanted by legionaries.
At five in the evening, provided the weather be fine,
and the temperature 67° Fahrenheit in the shade,
these sally out. During the other part of the day
they appear to do little ; but at this hour they be-
come restless, assemble on the outside of the city,
move round it in circles: a signal is then given,
which they pass from one to the other, striking, as
they proceed, with their antennae and forehead, the
breasts of their companions; these, in their turn,
approach those advancing, and communicate the
same signal — it is that of departure — as the result
satisfactorily proves. Those which receive the
intimation are instantly seen to put themselves on
the march; the column becomes organized; and
not a single amazon remains near the garrison.
There is no commander-in-chief, every ant is in turn
first, each seeking to be foremost. A small number

J30 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

may, however, be observed constantly returning to
the rear : this is probably the means by which the
whole army is governed.

With such dispositions, manoeuvres, and disci
pline, Huber saw an army of legionaries set out
for a negro city. With their usual impetuosity of
attack, one party soon entered, and returned laden
with the young of the assailed ant-hill ; a second
detachment, not meeting with equal success, sepa-
rated from their companions, and fell on another
negro colony, where they met with ample booty;
after which the whole number of legionaries marched
to their nest in two divisions. As they approached,
Huber saw, to his astonishment, a great number of
the very same species which had been pillaged, all
around the nest of the legionaries. Was this a di-
version made by carrying the war into the enemy's
territory ? No : the return of the legionaries ex-
cited no alarm; on the contrary, the negro ants
were seen to approach these warriors, caress them
with their antennae, offer them nourishment, as is
the custom among their own species, while the
legionaries consigned their prisoners to them to be
carried to the interior of the nest.

In this way the same negro colony was observed
to be attacked three several times, and each time
with complete success; the last attack, however,
was made under different circumstances from the
first two : the negroes, as if conscious of their ex-
posed situation, had lost no time in throwing up
trenches, barricading the several entrances, and re-
inforcing the guard of the interior ; " they had more-
over, brought together all the little pieces of wood
and earth within their reach ; with these they had
blocked up the passage to their habitation, in which
they had posted themselves in full force."

" The legionaries at first hesitating to approach,
rambled about or returned to the rear ; they then on
a given signal rushed forward en masse, with great

CH. VII.] ANTS. 131

impetuosity, removing with their teeth and feet the
many obstacles which impeded their progress :
having1 succeeded, they entered the ant-hill hy hun-
dreds, notwithstanding- the resistance of its inhabit-
ants, and carried off their prize to the garrison."

In these attacks the legionaries never take the
old negroes prisoners, knowing perhaps that at an
adult age the love of home, with all its associations,
would be sad obstacles to transplantation ; nor is
their contest attended with loss of blood ; they seek
the young, and these being obtained, they speedily
decamp with their booty. Nor do they ever begin
their predatory warfare before the end of May, or
beginning of June ; if they commenced at an earlier
period to purloin the young negroes, they might
secure a large supply of captives, but then it would
principally consist of males and females, and these
it seems nature does not permit them to seize : for
she has ordained that, in the ant-hills destined to
pillage, the males and females shall be produced
earlier than the males and females of the legiona-
ries ; and it is only after their own males and females
have undergone the last change, that the instinct
which prompts them to steal the young of others
begins to operate. Hence, Huber has distinctly
ascertained, and Latreille has confirmed the discove-
ry, that the legionary ant-hill contains male, female,
and neuter amazons, together with negro-neuters,
but never negro males or females. The amazon
female, after having cast off her wings, lays the
foundation of her own nest, and performs all the
duties of a labourer. There is no doubt that these
creatures have the ability to work, and do so ; but
as soon as they obtain slaves to do that for them
which they ought to do themselves, they relinquish
every domestic duty, and during the day " tranquilly
wait, at the bottom of their subterranean abode, the
hour of departure, reserving their strength, courage,

132 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII,

and the address which they so well know how to
display, for the purposes of war."

On the negroes reared among them they depend
not only for house and home, but even for food ; and
these faithful and affectionate servants begrudge
neither labour nor pains, in providing for their mas-
ters. Huber enclosed thirty amazons with several
pupae and larvae of their own species, and twenty
negro pupae, in a glass box, the bottom of which
was covered with a thick layer of earth ; honey was
given to them, so that, although cut off from their
auxiliaries, the amazons had both shelter and food ;
at first they appeared to pay some little attention
to the young; this soon ceased, and they neither
traced out a dwelling, nor took any food ; in two
days one-half died of hunger, and the other re-
mained weak and languid : commiserating their con-
dition, he gave them one of their black companions :
this little creature, unassisted, formed a chamber in
the earth, gathered together the larvae, put every
thing into complete order, and preserved the lives
of those which were about to perish.

In order to obtain a more intimate knowledge of
the facts, the same observer of nature opened and
deranged an ant-hill in which the negroes and ama-
zons dwelt together ; in doing so, the aspect of their
city was so altered as not to be recognised by the
amazons, and they were seen wandering at random
over its surface. The negroes, however, appeared
to be well acquainted with the new localities of the
ant-hill, and relieved them from their embarrass-
ment, 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 antennae,
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

CH. VII.] ANTS. 133

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 inef-
fectual 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."

If the entrance to any gallery happened to be ob-
structed, the negro, depositing its burden, went to
remove the obstruction, and again taking up the
amazon, introduced it into the nest. It often hap
pens that the ant-hill is not sufficiently commodious ,
in this case the negroes alone decide upon the ex-
pediency of a removal, and choose a spot for the
new dwelling ; they set about building, and as soon
as the works are sufficiently advanced, appear eager
to conduct the legionaries to the new city : for this
purpose, each negro takes up an amazon, which it
carries to the chosen spot, so that a long line of
these faithful creatures may be seen extending all
the way from the old to the new town ; their charges
are then deposited at the various entrances, when
other negroes come out, welcome their arrival, and
usher them into the interior of their new abode.

The negro is not the only species of ant subju-
gated by the legionaries. The mining ants are at-
tacked for a similar purpose ; but as these are a
much more resolute race than the pacific ash-
coloured tribe, the legionaries are obliged to vary
their tactics.

"In one of these forays, the amazons," says
Huber, " proceeded like a torrent along a deep dike,
and marched in a more compact body than ordinary,
and in a short time reached the nest they proposed
to attack. As soon as the legionaries began enter-
ing the subterranean city, the miners rushed out in
L— M

134 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

crowds, and while some fell upon the invaders with
great spirit, others passed through the scene of con-
test, solely occupied in bearing off to a place of
safety their larvae and pupae."

The arnazon army was often despoiled of its
booty, but their superior address and agility at length
gave them the advantage, and in a quarter of an hour
they were seen returning homewards loaded with
prey — not, however, straggling, and in a file, as after
an assault upon the negroes, but in a compact mass ;
a precaution so much the more necessary, as the
courageous miners disputed every inch of ground,
following and attacking them until they arrived
within ten paces of the amazonian citadel.

Besides the amazons, there is another slave-
making species, called the formica sanguinea; a
species which has not as yet been discovered in this
island. They are larger than the legionaries : unlike
them, however, they share the labour with their
slaves. Their mode of attack is very different from
that of the legionaries ; the latter cany every thing
by sheer impetuosity ; the former never pour in im-
mense masses, but attack in small divisions : they
sometimes go one hundred and fifty paces, to attack
a negro habitation, and the various divisions suc-
ceed each other by means of couriers, which are
evidently sent off to fetch assistance from the gar-
rison.

" On the 15th July, at 10 A. M.," says Huber, " a
small division of sanguine ants was despatched
from the garrison, and arrived in quick march near
a nest of negro ants, situated twenty paces distant,
around which they took their station. The inhabit-
ants perceiving the strangers, rushed forth, and
made several prisoners; the sanguine ants ad-
vanced no farther : they appeared to be waiting for
reinforcements ; from time to time, little companies
arrived from the garrison to strengthen the brigade :
thus reunited they advanced a little nearer, and

CH. VII.] ANTS. 135

seemed more willing to run the risk of a general
engagement ; but in proportion as they approached
the negro dwelling, the more solicitous did they
seem to despatch couriers to the garrison, who, arriv-
ing in great haste, produced considerable alarm,
when another division was immediately despatched
to join the army. The negroes took up a position
of about two feet square, in front of their nest,
where nearly their whole force was assembled,
awaiting the enemy." In the interim, the pupae
were removed to the side of the nest facing the field
of battle, so that they might be conveyed away at a
moment's warning, affording a trait of what Huber
calls prudence, and certainly a marvellously singular
one it is. When fighting with the amazons, the im-
petuosity of the attack leaves the negro-ant no time
for thought, but in their contests with the sanguine
ants, they vary their tactics so as to meet the new
circumstances. The latter insects being sufficiently
reinforced, make the attack, and band after band pil-
lage and carry away their booty, not in a few minutes,
as is done by the amazons, but during the whole day ;
and if the pillaged city should suit them better than
their own, they remove to it on the following morn-
ing ; at least so it appears in an instance observed
by Huber. It is rare, according to that author, that
they do not change at least once during the year.
They certainly inspire the negroes with great terror,
for these, once attacked by them, generally forsake
their nest for ever.

" To their own slaves they are much attached ;
the sanguine ants are often besieged by the fallow
ants : on these occasions they carry their servants
to the lowest chambers, and these, as if aware of
the intention of their removal, immediately begin
barricading the different entrances, with every spe-
cies of material lying within their reach.

" The sanguine arits evince extraordinary foresight
in these engagements ; for while one party is fight-

136 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. VII.

ing, another is engaged in bearing away the negroes,
who immediately begin constructing a new dwelling
at a considerable distance from the scene of com-
bat."

Such is the extraordinary recital contained in that
delightful work of Huber's, every fact of which has
been confirmed by the subsequent observations of
the accurate and learned Latreille. It would seem
that the negro and miner ants are both occasionally
enslaved and dwell together in the sanguine ant-hills.
And Huber has brought up legionaries and sanguine
ants, which are both slave-makers, with negroes, in
one common dwelling.

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.
Linnaeus, 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 watch-
ing their proceedings, may see, as Linnaeus 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

CH. VII.] ANTS. 137

just described. When no ants happen to be at hand
to receive this treasure, the insects eject it to a dis-
tance 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 volun-
tarily ejected by the aphides, but what is still more
surprising1, they know how to make them yield it
at pleasure ; or, in other terms, to milk them. On
this occasion the antennse of the ants discharge the
same functions as the fingers of a milk-maid : with
these organs, moved very rapidly, they pat the ab-
domen of an aphis first on one side and then on the
other : a little drop of the much coveted juice imme-
diately 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 ap-
propriated; and if any vagrant foreigners attempt
to share this treasure with its true owners, the lat-
ter, 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
M3

138 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. VII,

milch kinc they remove from their native plants
and domesticate in their habitations, affording, :is
Httber jUStly observes, ;m example of almost human
industry and sagacity. On turning iif) the nest of
the yellow ant, this naturalist one day s;iw ;i variety
of aphides either wandering about in the different
chambers, or attached to the roots of plants whieh
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 honeyed 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 a.way
other ants; and, what is still more extraordinary,
they enclose them as a farmer does his sheep, to
preserve them not only from rival ants, but also
from the natural enemies of the aphis.

If the branch on which the aphides feed be con-
veniently situated, the ants have recourse to a very
effectual expedient to keep oil" all trespassers: they
construct around the branch containing the aphides
a tube of earth, or some other material, and in this
enclosure, formed near the nest and generally com-
municating with it, they secure their cattle against
all interlopers.

The brown ant has been observed by I Tuber to
build a chamber around the stem of a thistle;, in such
a way that the stalk passed through the centre;, sc
that from their ant-hill they had only to climb the
thistle-stalk, in order to enter this cattle-fold, which
was suspended in mid-air. The interior, smooth

r;n. vn.] ANTS. 139

and compact, was entirely formed of earth; it con-
tained ;ui extensive family of in-< hollered
from the inclemencies of the weather, and protected
from their enemies. These edifices an; not always
near the hottoiri of the thi.-itle-stalk;
• ;ie at the height of fivo feet from
the ground. "Th' ays he, "are
'•ornrnon : we cannot attribute them to
h-ibitual routine." Indeed, the modes of pre-
serving their cattle seem to he as various as those
: \>y man. mts receive their food
from the aphidet wliieh suek the jiiiees of the CC
mon plaintain, and the take their station
ii'Mf the flower of tlie plant; a- sor>n as the flowers
wither, t -':t-eows take shelter under the
••>, leaves; upon whieh the ants, which before
Up to them, now surround them with a
mud wall, arid, making gallery hv way of
•nunieation hf.-twr^eri their nest and tne "pad-
• food from them at their convenience
and pleasure-.

During autumn, winter, and spring, many species

Jndes* Indeed, in winter they would

horrors of a famine, did they not

rely for food on their cattle; for though they become

torpid when exposed to intense cold, yet, for the

1 part, the depth of their nests preserves for

;tly high to prevent this

Th<-ir milch cows aie men kept on

the roots of the plants which penetrate the interior

of the nest, and furnish an abundant supply of liquid

in which their keepers delight. And not only is the

full-grown animal kept, but its eggs are watched

and rrinrded with that care which warrant us in

_' that the ant knows their full value.

> f real consequence to the ants that the hatch-

of the eggs of tne aphides should take place as

early in the spring as possible, in order to ensure an

early supply of food for their colony; and with the

140 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

view of hastening this event, they deposite them in
the warmest part of their dwelling;.

The mode in which the habitations of the ants are
constructed varies according to the species of this
insect. Some excavate their dwellings, and are
hence denominated mining ants ; others build them
on the surface of the ground, and are, in consequence,
termed mason ants ; and a third species take up their
residence in hollow trees. But whatever may be
the mode in which they form their habitations, they
always contrive to shelter themselves completely
from the rain. The longest and loftiest chamber is
placed near the centre of the nest, and here all the
galleries terminate; the subterranean chambers are
horizontal. In the evening, the aperture of the
nests of some ants is always closed, and in the
morning reopened; but according to Huber, the
brown ant has been seen to work during a moon-
light night.

Having in the daytime noticed some aphides upon
a thistle, he examined it again in the irght about
eleven o'clock, and found his ants bus/ milking
their cows. At the same hour, another night, he
observed, on an elder-tree, the little negro-ant en-
gaged in the same employment.

From the result of their labours, it might be in-
ferred that they were actuated by a common me-
chanical instinct, yet this is by no means the cases
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 materials. 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

CH. VII.] ANTS. 141

geometrically precise labour of bees. Indeed they
seem to act so completely according to the exi-
gencies of each case, that the moving power which
impels and guides their operations approaches so
closely to human reason, that to establish a distinc-
tion appears extremely difficult.

The strength and perseverance of ants are per-
fectly wonderful. Kirby states, that he once saw
two or three horse-ants hauling along a young snake
not dead, which was of the thickness of a goose-
quill. St. Pierre relates, that he saw a number of
ants carrying off a Patagonian centipede : they had
seized it by all its legs, and bore it along as work-
men do a large piece of timber. Nothing can divert
them from any purpose which they have undertaken
to execute. In warm climates they may be fre-
quently seen marching in columns which exceed all
power of enumeration ; always pursuing a straight
course, from which nothing can cause them to
deviate : if they come to a house or other building,
they storm or undermine it ; if a river cross their
path, they will endeavour to swim over it, though
millions perish in the attempt.

It is related of the celebrated conqueror Timour,
that being once forced to take shelter from his ene-
mies in a ruined building, he sat alone many hours :
desirous of diverting his mind from his hopeless
condition, he fixed his observation upon an ant which
was carrying a grain of corn (probably a pupa)
larger than itself, up a high wall. Numbering the
efforts that it made to accomplish this object, he
found that the grain fell sixty-nine times to the
ground ; but the seventieth time it reached the top
of the wall. " This sight," said Timour, " gave me
courage at the moment, and I have never forgotten
the lesson it conveyed."

The Jesuit Dobrizhofler, in his History of the
Abipones, gives the folio wing very singular account
of the ravages of ants known in Paraguay. He

142 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

furnishes no means of ascertaining the species
whose proceedings he describes. " The largest
ants which I had an opportunity of seeing are
formidable on account of their undermining build-
ings. They make burrows, with infinite labour,
under churches and houses, digging deep, sinuous
meanders in the earth, and exerting their utmost
strength to throw out the loosened sods. Having
got wings, they fly off in all directions, on the ap-
proach of heavy showers, with the same ill fortune
as Icarus, but with this difference, that he perished
in the sea, they on the ground, to which they fall
when tbr i'r wings are wetted by the rain. Moreover
those holes in the earth by which the ants used first
to pass admit the rain-water, which inundates the
caves of the ants, and undermines the building,
causing the wooden beams that uphold the wall and
roof, first to give way, and, unless immediately sup-
ported, to fall along with the house. This is a com-
mon spectacle in Paraguay. The whole hill on
which St. Joachim was built was covered with ant-
hills, and full of subterranean cavities. Our house
and the one adjoining: suffered much from these
insects. The chief altar was rendered useless for
many days ; for, it being rainy weather, the lurking
ants flew in swarms from their caves, and not being
able to support a long flight, fell upon the priest, the
altar, and sacred utensils, defiling every thing. Ten
outlets by which they broke from their caves being
closed up, next day they opened twenty more. One
evening there arose a violent storm, with horrible
thunder and lightning. A heavy shower seemed to
have converted our court-yard into a sloping lake,
the wall itself withstanding the course of the
waters. My companion betook himself to my apart-
ment. Meantime, an Indian, the churchwarden,
arrives, announcing that the floor of the church was
beginning to gape, and the wall to open and be in-
clined. I snatched up a lamp and ran to the place,

CH. VII.] ANTS. 143

but had hardly quitted the threshold of my door,
when I perceived a gap in the earth ; and before I
was aware of any danger, sunk up to the shoulders
in a pit, in the very place of the chief altar, but
scrambled out of it, by the help of the church-
warden, as quickly as I had got in, for under that
altar the ants seemed to have made their metropolis :
the cavern was many feet long and wide, so that it
had the appearance of a wine-cellar. As often as
earth was thrown in by the Indians to fill it, so often
was it dug out by the ants. In this universal trepi-
dation, all the Indians were called to prop the gaping
wall of the church with rafters and planks. The
greatness of the danger rendered it impossible to
remain quiet, whatever arts were adopted. That
same night I removed from my apartment, which
was joined to the church with the same beams and
rafters, in such a manner, that if one fell, the
other could not avoid being involved in the ruin. I
have read that in Guiana, rocks and mountains
have been undermined, walls thrown down, and
people turned out of their habitations by ants, which
I can easily believe, having myself witnessed simi-
lar or even more incredible events.

" In Paraguay I was made thoroughly acquainted
with the powers of ants. They are weak and, com-
pared with many other insects, diminutive, but num-
bers, labour, and unanimity render them formidable,
and endow them with strength superior to their
size. In the plains, especially those near the Pa-
raguay, I have seen ant-hills, like stone pyramids,
three or more ells high, with a broad base, and com-
posed of a solid material as hard as stone : these
are the storehouses and castles of the ants, from
the summits of which they discern sudden inunda-
tions, and safely behold the floating carcasses of less
industrious animals. Elsewhere I have seen an im-
mense plain, so coveied with low ant-hills, that the
horse could not move a step without stumbling. In

144 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VII.

the plains you may often observe a broad path,
through which you would swear the legions of
Xerxes might have passed. The Spaniards hollow
out these pyramidal heaps, and use them for ovens,
or reduce them to a powder, which, mixed with
water, serves admirably to floor houses. Pavements
of this kind resemble stone in appearance and hard-
ness, and are said to prevent the breeding of fleas
and other insects. But hear what mischief ants
commit within doors. They flock in a long and
almost endless company to the sacks of wheat, and in
a journey uninterrupted by day or night (if there be a
moon), carry off by degrees some bushels. They
will entirely strip fruit trees of their leaves, unless
you twist a cow's tail round the trunk to hinder their
ascent, and eat away the crops so completely that
you would think they had been cut with a sickle.
Moreover, ants of various kinds are extremely de-
structive both to vineyards and gardens, devouring
vegetables and pulse to the very root. Set a young
plant in the ground, and the next day you will seek
it in vain. They refrain from pepper on account of
its pungency. If you leave meat, either dressed or
raw, in your apartment, you will soon find it black-
ened with swarms of ants. They devour all sorts
of trash, the very carcasses of beetles, toads, and
snakes. On returning to my apartment, I found a
little bird which I kept in a cage devoured by ants.
Nor do they abstain from the bodies of sleeping
persons. In the dead of the night an army of ants
will issue from the wall or pavement, get upon the
bed, and unless you instantly make your escape,
sting you all over. This happened so frequently in
the Guarany colonies, that we were obliged to burn a
candle at night ; for lighted sheets of paper thrown
upon the swarm are the only means of driving them
away. The Portuguese have an old saying, that the
ants are queens of Brazil. Certainly we have found
them the sovereigns of Paraguay. There may be

CH. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 145

said to be more trouble in conquering these insects,
than all the savages put together ; for every contri-
vance hitherto devised serves only to put them to
flight, not banish them effectually."

CHAPTER VHL

TERMITES, OR WHITE ANTS.

Their Destructiveness — Clear the Ground of atl dead vegetable Matter
— Societies composed of four sorts of Individuals— Eaten as Food by
the Indians— Appear 'in countless 'Myriads at the end of the Rainy
Season — Prodigious Fertility of the Queen— Size, Form, and Interior
Arrangements of their Hills — Marching Ants.

ALMOST all that we know concerning the habits
and instincts of these curious animals is derived
from an account published by Smeathman, in the
" Philosophical Transactions" for 1781. The pro-
ceedings of this insect-tribe, as detailed in that
paper, are so singular, that they cannot fail to prove
interesting to the reader.

The termites are represented by Linnaeus as the
greatest plagues of both Indies, and indeed, between
the Tropics, they are justly so considered, from the
vast damages and losses which they cause : they
perforate and eat into wooden buildings, utensils, and
furniture, with all kinds of household stuff, and
merchandise; these they totally destroy, if their
progress be not timely stopped. A person residing
in the equinoctial regions, although not incited by
curiosity, must be very fortunate if the safety of his
property do not compel him to observe their habits.

" When they find their way," says Kirby, " into
houses or warehouses, nothing less hard than metal
or glass escapes their ravages. Their favourite
I.-— N

146 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VIII.

food, however, is wood, and so infinite is the multi-
tude of assailants, and such the excellence of their
tools, that all the timber work of a spacious apart-
ment is often destroyed by them in a night. Out-
wardly, every thing appears as if untouched; for
these wary depredators, and this is what constitutes
the greatest singularity of their history, carry on all
their operations by sap or mine, destroying first the
inside of solid substances, and scarcely ever attack-
ing their outside, until first they have concealed it
and their operations with a coat of clay."

An engineer having returned from surveying the
country, left his trunk on a table ; the next morning
he found not only all his clothes destroyed by white
ants or cutters, but his papers also, and the latter in
such a manner, that there was not a bit left of an
inch square. The black lead of his pencils was con-
sumed, the clothes were not entirely cut to pieces
and carried away, but appeared as if moth-eaten,
there being scarcely a piece as large as a shilling
that was free from small holes ; and it was farther
remarkable, that some silver coin, which was in the
trunk, had a number of black specks on it, caused
by something so corrosive, that they could not be
rubbed off, even with sand. " One night," says
Kemper, " in a few hours, they pierced one foot of
the table, and having in that manner ascended, car-
ried their arch across it, and then down, through the
middle of the other foot, into the floor, as good luck
would have it, without doing any damage to the
papers left there."*

The destructiveness of these insects is, perhaps,
one of the most efficient means of checking the per-
nicious luxuriance of vegetation within the tropics ;
no large animals could effect in months what the
white ant can execute in weeks ; the largest trees
which, falling, would rot, and render the air pesti-

* Hist. Japan, vol. ii. p. 127.

CH. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 147

lential, are so thoroughly removed, that not a grain
of their substance is to be recognised. Not only is
the air freed from this corrupting matter, but the
plants destroyed by the shade of these bulky giants
of the vegetable world are thus permitted to shoot.

In those countries, the white ants answer another
purpose ; they serve for food : in some parts of the
East Indies, the natives catch the winged insects
just before their period of emigration, in the fol-
lowing manner— they make two holes, the one to
the windward, the other to the leeward : at the lee-
ward opening they place the mouth of a pot, the
inside of -which has been previously rubbed with an
aromatic herb, called Bergera: on the windward
side they make a fire of stinking materials, which
not only drives these insects, but frequently the
hooded snakes also, into the pots, on which account
they are obliged to be cautious in removing them.
By this method they catch great quantities, of which
they make with flour a variety of pastry, which they
can afford to sell very cheap to the poorer ranks of
people : when this sort of food is used too abun-
dantly, it produces cholera, " which kills in two or
three hours."

It also seems that, in some form or other, these
insects are greedily eaten in other countries : thus,
when, after swarming, shoals of them fall into the
rivers, the Africans skim them off the surface with
calabashes, and bringing them to their habitations,
parch them in iron pots over a gentle fire, stirring
them about as is usually done in roasting coffee ;
in that state, without sauce or any other addition,
they consider them delicious food, putting them by
handfuls into their mouth as we do comfits. "I
have," says Smeathman, "eaten them dressed in
this way" several times, and think them delicate,
nourishing, and wholesome; they are something
sweeter, though not so fat and cloying, as the cat-
terpillar or maggot of the palm-tree snoutbeetle

148 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH.

(curculio palmarurri), which is served up at all the
luxurious tables of the West Indian epicures, par-
ticularly of the French, as the greatest dainty of the
Western world."

The different species of this genus resemble each
other in form, in their manner of living, and in their
good and bad qualities, but differ as much as birds
in the manner of building their habitations, and in
the choice of the material of which they compose
them.

Some build on the surface of the ground, or partly
above and partly beneath, and some on the stems or
branches of trees, sometimes aloft at a vast height.

Their societies consist of five different descrip-
tions of individuals.

1. Workers or /arrce, answering to the neuters of
bees. These constitute the most numerous division
of the community; they construct the nest and take
charge of the young, until the latter are capable of
providing for themselves.

2. Nymphs or pupae: which differ in nothing
from the larvae, except in possessing the rudiments
of wings.

3. Neuters: which are known by their large
heads, armed with very long mandibles. These
exceed the labourers much in bulk, and are in nu-
merical proportion to the latter as 1 to 100. They
are the soldiers of the community.

4 and 5. A male and female arrived at their full
state of perfection. Each community contains but
one of each of these, and they are strictly king and
queen ; they are exempt from all the ordinary duties
falling upon their subjects: when first disclosed
from the pupa, they have four wings ; but like the
ants, they soon cast off these members. They are
known from the blind larvae, pupae, and neuters, by
their having two large eyes.

" In this form," says Smsathman, " the animal
comes abroad during or soon after the first tornado

CII. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 149

which at the latter end of the dry season proclaims
the approach of the ensuing- rains, and seldom waits
for a second or third shower, if the first, as is gene-
rally the case, happen in the night and bring much
wet after it.

" The quantities that are to be found next morn-
ing all over the surface of the earth, but particularly
in the waters, is astonishing; for their wings are
only calculated to carry them a few hours, and after
the rising of the sun, not one in a thousand is to be
found with four wings, unless the morning continue
rainy, when here and there a solitary being1 is seen,
winging its way from one place to another, as if
solicitous only to avoid its numerous enemiesT par
ticularly the various species of ants which are hunt
ing on every spray, on every leaf, and in every pos-
sible place, for this unhappy race : hence probably
not a pair in many millions gets into a place of
safety to fulfil the first law of nature, and lay the
foundation of a new community.

•" Not only all kinds of ants, birds, and carnivorous
reptiles, as well as insects, are upon the hunt for
them ; but the inhabitants of many countries, and
particularly of some parts of Africa, eagerly seize
upon them."

On the following1 morning, however, they are to
be seen running- upon the ground in chase of each
other. From one of the most active, industrious,
and rapacious, from one of the most fierce and im-
placable little animals in the world, they are now
become the most innocent, helpless, and cowardly;
never making the least resistance to the smallest ant.

The ants are to be seen on every side in infinite
numbers, drag-ging to their different nests these
annual victims of the laws of nature. It is won-
derful that a pair should ever escape so many dan-
gers, and get into a place of safety ; some, however,
do in fact escape, and being found by some of the
labouring insects that are continually running about
N2

150 NATURAL HISTORY. j^CH. VDI.

the surface of the ground under their covered gal-
leries, they are elected kings and queens of new
states. All those who have not the good luck to be
so preserved, certainly perish, and most probably in
the course of the following day.

The manner in which these labourers protect the
happy pair from their innumerable enemies, not
only on the day of the massacre of almost all their
race, but for a long time after, justifies the use of the
term "election."

The little industrious creatures immediately en-
close the favoured individuals in a small chamber
of clay, suitable to their size, into which at first
they have but one entrance just large enough for the
workers arid the soldiers to go in and out, but much
too contracted to be used by either of the royal pair;
and when necessity obliges them to make more en-
trances, they are never larger: so that of course
these subjects charge themselves voluntarily with
the labour of providing for the offspring of their
sovereigns, as well as of working and of fighting
for them, until they shall have raised a progeny ca-
pable at least of dividing the task with them.

About this time a most extraordinary change
begins to take place in the queen, to which nothing
similar is known except in the chigoe, and in the
different species of the coccus tribe : the abdomen
begins gradually to enlarge, and at length acquires
such an enormous size, that an old queen will have
it increased to an extent which equals fifteen hun-
dred or two thousand times the bulk of the rest of

CH. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 151

her body, and twenty or thirty thousand times the
bulk of a labourer.

The skin between the segments is distended in
every direction ; and at last the segments are re-
moved to the distance of half an inch from each
other, though at first the length of the whole abdo-
men is not half an inch ; they preserve their dark
brown colour, and the upper part of the abdomen is
marked with a regular series of brown bars from
the thorax ta the posterior part of the abdomen;
while the intervals between them are covered with
a thin, delicate, transparent skin, and appear of a
fine cream-colour, a little shaded by the dark hue
of the intestines and wateiy fluid seen here and
there beneath.

Smeathman conjectures that the animal must be
upwards of two years old when the abdomen is thus
increased to three inches in length: he has some-
times found them of nearly twice that size : the ab-
domen is then of an irregular oblong shape, being
contracted by the muscles of every segment, and is
become one vast matrix full of eggs, which make
long circumvolutions through an innumerable series
of very minute vessels. This singular matrix is
not more remarkable for its amazing extension than
for its peristaltic motion, which resembles the un-
dulation of waves, and continues incessantly with-
out any apparent effort on the part of the animal ;
so that there is a constant protrusion of eggs to the
amount, as Smeathman has frequently counted in
the case of old queens, of sixty in a minute, or
eighty thousand and upwards in twenty-four hours.
These eggs are instantly removed by her attend-
ants, of which a sufficient number is always found
waiting in the adjacent chambers, and carried to the
nurseries, which, in a great nest, may be four or five
feet distant, in a direct line, and consequently much
farther by the winding galleries which conduct to
them.

152 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VIH.

The nests of these insects are usually termed
hills by natives, as well as strangers, from their out-
ward appearance, which, being1 more or less conical,
generally resemble the form of a sugar-loaf; they
rise about ten or twelve feet in perpendicular height
above the ordinary surface of the ground.

They continue quite bare till they reach the height
of six or eight feet ; but in time the dead barren clay
of which they are composed becomes fertilized by
the genial influence of the elements in these prolific
climates ; and in the second or third year, the hil-
lock, if not overshaded by trees, becomes like the
rest of the earth, almost covered with grass and
other plants ; and in the dry season, when the herb-
age is burnt up bv the rays of the sun, it appears

CH. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 153

not unlike a very large hay-cock. " But of all ex-
traordinary things I observed," says Adanson, " no-
thing struck me more than certain eminences, which,
by their height and regularity, made me take them
at a distance for an assemblage of negro huts, or a
considerable village, and yet they are only the nests
of certain insects."*

Smeathman has drawn a comparison between these
labours of the termes and the works of man, taking
the termes' labourer at one-fourth of an inch long,
and man at six feet high. When a termes has built
one inch, or four times its height, it is equivalent to
twenty-four feet, or four times the height of man.
One inch of the termes' building being proportionate
to twenty-four feet of human building, twelve
inches, or one foot, of the former must be propor-
tionate to twelve times twenty-four, or two hundred
and eighty-eight feet, of the latter; consequently,
when the white ant has built one foot, it has, in
point of labour, equalled the exertions of a man
who has built two hundred and eighty-eight feet ;
but as the ant-hills are ten feet high, it is evident
that human beings must produce a work of two
thousand eight hundred and eighty feet in height, to
compete with the industry of their brother insect.
The Great Pyramid is about one-fifth of this height ;
and as the solid contents of the ant-hill are in the
same proportion, they must equally surpass the
solid contents of thai ancient wonder of the world.

Every one of these hills consists of two distinct
parts, the exterior and the interior.

The exterior consists of one shell formed in the
manner of a dome, large and strong enough to en-
close and shelter the interior from the vicissitudes
of the weather, and the inhabitants from the attacks
of natural or accidental enemies. It is, therefore,
in every instance, much stronger than the interior

* Voyage to Senegal.

154 NATURAL HIS ORY. [CH. VIH.

of the building1, which, being the habitable part, is
divided, with a wonderful degree of regularity and
contrivance, into an amazing number of apartments
for the residence of the king and queen, and the
nursing of their numerous progeny ; or appropriated
as magazines, to hold provisions.

These hills make their first appearance above
ground by a little turret or two in the shape of su-
gar-loaves, rising a foot or more in height. Soon

after, at some little distance, while the first turrets
are increasing in height and size, the insects raise
others, and so go on, increasing- their number, and
widening their bases, till the space occupied by their
under-ground works becomes covered with a series
of these elevations ; the centre turret is always the
highest ; the intervals between the turrets are then
filled up, and the whole collected, as it were, under
one dome. These interior turrets seem to be in-
tended chiefly as scaffolding for the dome ; for they
are, in a great part, removed when that has been
erected.

When these hills have reached somewhat more
than half their height, they furnish a convenient
stand, where the wild bulls of the district may be
seen to station themselves, while acting as senti-
nels and watching the rest of the herd reposing and
ruminating' below ; thev are sufficiently strong for

CH. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 155

this purpose. The outward shell, or dome, is not
only of use to protect the interior buildings from
external violence and heavy rains, but to collect and
preserve a regular supply of heat and moisture,
which seems indispensable for hatching the eggs
and rearing the young ones.

The royal chamber, occupied by the king and
queen, is manifestly considered of the most conse-
quence, being always situated as near the centre of
the interior building as possible, and generally upon
a level with the surface of the ground, at a pace or
two from the hillock. Its interior shape nearly re-

sembles half an egg, or an obtuse oval, not unlike a
long oven. In the infant state of the colony it is
scarcely an inch in length, but it is enlarged as the
queen increases in bulk, until it reaches the length
of about eight inches.

Its floor is perfectly horizontal, and about an inch
thick; the roof is generally of the same solidity,
being formed of one well-turned oval arch; the
doors are made level with the floor, equidistant from
each other, and just large enough to admit a la-
bourer, but not to permit the exit of their majesties,
who are imprisoned for life.

In a large hillock, the royal chamber is surrounded

156 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. VIII.

by numberless others of different shapes and dimen-
sions, all of them arched either ovally or circularly;
these communicate with one another by means of
passages, and are the waiting-rooms for the attend-
ants employed in removing- the eggs of the queen ;
they also lodge the soldiers engaged in the defence
of the colony.

Next to these are the magazines, in which are
deposited the inspissated exudations and juices of
trees, of various colours and consistency. Inter-
mixed with the magazines are the nurseries, differ-
ing totally in construction from any other part of
the building, being composed of raspings of wood
cemented with gum. They are compact, and di
vided into many very irregular-shaped chambers,

not one of which is half an inch wide. The nur-
series are enclosed in chambers of clay ; they are
placed at first near the royal cell, but as the queen
enlarges, they are removed to a distance, in order
that room may be made for her increasing wants.
In the early state of the hill, these nursery-cham-
bers are not bigger than ahazelnut; but as it ad-
vances, they become enlarged to the size of a child's
head.
The intervention of these various cavities is well

CH. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 167

calculated to regulate the temperature of the inte-
rior. There are also large subterraneous galleries,
to which the Roman sewers are not to be compared,
when the size of the worker is taken into account.
Some of these are thirteen inches in the bore, ex-
tending more than a hundred yards under ground,
and forming the great thoroughfares of the commu-
nity. The tender body of the termites, compared
with the armour-like integument of their mortal ene-
mies the ants, makes it necessary for them thus to
conceal themselves in their covered roads.

These galleries wind spirally up to the top of the
hill. By this contrivance the ascent is rendered
easier to an insect toiling under its load. Let us
only conceive a man carrying a heavy weight up a
ladder two thousand eight hundred and eighty feet,
and we shall have some notion of the labour saved
by inclining the ascent. The distance too is short-
ened by another ingenious contrivance : an arch is
thrown from one frequented spot to another; and
one of these when measured has been found to be
ten inches in length, half an inch in width, and one-
fourth of an inch in thickness ; and, according to
Smeathman, it was not excavated, but projected
from one point to another. It would be curious to
know the site of these arches in different hills, as
proving how far they might or might not be varied
with the exigencies of each community.

Having thus described the city, some account
shall now be given of its inhabitants. In the sub-
joined engraving : — the first (fig. 1) represents the
king, which, after losing its wings, never seems to
increase in bulk. The next (fig. 2) is a labourer
magnified ; it is less than a quarter of an inch in
length. If its formidable jaws be examined, and its
immense industry and activity be considered, the ef-
fects resulting from the labours of myriads of these
insects will scarcely excite surprise. The next
(fig. 3) is the soldier, with its huge head armed with
I.— 0

158 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VIII.

awls, which may be seen magnified in the last figure
fig- 4).

2. Labourer magnified.
4. The head magnified.

The workers and soldiers of all the different spe-
cies of termites never expose themselves to the open
air, but travel either underground, or in the interior of
such trees and substances as they destroy. It some-
times happens that they cannot proceed by latent
passages, although they find it necessary to search
for plunder above ground ; in this emergency they
make pipes of the same material with which they
build their nest. With this material they com-
pletely line most of the roads leading from their
nests into the various parts of the country, and
travel outwards and homewards with the utmost
security in all kinds of weather. If they meet
with a rock or any other obstruction, they will make
their way over the surface: for that purpose they
erect a covered way, or arch, still of the same ma-
terials, continuing it, with many windings and rami-
fications, through large groves ; and, where such a
precaution may be practicable, they construct sub-
terranean pipes running parallel with the surface
passages, into which they sink for security, when-
ever their galleries above ground may be destroyed
by violence, or they happen to be alarmed by the
tread of men or animals.

" When one chances to enter," says Smeathman,
" a solitary grove where the ground is pretty well

CH. VIII.] THE WHITE ANT. 159

covered by their arched galleries, they give the
alarm by loud hissings, which we hear distinctly at
every step we make. Soon afterward it is vain to
examine the galleries for these insects ; little holes
are found just large enough for them to escape
through.

Smith, in talking of a species of termes, says, "I
one day attempted to knock off the top of one of
the hills with my cane, but the stroke had no other
effect than to bring thousands of the insects out of
doors to see what was the matter; upon which I
took to my heels, and ran away as fast as I could."
" The first object which strikes one upon opening
their hills," says Smeathman, " is the behaviour of
their soldiers. If you make a breach, in a few se-
conds a soldier will run out, and walk about as if to
reconnoitre. It will sometimes go in as if to give
the alarm, but most frequently may be followed by
two or three others, who run straggling after one
another; and to them succeed a large body, who
rush out as fast as the breach will permit them ;
and the number increases as long as any one con-
tinues battering the building. It is not easy to de-
scribe the rage and fury they show. In their hurry
they frequently miss their hold, and tumble down
the sides of the hill, but recover themselves as
quickly as possible, and, being blind, bite every
thing they run against, thus making a crackling
noise, while some beat repeatedly with their forceps
upon the building, and make a small vibrating noise
something shriller and quicker than the ticking of a
watch — it can be heard at three or four feet dis-
tance. They make their hooked jaws meet at
every bite ; and if it should be the leg of a man, a
spot of blood, extending an inch on the stocking,
follows the wound. Nothing can tear them away,
but they must be taken off piecemeal. If, on the
other hand, you cease to batter, in half an hour they
retire into the nest, as if they supposed the won-

160 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. VIII

derful monster that damaged their castle to be be-
yond their reach. The labourers, who had fled on
the first alarm, are now seen hastening to repair the
breach, every one with a burden of ready tempered
mortar in its mouth. This they stick on to the
breach with such wonderful celerity and order, that
although thousands, nay, millions, seem employed,
yet they never embarrass one another. While the
labourers are thus engaged, the soldiers retire, save
here and there one, who saunters about, never touch-
ing the mortar. One, in particular, places itself
close to the part undergoing repair ; it may be seen
turning leisurely on all sides, and every now and
then, at an interval of a minute or two, lifting up
its head, and with its forceps beating upon the
building and making a vibrating noise, on which a
loud hiss, apparently from the whole body of la-
bourers, issues from withinside the dome and all
the subterranean passages : that it comes from the
labourers is very evident, for all these may be seen
hastening at every such signal, redoubling their
pace, and working as fast again. Attack the nest
again, and with a loud hiss the labourers disappear,
and the soldiers rush out ; so that the experiment
yields constantly the same result, of labourers at
work and soldiers rushing to battle, the duties of
each being as distinct as night and day."

Smeathman gives the following account of the
marching termes.

While sauntering very silently in the hopes of
finding some sport, on a sudden he heard a loud hiss,
which, on account of the many serpents in those
countries, is a most alarming sound. The next step
produced a repetition of the sound ; and then he
saw with astonishment and delight, an army of the
marching ants (termes viarum) emerging from the
ground : their march was orderly, and very rapid,
and their numbers prodigious : they were divided
into two columns sixteen abreast, composed chiefly

CH. IX.] THE GALL-INSECT. 161

of labourers, with here and there a huge soldier
that appeared like an ox among sheep ; other sol-
diers kept a foot or two from the column, apparently
acting as videttes, appointed to guard against sur-
prise : others mounted the plants or blades of grass,
which flanked the main bodies, and, thus elevated
a foot and more, looked over and controlled the pro-
ceedings of the moving 'multitude. They turned
their heads in the different directions whence dan-
ger might arise, and every now and then struck
their forceps against the plant and produced the
ticking sound already mentioned, to which the
whole army anssvered simultaneously with a loud
hiss, and quickened their pace : after proceeding
thus for about fifteen paces, the two columns united
and sunk into the earth. The stream, however,
continued to flow on for more than an hour, during
which Smeathman watched their movements : the
rear was brought up by a large body of soldiers.

CHAPTER IX.

Parasitical Insects— Gall-Insect— Cochineal-Insect— The Scarlet
Colour used in Dysing.

WE shall now proceed to the habits and instincts
of a class of insects which may with a little lati-
tude be termed parasitical ; some of these attach
themselves to the vegetable, others to the animal
kingdom.

The history of the gall-insects is curious, chiefly
from the power they possess of diverting the laws
of vegetation from their ordinary into an extraordi-
nary track. Thes« insects are not all of one kind ;
but, though differing in many respects, they have
this quality in common, that they deposite an egg
O2

162 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IX,

under the outward covering- of a plant, whence a
little mansion springs up which provides its inmate
both with shelter and food. Judging from the great
number of plants attacked by them, it would appear
that our insects are destined to fill a very important
department in the economy of nature. These ex^
crescences are found in every part of a plant ; there
is scarcely a portion of the oak, for instance, whe-
ther it be root, branch, stalk, leaf, or bud, which is
not capable of furnishing the gall-insects with a
habitation.

Some of the galls are tenanted by only one em-
bryo, others contain many in their larva state, so
that these insect-houses consist either of one or
many chambers ; they vary in size from the minute-
ness of a pin's head to the bulk of a walnut ; they
sometimes resemble fruit, both in shape and colour :
the gall of the oak, for example, is sometimes
shaped like an apple, sometimes like a bunch of
currants, and sometimes like an artichoke : but it
were endless to enumerate the strange and beautiful
diversities which are produced by a tiny insect in a
space of time varying from a few hours to a few
weeks.

The older botanists mistook the trees in which
these vegetable excrescences were produced for
distinct species. Thus, Gerard describes a willow
which bore something like roses ; he talks of it, as

CH. IX.] THE GALL-INSECT. 163

not only " making- a gallant show, and being- set up
in houses for the decking of the same," but also as
" yielding a most cooling aire in the heat of summer."

" This willow, however," observes Kirby, "is no-
thing more than one of the common species, whose
twigs in consequence of the deposition of the eggs
of a cynips in their summit, there shoot out into
numerous leaves totally differing in shape from the
other leaves of the tree, and arranged not much
unlike the flower of a rose, adhering to the stem even
after the others fall off."

In consistence, these excrescences have nothing
in common with the plant to which they are at-
tached. On the oak, some are found literally as
hard as iron, so as to turn the edge of a knife, while
others are as juicy and pulpy as fruit. It is not
the tree but the insect which regulates this ; for it is
certain that, on the very same leaf, one species of
gall-fly will invariably form a woody and hard gall-
nut, while another as invariably produces a spongy
and soft one — although both of these are formed
from materials of the same texture. Persons who
formerly saw insects emerging from little excres-
cences having no visible inlet, were induced to be-
lieve that they had either been sucked up by the roots
with the juices, or generated by putrefaction.

Attentive observation, and the use of a lens of suf-
ficient power, will explain the manner in which the
gall-nut rises. The little fly may be seen settling on
the part to which its instinct invariably leads it ; and
introducing a sort of sting, its ovipositor, under the
epidermis or skin of the plant : it then moves it
about as if to enlarge the orifice, and deposites the
egg. These eggs, when examined first in the body
of the fly, and afterward in the nut, are found to
differ so much in size, that Reaumur supposes them
to grow after they have been laid. If this be the fact,
it is singular, as in that case the egg will not resem-
ble so much that of oviparous animals as that of

164 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IX

viviparous. The gall-nut will be, as that unrivalled
naturalist has conjectured, a matrix or womb, from
which juices are absorbed by the egg, in order to
furnish the material of its growth.

The plant being alive, we can easily imagine that,
if any part of it be wounded, the sap would flow from
the orifice, and produce a knob, which would grow
and harden into an irregular mass.

The gall-fly, however, has the art of altering the
organization of the part : an egg, together with per-
haps a most minute drop of fluid, is introduced into
a plant ; and a part which, under ordinary circum-
stances, would have expanded into a leaf or stalk, is
seen to burst out under the form of a fruit or flower,
as evidently organized, as if it had been trans-
ferred from the plant which it resembles, to that to
which it has no natural affinity.

Why one insect should produce invariably one
species of gall, and another insect a different species
— why these should resemble the regular forms of
parts of other plants, are mysteries extremely diffi-
cult, if not utterly incapable, of solution. When the
egg is deposited in the young shoot, by a particular
kind of gall-fly, instead of pushing forth a sprout,
the irritation brings out an abundance of leaves,
which gradually assume the figure of an artichoke.

The first general effect produced by the insertion
of the egg is, therefore, to augment the vegetative
powers of the part, and the next to alter their action.
The hairy gall of the wild rose, formerly employed
in medicine, under the name of Bedegtiar, has a
mossy appearance. Here the liquor of the gall-fly
seems to have caused a disjunction of those fibres
which, in their ordinary state, would have united and
formed a leaf. The difference observable in the
consistence of these various galls may possibly arise
from the different power of absorbing juices pos-
sessed by the different insects inhabiting them ;
though it is just as possible, in this guess-work, to

CH. IX.] THE GALL-INSECT. 165

suppose that the irritation should cause a greater
quantity of juices to flow towards the punctured
part.

The gall-insects remain five or six months in the
larva state, before changing to nymphs ; some un-
dergo all their metamorphoses within the gall-nut,
and piercing their prison, come forth as perfect in-
sects : others quit it and bury themselves in the
earth, until they arrive at maturity; soon after which
the female becomes impregnated and lays her eggs.
Carefully concealed in the manner just described,
they escape most of their natural enemies ; but fre-
quently some of the ichneumon tribe contrive to
introduce their eggs into the same habitation, and
the larva as it grows up feeds on the young of the
gall-fly.

This shows that even insects, which nature seems
to have gifted with the most surprising foresight,
cannot provide against all the hazards to which their
young are exposed. What could an anxious mother
do more, than to conceal her offspring in so solid
and secret a habitation, as that which envelopes the
young gall-fly? But insects, as small or smaller
than those into which the larvae are transformed,
know how to pierce the sides of the cells and to de-
posite within them an egg, which shall produce a car-
nivorous worm, for whom the rightful tenant of the
mansion serves as food. When some of these galls
are opened, two worms of different sizes will fre-
quently be found, the least sucking the biggest, while

166 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IX.

the latter sucks the gall-nut. When the ichneumon,
for the small worm generally turns into that species
of fly, comes out, it is often found to be much bigger
than the creature it lived on, and here a difficulty
presents itself which requires to be explained. How
does it happen that the ichneumon worm should be
so much bigger than the gall-insect, which is the only
substance on which it feeds ? Where does it obtain
the additional food required to produce this addi-
tional bulk ] Not from the gall-nut, for the ichneu-
mon worm does not feed on a vegetable ; and as
there is no living thing, save the larva of the gall-fly,
enclosed with it in the cell, it must in some way or
other obtain it from that. The truth is, that Nature
has taught the young of the ichneumon not to kill
the larva of the gall-fly outright; it wounds only
certain parts which are not vital, and from these it
extracts its nourishment. The gall-worm, therefore,
goes on sucking the vegetable juice, and elaborating
it into animal matter, and as fast as that process is
completed, the ichneumon worm abstracts and ap-
propriates it ; and so well-timed are the operations
of nature, that the moment the ichneumon worm
has reached its perfect state, and requires no farther
supply of food, the gall-insect, which previously
furnished it with this supply, becomes exhausted,
and perishes.

WThile some persons have supposed that a plant
could be converted into a gall-fly, others, and those,
too, accustomed to entomological investigation, have
mistaken an insect for a gall-nut. Some of our trees
appear as if covered with scabs of an oval shape :
these remain fixed, show no sign of motion, nor any
external mark by which an animal form may be re-
cognised ; nevertheless, they are true insects, and the
nearer they are to maturity, the less they exhibit
the character of animal life, and at the time they are
occupied in laying thousands of eggs, they present
the aspect of a gall-nut.

CH. IX. J THE COCHINEAL-INSECT. 167

They vary in figure, some being- globular, some
flattened, or slightly convex like the bottom of a
boat, or kidney-shaped. Some of these do not ex-
ceed in size a pepper-corn, others become as large as
a pea.

These extraordinary creatures form the genus coc-
cus of Linnaeus, and are to be reckoned among the
insects which are directly useful to man. Formerly,
a species of these insects, the coccus Polonicus;
formed a considerable article of commerce in Poland.
The coccus cacti, or the cochineal-insect of South
America, however, has now, by the superiority of
the crimson dye it affords, superseded the other. In
1518, the Spaniards found it used by the Americans,
for the purposes of dyeing ; yet its true nature was
not discovered for nearly two centuries after, when
the observations of Hartsoeker, Leeuwenhoek, De la
Hire, and Geoffroy clearly proved it to be an insect,
and not, as was supposed, a grain, or seed. This in-
sect feeds on the nopal, which is a species of fig-tree
very common in New Spain, and in some parts of
India: the leaves are thick, and full of saccharine
juice. At the approach of the rainy season the cul-
tivators sweep from the leaves several little insects,
resembling a bug, which suck the green plant. They
preserve them in their own houses, and feed them
with the branches of the nopal. At the close of the
rainy season twelve or fourteen of these insects, by

168 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. li

that time grown strong-, are put into little baskets
made of moss or the down that covers the cocoa-nut.
These baskets are placed on the nopal, and in a few
days the cochineal insects spread themselves over
the tree, and give birth to an infinite number of
young. . In the immediate vicinity of Oaxaca, the
cultivators of this insect feed it in the plains during
the dry season, which extends from October to April.
In the month of April the rain sets in, and continues
until October. At the beginning of this season they
transport their stock of insects, and place them to
feed on plantations of nopals in the neighbouring
mountains, where the weather is more favourable.
The dams live but a little time after they have laid
their eggs, and are what may be called the first crop.
The young, forsaking the baskets, disperse them-
selves over all the verdure of the nopal, and thrive to
that degree, that in the space of three months they
become prolific in their turn. The second brood are
permitted to live, but all the parents are carried home
and killed : the new offspring on the tree have like-
wise their young at the end of about three months ;
but lest they should all be destroyed by the rainy
season, the cultivators carry home the parents as
well as their offspring, and this is the third produce.
A sufficient number of the young insects are pre-
served to continue the species the next year, and all
the rest are killed in hot water, or ovens, or upon
the flat stones with which the American women
bake their bread. The inside of the insects thus
destroyed is filled with the beautiful red dust so well
known to dyers. Plantations containing fifty or
sixty thousand trees, growing in straight lines, may
be seen in some districts of America. The quan-
tity of insects annually exported from South Ame-
rica is valued at £500,000. The Spanish government
are jealous of its being naturalized elsewhere, while
a reward of £6000 is offered by the East India Com-
pany for its introduction into our territories. The

CH. IX.] THE COCHINEAL-INSECT. 169

figures of the female cochineal-insect, magnified,
will give a good idea of this genus generally.

Their trunk is so brittle that they cannot be moved
from their place without breaking it ; an accident
which would prove fatal to them : the consequence
is, that during the whole term of their life they re-
main fixed to the spot where they first settled, and
to the vegetable nipple which feeds them. When
the females have attained the age of puberty, the
males are supplied with wings, and enabled to quit
the plant on which they were hatched. The females
remain stationary, and hatch their young on the
spot ; but the latter would soon become so numerous
as to be at a loss for space to feed on, while they
are so delicate, that it would be impossible for them
to pass from one plant to another, if nature did not
provide for them admirable means of emigration : at
the period of their birth a multitude of spiders fasten
their nets to the leaves of the nopal ; and it is along
these slender threads, which answer the purposes of
a bridge, that the brood of the cochineal-insect emi-
grates to a neighbouring tree in quest of food.

The gall-nuts used in making ink are produced by
an insect which punctures the leaves of a species of
oak very common in Asia Minor, where they are
collected in considerable quantities by the poorer in-
habitants: from the different ports of the Levant
they are exported to various parts of the world.
The galls held in the greatest estimation are those
I.— P

170 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IX.

known in commerce under the name of blue galls.
These are the produce of the first gathering, before
the fly has issued from the gall. Those which may
have been overlooked in the first gathering, and from
which the fly may afterward have emerged in its
perfect form, are called white galls : these are of a
very inferior quality, containing less of the astringent
principle than the blue galls, in the proportion of
two to three.

The true vermilion kermes, and a variety of other
valuable colours or drugs have no other origin than
the punctures of different insects : many plants are
covered with them, and it seems probable that we
daily import from other countries commodities
which we might procure at home. The persons
who gather the kermes take the insect when ripe
and spread it upon linen, turning it at first while it
abounds in moisture twice or thrice a-day, to pre-
vent its heating. When there appears red powder
among it, they separate it, passing it. through a sieve,
and then again spread out the grain upon the linen,
until more red powder becomes visible; and the
same process is repeated until it ceases to yield any
more of this substance.

In the beginning, when the small red grains are
seen to move, as they will do. they are sprinkled
over \yith strong vinegar, and rubbed between the
hands ; afterward, little balls are made of them,
which are exposed to the sun to dry. If this pow-
der should be let alone, without pouring vinegar 01
some other acid liquor upon it, out of every grain
would come forth a little fly, which v/ould skip and
wing about for a day or two, and at last, changing
its colour, fall down quite dead.

Another species of the cocci produce the article
of commerce called gum-lac. The insect is of a
deep red colour, of the general shape of this tribe,
and not bigger than a louse. It infests certain trees
of the fig kind in the large forests of Hindostan

CH. IX.] THE COCHINEAL-INSECT. 171

in such innumerable multitudes, that their upper
branches appear as if covered with blood. About
November and Decernbsr the young leave the shel-
ter afforded by the carcass of the mother, and, after
wandering about the stems and branches, fix on the
succulent extremities of the newest shoots. Towards
the middle of.January they are motionless, exhibiting
no signs of life, though as plump as before, and are
glued to the branch by a viscid and semi-transparent
liquor. In March, the cells, as Kerr calls them, are
completely formed ; that is, the carcass of the in-
sect is now an oval red bag, the size of a cochineal,
and full of a beautiful red liquor. In November or
December, about twenty or thirty oval eggs are
found within the red fluid of the mother. When
this fluid is expended, the young pierce a hole
through the carcass of their parent, and walk off one
by one, leaving the tattered remains of their old
covering behind them. This is the white substance
which is seen in stick-lac. These young, like their
parents, proceed to fix themselves on some tender
and juicy shoot. Kerr calculates that only one in
six can have room to complete its cell, the others
dying or being eaten by birds, which, should they
perch on any of the branches loaded with these in-
sects, must with their feet necessarily carry off num-
bers to the next tree on which they may happen to
alight. The quantity of sap which they pump out
turns the branches of a dirty black.

There are four kinds of lac — the stick-lac, which
is the substance in its natural state, and from which
the others are all made. 2. Seed-lac, or the shells
separated from the sticks. 3. Lump-lac, or the seed
melted down and made into cakes. 4. Shell-lac, or
the shells liquefied, strained, and formed into thin
transparent layers. The gum-lac is principally ga-
thered on the uncultivated mountains on both sides
of the Ganges, where it is produced in such astonish-
ing quantities, that it would supply ten times the

172 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IX.

demand which exists for it ; and the only trouble
required in gathering this substance consists in break-
ing down the branches and carrying them to market.

The shell-lac is used by the natives in making or-
naments, rings, necklaces, and bracelets ; when im-
pregnated with cinnabar it forms sealing-wax, or, as
the Dutch call it, segel-lak (seal-lac). When heated
and mixed with a black powder, it may be spread
on a box or other article for the purpose of japanning
it. It also enters into the composition of various
varnishes. It affords likewise a beautiful red colour
by throwing the insect into water.

Of the insects which are common to various parts
of Europe, it may be said that the cocci fix them-
selves to such plants as are hardy enough to pass the
winter through. " All that I know," says Reaumur,
" require a plant capable of nourishing them for one
year, the natural term of the life of these insects."
While young they attach themselves to the leaves,
and as these wither away, descend to the branches,
where they adhere during the winter. As spring
returns, they become fecundated, and prepare to
perpetuate their species. One of these insects,
which sucks the juice of the peach, is boat-shaped';
its skin, which is all that can be seen, is exactly like
the fine bark of the cherry-tree. On looking at the
peach, some of these gall-insects may be observed
dry and dead, others alive, though immoveable ;
those on the old branches are for the most part of
the former, those in the new shoots of the latter class
They may farther be known by the colour of the
latter being more brilliant than that of the former ;
and also by the dead ones being easily pushed off
with the finger or a penknife, while the live insect
adheres : a more violent push kills them ; and they
yield a thick liquid substance, similar to that which
is produced by crushing any other species of living
insect. The spot from whence the coccus has been
removed is covered with a downy cotton, which

CH. IX*] THE PEACH-INSECT. 173

transpires or exudes from the abdominal surface of
the insect."

If the coccus of the peach be examined about the
end of May, it will be difficult to persuade ourselves
that the little skinny globe which presents itself to
the eye is an insect : there is no fleshy texture ; it has
the appearance of a little tortoise-shell, under which
is concealed an infinite number of very diminutive
grains ; these are the eggs of the insect, which,
when expelled, are hatched under the carcass of their
dead parent. If these protuberances be removed,
beginning at the top and proceeding downwards, so

as not to let their eggs fall, they may readily be col-
lected. In these figures the little dots represent
the eggs ; if, however, the gall-like protuberance be
transversely divided with a penknife, both the con-
tents and the arrangement of the eggs will be ob-
served more readily. Hence it would seem, that at
first these creatures have a form like many other in-
sects, that after ^ a time they fix themselves to the
tree, and suck its juice, and that their extraordinary
distention is owing to an innumerable quantity of
eggs contained at first within the abdomen, and ulti-
mately protruded. Nature has taught most other
insects to protect their young by furnishing them in
their period of helplessness with a habitation com-
posed of silk or some other substance. The coccus,
however, from the moment the eggs are laid, de-
P9

174 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. IX.

fends them from the elements and their natural
enemies by its own body, and after death still shel-
ters them with its carcass. It may at first sight ap-
pear extraordinary that a fleshy body, when dead,
should not putrefy; this, however, will be intelligi-
ble, if the following figures be attended to. The
first (fig. 1) represents the under surface of the in-

sect; this is nearly plane, and is exactly fitted to the
tree. As the eggs are protruded, they are placed,
by a sort of peristaltic motion, between the skin of
the belly and the layer of cotton which covers the
spot of the tree to which the insect is attached. As
more eggs are laid, the skin of the belly is pushed
nearer that of the back, till at length the two skins
are thrust close together by means of the eggs, and
the under part of the insect assumes a concave shape
(fig. 2). Under the influence of this pressure, an
absorbing process goes on, which leaves no putres-
cible matter behind. Hence it arises that, when our
little insect yields to the general law, and dies.almost
immediately after perpetuating the species, its car-
cass is as sure a protection to its young, when dead,
as its body was when alive.

The time during which the young cocci remain
in the egg is not determined by Reaumur ; he conjec-
tures, however, that they take twelve days, and af-
terward remain several days under the skin of their
mother, before they emancipate themselves, and go
out into their little world of leaf or stem. At this
period of their existence, they exhibit, in their acti-
vity, nothing of the peculiarities just detailed ; they
soon, however, select and fix upon a suitable part

CH. IX.] THE PEACH-INSECT. 175

of a plant : the male insect, which is destined to
become a small winged creature, as soon as it has
its wings, crawls out backwards from its larval skin,
which served it for a cocoon while undergoing its
nymphine metamorphosis.

The opening by which they quit their maternal
prison is provided also by nature. The posterior
portion of the body of the mother is cloven, and
cannot be exactly fitted to the tree — hence, the
young can escape without lacerating those parental
remains which had sheltered them even after death.

After having got abroad, they fix themselves to
the leaves of trees, and their growth from June to
October, when they enlarge a little, is slow, but it is
only in the following April that they be gin to assume
perceptibly a globular shape. At the falling of the
leaf, however, nature has taught them to retire to
the stem of the tree, where they finish their life. As
soon as the male has acquired wings, it does not fly
away, but walks, and it is towards the females fixed
on the tree that its steps are directed. The size of
the former is so small, in comparison with that of
the latter, that the globular body of the female ap-
pears a spacious territory, for the diminutive male
to walk about.

There are other kinds of gall-insects, which do
not cover their young with their bodies, but secrete
a quantity of downy cotton, sufficient to form a
species of cocoon, on which they perch themselves.
The dark spot is the insect, the white bag the cocoon.

176 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. X.

CHAPTER X.

APHIS, OR PLANT-LOUSE.

Every Tree, every part of a Tree has its peculiar Species— SucJc Vege-
table Juices — Shelter themselves from bad Weather in the concave
parts of Leaves.

AMONG the most curious of those animals which
are parasitical on plants, is the aphis, or plant-louse.
It is an insect common enough in our fields and
gardens, and there is scarcely a tree or shrub which
is not attacked by one or more species peculiar to
itself. Some are winged, and others have no wings ;
and some are black, green, brown, in short, all co-
lours : but however they may vary in these non-es-
sentials, their habits and instincts are similar. They
live in society, and attach themselves to the stems,
the leaves, and roots of shrubs and vegetables, the
juices of which they suck by means of a tube, with
which they are furnished for the purpose ; and they
frequently cling in such numbers to the sustaining
plant, as to give it a most unsightly appearance.

If the rose-tree, or any other plant, be carefully ex-
amined, some portion of it will be found covered with
little transparent insects of a green colour. They
appear to be in a state of perfect repose : they are.,
however, in reality, diligently occupied in pumping
out the juices of the plant. The following is a
magnified figure of the insect. The length of the
sucking pump or trunk, in some species, extends
beyond the body ; when they walk, it is folded under
the belly : in the generality, however, the ordinary
length of this member is about one-third that of the
insect. While employed in using this instrument,
they form at times two layers, one over the other ;

CH. X.]

THE PLANT-LOUSE.

177

the second or upper layer walk freely over the first,
and not being able to suck, are diligently employed
in bringing forth young.

These immense societies of suckers must of course
drain the leaf, and exhaust the juices of the plant to
which they are attached : this is the fact, and, by
Leeuwenhoek, they have been truly termed the pests
of the garden. However, the effect is occasionally
curious enough ; for instead of withering, the parts
to which the aphides are attached enlarge or twist,
and by so doing furnish shelter to their enemies.
The insect chooses the concavity of a shoot, for ex-
ample, and this, through loss of juice, being diverted
from its straight direction, assumes the shape of a
corkscrew ; in the concave folds of this diverted shoot
it is that the aphis shelters itself from the weather.

Reaumur says that this curve takes place on the
side from which the insects suck the juices, for the
same reason that a piece of wood soaked in water,

178 NATURAL HIST OR V. [cH. X.

and exposed to the action of the fire, is bent to the
side acted upon by that element. Another effect of
the curling- of the shoot is, that the leaves, which,
if extended, would stand far apart, are so drawn to-
gether as to form a complete covering*, and thus the
insects are at once defended from wind and rain,
and concealed from the view of their natural ene
mies.

If shoots can be bent by insects which attacn
themselves to this portion of a plant, the leaves
must of course be more easily susceptible of this
operation.

Generally, they seek the under surface of the
leaves, probably as that part which affords them
most shelter. If the upper surface of a gooseberry,
currant, or apple leaf be examined, it will be found
studded with pale, reddish, or citron-coloured emi-
nences ; and on the under surface, cavities will be
discovered answering to these eminences, and peo-
pled with aphides. These portions of the leaf are
thicker than the rest.

A still more remarkable change of form is caused
in the plant by the developement of galls formed by
the plant-louse. When opened, they will be found
hollow, arid tilled with a colony of these creatures,
In size they vary from that of a nut to that of the
Iranian fist. *

CH. X.J THE PLANT-LOUSE. 179

It has been already stated, that the formation of
the true gall-nut is owing to the deposition of an
egg in some part of a plant. But in the formation of
the protuberances inhabited by the aphides there
is this remarkable difference; that the parent, in-
stead of burying her offspring, buries herself, and
then, as the walls of her wonderful mansion rise up
around and enclose her, she begins to people her
abode. When Reaumur examined the smallest of
these at its first formation, he found it tenanted by
one old aphis only : — when he examined a larger
gall-nut he found, in addition to the old aphis, one
or two young ones — and in a protuberance of a
larger size still, he discovered a more abundant po-
pulation. The mode by which the insect is at last
thoroughly enclosed is thus described by him : — " Let
us imagine that the mother-aphis, still young, pricks
the leaf; the punctured spot sweils all around the
insect, and consequently it becomes enclosed within
a little cavity. If it continue to prink it at the low-
est part of this cavitv* this place will go on swelling
in length, so as to become oblong or cylindrical.
Let us conceive tAat the insect always continues to
puncture it forwards *, as soon as the gall has risen
to a certain height above the superior surface of the
leaf, the insect is no longer in its original position ;
viz. on the plane of the inferior surface of the leaf.
Here then it is that there is a small opening into the
incipient bladder ; this aperture is only an indenta-
tion in the leaf. As soon as the insect removes from

180 NATURAL HISTORY. [dl. X.

the aperture towards the other end of the bladder,
nothing tends to hinder the bent sides from meeting
soonest at the narrowest part, and so at last closing
it up entirely. Here then we have the insect shut
up in an oblong sack or bladder. It brings'fbrth
young, these prick the gall, and suck the juice on all
sides, so that being thus irritated in every direction,
it grows in every direction, and consequently a glo-
bular form results. And as the punctures are al-
ways in a direction farthest from the original aper-
ture, that part enlarges least ; and consequently the
gall appears to be attached to the leaf by a pedicle
or foot-stalk."

Another class of aphides, which inhabit the poplar,
instead of forming galls, contrive to double the leaf
so nicely on the nerve which runs through the mid-
dle, as to bring the two edges exactly together, and
so construct a closed sack. This they effect by
pricking the under surface in various places, so as to
give rise to small galls, which cause the leaf to curve.
Reaumur observes that these punctures must be made
according to some definite measure on each side of
the centre nervure, or else the edges of the two sides
would not exactly meet. Besides these modes of
protection, few species of aphides destined to live

CH. X.] THE PLANT-LOUSE. 181

in the open air have been discovered, wnich are not
encased in a downy stuff.

The injury inflicted by the aphis maybe estimated
from the following- extract : — " Our apple-trees here
are greatly injured, and some annually destroyed by
the agency of what seems to be a very feeble insect.
We call it from habit, or from some unassigned
cause, the ' American blight' (aphis lanata) ; this nox-
ious creature being known in some orchards by the
more significant name of 'white blight.' In the
spring of the year a slight hoariness is observed upon
the branches of certain species of our orchard fruit.
As the season advances, this hoariness increases, it
becomes cottony, and towards the middle or end of
summer, the under sides of some of the branches
are invested with a thick, downy substance, so long
as, at times, to be sensibly agitated by the air. Upon
examining this substance, we find that it conceals a
multitude of small, wingless creatures, which are
busily employed in preying upon the limb of the tret;
beneath. This they are well enabled to do by means
of a beak terminating in a fine bristle ; this being
insinuated through the bark, and the sappy part of the
wood, enables the creature to extract, as with a sy-
ringe, the sweet, vital liquor that circulates in the
plant. This terminating bristle is not observed in
every individual : in those that possess it, it is of
different lengths, and is usually, when not in use, so
closely concealed under the breast of the animal, as
to be invisible. In the younger insects it is often
manifested by protruding like a fine termination to
the anus ; but as their bodies become lengthened the
bristle is not in this way observable. The alburnum
or sap wood, being thus wounded, rises up in excres-
cences and nodes all over the branch, and deforms
it ; the limb, deprived of its nutriment, grows sickly ;
the leaves turn yellow, and the part perishes. Branch
after branch is thus assailed, until they .all become
leafless, and the tree dies.
L-Q

182 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH, X.

" Aphides in general attack the young- and softer
parts of plants ; but this insect seems easily to wound
the harder bark of the apple, and by no means nxakes
choice of the most tender part of the branch. They
give a preference to certain sorts, but not always the
most rich fruits ; as cider apples and wildings are
greatly infested by them, and from some unknown
cause other varieties seem to be exempted from their
depredations. The Wheeler's russet, and Crofton
pippin, I have never observed to be injured by them.
This insect is viviparous, or produces its young alive,
forming1 a cradle for them by discharging from the
extremities of its body a quantity of long, cottony
matter, which, becoming interwoven and entangled,
prevents the young from falling to the earth, and
completely envelopes the parent and offspring. In
this cottony substance we observe, as soon as the
creature becomes animated in the spring, and as
long as it remains in vigour, many round pellucid
bodies, which, at the first sight, look like eggs, only
that they are larger than we might suppose to be
ejected by the animal. They consist of a sweet,
glutinous fluid, and are probably the discharges of the
aphis, and the first food of its young. That it thus
consumed I conjecture from its diminution, and its
by no means increasing so fast as faecal matter would
do, from such perpetually feeding creatures. I have
not, in any instance, observed the young to proceed
from these globular bodies, though they are found of
various ages at all times during the season. This
lanuginous vestiture seems to serve likewise as a
vehicle for dispersing the animal ; for though most
of our species of aphis are furnished with wings, I
have never seen any individual of this American
blight so provided, but the winds wafting about small
tufts of this downy matter, convey the creature with
it from tree to tree throughout the whole orchard.
In the autumn, when this substance is generally long,
the winds and rains of the season effectually disperse

CH. X.] THE PLAXT-LOTTSE. 183

these insects, and we observe them endeavouring to
secrete themselves in the crannies of any neighbour-
ing substance. Should the savoy cabbage be near
the trees whence they have been dislodged, the ca-
•vities of the under sides of its leaves are commonly
favourite asylums for them. Multitudes perish by
these rough removals, but numbers yet remain ; and
we may find them in the nodes and crevices, on the
under sides of the branches, at any period of the
year, the long, cottony vesture being removed, but
still they are enveloped in a fine, short, downy
clothing, to be seen by a magnifier, proceeding appa-
rently from every suture, or pore of their bodies, and
protecting them in their dormant state from the mois-
ture and frosts of our climate. This aphis, in a na-
tural state, usually awakens and commences its la-
bours very early in the month of March ; and the hoari-
ness on its body may be observed increasing daily :
but if an infected branch be cut in the winter, and kept
in water in a warm room, these aphides will awaken
speedily, spin their cottony vests, and feed, and
discharge, as accustomed to do in a genial season.
" tt is often very difficult to ascertain the first ap-
pearance of many creatures not natives of our cli-
mate, though from the progress of science, and more
general observation, many things will be recorded.
The first visit of this aphis to us is by no means
clear. The epithet of American blight maybe cor-
rectly applied ; but we have no sufficient authority
o conclude that we derived this pest from that coun-
try. Normandy and the Netherlands, too, have each
been supposed to have conferred this evil upon us ;
but extensively as this insect is spread around, and
favourable as our climate appears to be to its increase,
it bids fair to destroy in progression most of our old-
est and long-esteemed fruit from our orchards. The
same unknown decree, which regulates the increase
and decrease of all created beings, influences this
insect; yet wet seasons, upon the whole, seem

184 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. X.

genial to its constitution. In the hot dry summer of

1825, it was abundant every where ; in the spring of

1826, which was unusually fine and dry, it abounded
in such incredible luxuriance, that many trees seemed
at a short distance as if they had been white washed:
in the ensuing summer, which was a very dry and
hot one, this cottony matter so entirely disappeared,
that to superficial observation the malady was not in
existence ; and it did not become manifest again
until September, when, after the rains of that season,
it reissued in fine, cottony patches, from the old
nodes on the trees." *

From the peculiar powers with which nature has
invested the aphides, and from their extraordinary
fecundity, for they are both oviparous and viviparous,
no rational man can doubt that they form an im-
portant link in the economy of the universe. Their
inordinate increase is kept in check by other insects,
which appear to be born for no other purpose than
that of devouring them. Such is the voracity of
this tribe, that naturalists term them aphidivorous
insects: they are of different species, having few
qualities in common except this faculty of devouring
the plant-louse ; the same instinct which impels cer-
tain insects to deposite their eggs in the midst of the
food which is to support the yet unborn young, causes
others, in like manner, to place their eggs in the
midst of the habitations of the aphides. In this
way the larvae of some species of syrphus, and of
hemerobius, are, as Reaumur says, "bom in the
midst of a people, pacific, and unprovided with
offensive or defensive arms, who patiently await the
mortal blow without suspecting the quarter whence
it comes."

Tke strength and size of the syrphus in com-
parison with its victim, the aphis, is that of a lion
to a kid.

•Journal of a Naturalist, p. 347—352, 2d ed.

CH.X.] THE PLANT-LOUSE. 185

In the following magnified figure (fig. 1) it will be
seen that the larva tapers from the head to the tail ;

under the head is a mouth, which (fig. 2) appears
armed with two horny pins, and a trident-like dart ;
between these is the orifice of the mouth. The
creature has the power of emitting a glutinous se-
cretion, by means of which it fixes itself to a spot
well stocked with aphides, where, like a wolf in a
sheepfold, it commits the most dreadful havoc : thus
attached to a stem or a leaf, there is no other animal
of prey which hunts with so much ease. It begins
by turning its head in all directions, backwards, for-
wards, and sideways, until it meets with a plant-
louse, which it instantly transfixes with its dart : it
then contrives to adjust the body of the aphis over
its mouth like a cork, and in an instant the victim,
with its leg stretched out, is sucked dry.

Reaumur used to make these syrphi fast a few
hours, and then placing one on his hand, he could
with the assistance of a lens see the whole operation
of feeding, and observe the juices, and even the
young aphides sucked out of the body of their parent,
go down the transparent gullet of the voracious
larva. The drained skin of the aphis is then thrown
aside.

It is easy to calculate, that if they ate incessantly
they would destroy a prodigious number of aphides.

Reaumur has seen a piece of stalk seven or eight
inches long, and covered with plant-lice, completely
cleared in four days by two or three aphidivorous
worms,

Q2

186 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. x.

After having eaten its fill, in its appointed time it
seeks the hollow of a leaf, glues itself to it, and con-
tracting its body into an oval, undergoes that species
of metamorphosis in which the insect retracts itself
within its own skin, which, becoming hard, forms a
cocoon, and ultimately appears in its perfect form
of a fly.

Another enemy of the aphis is an insect, called by
Reaumur the lion of the aphides (hemerobius).
" We sow grain," says he, " in our land, for the pur-
pose of providing ourselves with food. It appears
that nature rears aphides on plants for the purpose
of feeding other species of insects, which, without
them, would perish of hunger."

The following figure is a larva of the lion of the

aphides ; a title which it well deserves from its vo-
racity. The largest plant-louse is sucked by it in a
few moments ; and, like its prototype, it is not inac-
tive, but hunts for its prey. They do not spare even
each other ; for, if by chance one of its own species
should be found between its suckers, it makes not

CH. X.] THE HEMEROBIUS. 187

the least objection to this substitute for its natural
food.

Reaumur shut up twenty of these ravenous crea-
tures in a box, and supplied them with aphides for
food ; they were reduced in a few days to three or
four, these having eaten the rest.

They spin a cocoon which is globular, and not
bigger than a pea, and yet the full-grown insect
conies out with a pair of such ample wings, that it
is a matter of astonishment how these, together wi Ih
the insect, could be packed up in so small a ca&e.
These wings are so fine that the solar rays are
broken upon them as on a prism ; indeed, the whole
form of the insect, with its large lustrous eyes, gos-
samer wings, the tender shining and golden green
of its body, is strikingly beautiful.

The eggs which it lays are remarkable, inasmuch
as they present the appearance of parasitical plants,
growing from the leaf to which they are attached ;
the stalks are about an inch in length, white and
transparent. The mode in which they are attached
to the extremities of these hairs is thus explained
by Reaumur.

The egg is enveloped in a viscous matter fit for
forming silk. Being in part protruded, the insect
applies the end of the egg bedewed with this sub-
stance to the leaf, and a portion of the glutinous
stuff thus adheres to it. It then withdraws its ab-
domen, and by doing so, the viscid drop is length-

188 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. X.

ened out ; by the time the egg is expressed, and the
body of the insect withdrawn from it, it is found
attached to a thread formed of glutinous matter,
which now, being dry, is capable of supporting the
egg. In due time the worm pierces its aerial habi-
tation, descends upon the leaf, and finds itself in the
midst of a colony of aphides, which it instantly
attacks. The obvious use of these stalks appears
to be to preserve the egg from being covered or in-
jured by the aphides But whether this be the true
explanation is uncertain.

The larva of another kind of hemerobius clothes
itself in an artificial manner, and for this purpose
uses the skins of those unfortunate plant-lice which
it had previously sucked. Indeed it piles up such a
quantity of them on its back, as to look as if it car-
ried a little mountain. This ostentatious exhibi
tion of its trophies does not appear to arise from any
sentiment of vainglory; for when Reaumur re-
moved these skins, the insect clothed itself with the
fragments of its cocoon ; and on this coat too being
taken away, an abundant supply of paper-shavings
was placed within its reach : " Never," says Reau-
mur, " was so much convenient matter placed at the
disposal of any insect of this kind ; and accordingly
a thicker, more complete, and a higher vest was
never borne, perhaps, by any other little lion."

The structure of the covering thus formed is rude
enough. The parts adhere for the same reason that
shreds of any thing adhere to one another. The
insect, however, places them on its back with much
address ; it lays hold of the material or skin between
its hor'as, so that it rests on its head ; it then gives
a toss, and pitches it to the desired spot ; if not suc-
cessful, a few contortions of its body bring it right.
The reason of this anxiety to invest their bodies
with such a strange covering appears to be to de-
ceive the birds, which consider them as dainties —
at least this is M. DumeriPs opinion. It is more

CH. X.] THE HEMEROBIUS. 189

easy to believe it when stated, than to know how
the author of the assertion could find it out.

Another enemy of the aphis is the larva of the
lady-bird. It is difficult to trace the origin of the
popular custom which ensures protection to these
insects. In France they are called Betes de la
Vierge, or Tactics a Dieu, as if under the tutelary
patronage of the Virgin herself. But they really
deserve all the protection they receive ; for while
they leave our hops and valuable plants uninjured,
they destroy the greatest enemy of these vegetables
— the plant-louse. " If," says Kirby, " we could
only discover a mode of increasing these insects at
will, we might not only, as Dr. Darwin has suggested,
clear out hot-houses of aphides by their means, but
render our crops of hops much more certain than
they now are." In 1827, the shore at Brighton, and
all the watering places on the south coast, were
literally covered with them, to the terror of the in-
habitants: they being ignorant that these insects
were emigrating after having cleared the neighbour-
ing hop-grounds of the destructive aphis.

It furnishes a subject of serious consideration, as
well as an argument for a special providence, to
Know, that the accurate Reaumur, and other natu-
ralists, have observed, that when any kind of insect
has increased inordinately, their natural enemies
have increased in the same proportion and thus pre-
served the balance.

190 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. X!

CHAPTER XL

Gnat — Bug — Fly-bug — Flea— Chigoe — Louse — Mites and Thicks —
Gad-fly,

THERE are few insects with whose form we are
better acquainted than that of the gnat. It is to be
found in all latitudes and climates ; as prolific in the
polar as in the equatorial regions. In 1736 they
were so numerous, and were seen to rise in such
clouds from Salisbury cathedral, that they looked
like columns of smoke, and frightened the people,
who thought the building was on fire. In 1766, they
appeared at Oxford in the form of a thick black
cloud; six columns were observed to ascend the
height of fifty or sixty feet. Their bite was attended
with alarming inflammation. To some appearances
of this kind our great poet Spenser alludes, in the
following beautiful simile : —

As xvhen a swarm of gnats at eventide,

Out of the fennes of Allan doe arise,

Their murmurring small trumpets sownden wide,

Whiles in the air their clust'ring army flies,

That as a cloud doth seem to dim the ckies ;

Ne man nor beast may rest or take repast,

For their sh-irp wounds and noyous injuries,

Till the fierce northern wind, with blus ering blast,

Doth blow them quite away, and in the ocean cast.

In Lapland their numbers have been compared to
a flight of snow when the flakes fall thickest, and the
minor evil of being nearly suffocated by smoke is
endured to get rid of these little pests. Captain
Stedman says, that he and his soldiers were so tor-
mented by gnats in America that they were obliged
to dig holes in the ground with their bayonets, and
thrust their heads into them for protection and sleep.
Humboldt states, that "between the little harbour

CH. XI.] THE GNAT. 191

of Higuerote and the mouth of the Rio-Unare, the
wretched inhabitants are accustomed to stretch
themselves on the ground, and pass the night buried
in the sand three or four inches deep, exposing only
the head, which they cover with a handkerchief."

After enumerating these and other examples of
the achievements of the gnat and mosquito tribe,
Kirby says, " It is not therefore incredible that
Sapor, king of Persia, should have been compelled
to raise the siege of Nisibis by a plague of gnats,
which attacked his elephants and beasts of burden,
and so caused the rout of his army ; nor that the
inhabitants of various cities should, by an extraor-
dinary multiplication of this plague, have been com-
pelled to desert them ; nor that, by their power of
doing mischief, like other conquerors who have been
the torment of the human race, they should have
attained to fame, and have given their name to bays,
towns, and territories."*

The instrument with which they inflict their tor-
tures, simple as it appears to the eye, is neverthe-
less wonderfully complicated and ingenious : it
forms a set of lancets, consisting of five pieces,
enclosed in a case. This case is split from one end
to the other, and, as the creature sucks, it serves to
give steadiness to the instruments, while they are
thrust forward into our flesh. In the first figure
(Jig' 1), the lancets alone are seen entering, and
their case forms an arc, supporting them. In the
second (Jig. 2), the lancets are perceived to have
penetrated more deeply, while the case, not enter-
ing, is seen to form an angle.

In order to see the whole process of suction,
Reaumur courted what most others sedulously shun
— a sting or two : " After a gnat had done me the
kindness of settling on the hand I stretched out, I
saw that it protruded a very fine point from its pro-

* Mosquito Bay. Mosquitos, a town in Cuba, Mosquito country
in North America.

192

NATURAL HISTORY.

. XI

boscis, with the extremity of which it felt four 01
five spots of my skin. It would appear that it knows
where it can pierce through most easily, and reach
a large blood-vessel. Having selected a spot for its
operations, it soon causes the sufferer to feel its
sting." The fine point when magnified presents the
following formidable picture, of which some of the

detached pieces seem admirably fitted for the gnat's
purpose and our annoyance. It is not however, the
introduction of these points, which, when combined,
are as much less in size than the finest needle, as
that is than a sword, that causes the irritation which,
when extended over the limb, has in some cases ren-
dered amputation necessary— the gnat introduces a
little liquid, for the purpose, as Reaumur conjectures,
of rendering our thick blood thin enough to be
sucked through its proboscis. To allay the effects
of this poison, there seems to be no better or readier
means than sweet-oil, which, if applied to the wound
within a few hours after it has been made, will re-
move the swelling, although when delayed five or
six hours it has no effect.

CH. XI.] THE GNAT. 193

The gnat undergoes many metamorphoses. If
water be allowed for some time to stand still in a
bucket, or if a quantity of that fluid be taken from
a stagnant pool, it will be found to contain innu-
merable aquatic insects of the following shape (fig. 1) :
these are the larvae of the gnat ; they swim with the
head downwards, a position which, to most animals,
would be fatal ; they retain the longest tube, which
is their respiratory organ, on the surface ; the other
tube forms the anus. In this state they live on the
contents of stagnant waters, and change their skins
several times.

After having thrice got rid of its skin, the gnat
appears in a new form, for, instead of being oblong,
it is lenticular ( *ig. 2). The surface of the circle is
vertical to the water. In this, which is its nymphine
state, it is still capable of moving briskly after the
manner of a shrimp, by expanding and elongating
its body (fig. 3), and striking the water with the fins
at its tail. In this stage of its metamorphosis, it
has no organ for food, and it seems to require none
but a regular arid abundant supply of air appears
indispensable ; it floats on the surface of the water,
and only descends by efforts made with its tail.
Two ears may be observed sticking out at the thick-
est part ; these are its respiratory organs, and afford
a curious instance of an import*>Vt part, being re-
l.— R

194 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XI.

moved from one extremity of the body to the other
during1 the progress of an insect through its different
stages of life.

Its last metamorphosis into a winged fly is
attended with curious circumstances. When nature
has prepared the insect to change its element, instead
of lying rolled up on the surface of the water, it
stretches out its body, and by some mechanism,
puffs up its corslet so that it splits between the stig-
mata or the breathing-horns. As soon as the fissure
is sufficiently enlarged to make way for it, the head
of the gnat appears in its perfect shape ; but this is
the most critical period of its whole life ; up to this
time it was an aquatic animal ; now it has nothing
to dread so much as the water. It has, moreover,
the use neither of leg nor wing; these members are
as yet soft, moist, and bound up, and it only pro-
trudes itself from its skin, by means of a wriggling
action given to its body. If at this critical juncture
the water should happen to touch its corslet or ab-
domen, the gnat would inevitably and instantly
perish. In such circumstances, then, it requires the
prudence of an old gnat, at least, to escape the dan-
gers which surround the young one. Nature, how-
ever, has conferred upon the insect an instinct suit-
able to the emergency. As soon as it puts out its
head, it elevates it above the water ; and worming
itself out always perpendicularly, supported only by
the inequalities of the skin which it is about to cast
off, with no power to balance itself, surrounded by
an unfriendly element, it literally becomes a canoe,

CH. XI. | THE GNAT. 193

of which its own body forms mast and sail. The
skin floats, and when the observer perceives, says
Reaumur, how much the prow of the little bark
sinks, and how near its sides are to the water, he
forgets at the moment that the gnat is an insect
which at another time he would kill ; nay, he be-
comes anxious for its fate, and the more so if the
slightest breeze play on the surface of the water :
the least agitation of the air suffices to waft the
creature with swiftness from place to place, and
make it spin round and round. Its body, folded in
its wings, bears a greater proportion to the little
skiff, than the largest mass of sail to a ship: it is
impossible not to dread lest the insect should be
wrecked ; once laid on its side on the water, there
is no escape. Reaumur has seen the surface of the
water covered with creatures of this kind which had
thus perished at their birth. Generally, however,
all terminates favourably, and the danger is over in,
a minute. After having stood perpendicularly, it
draws out its two fore-legs, and bending to the
water, places them on its surface, which is terra
firma for a gnat's weight ; having secured this posi-
tion, all is safe ; the wings dry and expand, and the
insect, quitting its natal element, mounts into the air.
It is supposed, that from the end of May to that
of October, six or seven generations of these insects
are born, and each gnat is capable of laying two
hundred and fifty eggs. These are found agglu-
tinated into a mass, and swimming about on the
surface of water : they are individually olive-shaped,
the large end being in the water, the rest in the air.

196 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XI

When conjoined, the upper surface of the mass pre-
sents to the eye the appearance of an infinite series
of points. In arranging and floating this raft of
eggs the gnat displays surprising ingenuity. They
are discharged one by one, vertically, and not hori-
zontally from the extremity of the insect ; for this
purpose it generally fixes itself on some solid sub-
stance, such as the bank of the water, or on a float-
ing leaf. Standing on its four feet, it stretches out
the two hindmost legs; these being crossed, form

an angle in which the first egg is laid ; the second is
placed next, and they adhere by means of a gluti-
nous matter surrounding each. The gnat places them
thus with the abdomen solely: when a sufficient
number of eggs have been placed side by side, to
render the base of the mass large enough to balance
the height — for it is clear that a few eggs only could
not float upright on so narrow a stem as they pos-
sess— the gnat launches its precious vessel, and
fearlessly commits its cherished young to that little
ocean which is fraught with so many dangers to
itself.

The mass thus glued together, consisting of be-
tween two hundred and fifty and three hundred eggs,
is of an oblong form, and considerably resembles a
little boat in shape. And it possesses not only the
form, but also most of the other properties of a boat ;
its fore and hind parts being sharp and higher than
the middle ; the lower part on which it always floats
being convex, and the upper part concave. It is
likewise so buoyant that no agitation of the water,
however violent, can sink it ; and what is still more
deserving of admiration, although hollow, it never

CH. XI. J THE FLY-BUG. 197

becomes filled with water, even when exposed to
the violence of the torrents which frequently ac-
company a thunder-storm. " To put this to the
test," says Kirby, "I yesterday (July 25, 1811) put
half a dozen of these boats upon the surface of a
tumbler, half-full of water. I then poured upon
them a stream of that element, from the mouth of a
quart bottle, held a foot above them. Yet after this
treatment, which was so rough as actually to project
one out of the glass, I found them floating as before
upon their bottoms, and not a drop of water within
their cavity."

Another of our tormentors is the bug, which as it
would appear has not been long known in this island.
Had the insect been common, as Kirby justly ob-
serves, the two noble ladies mentioned by Mouffet
would scarcely have mistaken their bites for plague
spots. They were first known by the name of
wall-louse. It was not until the middle of the last
century that they began to be styled bugs, or gob-
lins ; the word being of Celtic origin, and used in
old versions of the Bible, in the sense of spirit:
thus, in Matthews's Bible, Ps. xci. 5, the passage
translated in our modern version, " Thou shalt not
be afraid for the terror by night," is rendered, " Thou
shalt not nede to be afraide of any bugs by night."
Horrible ac these disgusting creatures are, it would
appear that, at Surat, there was, or perhaps there
still is, a Banian hospital, containing not only horses,
pigs, mules, oxen, sheep, goats, monkeys, pigeons,
and poultry, but also an extraordinary ward appro-
priated to rats, mice, and bugs; and Forbes, upon
the authority of whose Oriental Memoirs this is
stated, adds, that beggars are hired, who, for a sti-
pulated sum, agree to pass a night at this institution,
in order to afford " the fleas, lice, and bugs" an un-
molested feast !

A species of bug, described by Geoffrey unde
the name of fly-bug (reduvius personatus), is an in-
R2

198 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XI.

habitant of our dwellings. It prowls about in dis-
guise, at night, and, among other insects, shows it-
self the uncompromising enemy of the loathsome
bed-bug. Kirby thinks it ought on this account to
be encouraged ; but its own bite, as painful as the
sting of the bee, and its supposed power of com-
municating an electric shock on the slightest contact,
would render the remedy somewhat worse than the
evil. Tn its three states of grub, nymph, and winged
insect, it is ever on the look out for food. Being
slow of motion, though capable, like a crab, of
walking backwards, sideways, or forwards, it is
obliged to entrap its prey by masking itself: hence
its cognomen, " personatus." Knowing that the
insects for which it is on the hunt are accustomed
to the sight of dirt, cobwebs, flue, and such other
materials as are usually found in the habitations of
man, the reduvius piles upon itself bits of hair, flour,
down of feathers, sawdust or plaster, so as to en-
^arge its own dimensions to twice or thrice the na-
tural size ; and thus accoutred it is scarcely to be
recognised by its prey, or by its own enemies, as
any thing but a ball of flue. When it sees a bug, or
spider, or any soft-bodied insect, it approaches its
destined victim with the most guarded caution.
Sometimes the little lump of gathered dust seems to
be blown about the room in a zig-za^ direction :
sometimes it is puffed into the air, and falls as if a
chance gust had acted on it. These motions, how-
ever, are any thing but unintentional. After stealth-
ily sideling, or making little leaps, followed by
intervals of motionless repose, the better to deceive
its prey, the creature at last contrives to secure,
paralyze, and suck its victim's juices to the very
last drop. When it has acquired the wings of its
perfect state, it doffs its cassock, and boldly flies
about without disguise.

The flea is another of our pests, yet it has been
domesticated by some curious persons. Thus, the

CH« XL] THE CHIGOE OR JIGGER. 199

naturalist Willoughby kept a tame one, which was
fed not only with, but literally out of, his own hand,
being permitted to suck his blood. Others have
contrived a pigmy chariot, cut from the cherry-
stone, to be dragged by a team of these nimble
creatures. Wherever they swarm it is no easy
matter to get rid of them. In order to prevent be-
ing eaten up by these insects and lice, the Hunga-
rian shepherds are said to grease their bodies and
linen with lard, so that even these unscrupulous tor-
mentors are deterred from the filthy banquet. They
abound so much in the Missouri country, that the
natives are often obliged to shift their quarters.
Once when th late Dr. Clarke was rejoicing at the
thought of passing one night free from vermin, his
expectations were speedily dissipated by the sheikh
of the district, who assured him that the " king of
the fleas held his court at Tiberias."

The chigoe or jigger is a species of this genus.
The female lodges under the skin, where it breeds

its young. Formerly the genus of the insect was a
subject of dispute ; and a capuchin friar suffered one
to breed in his great toe, for the purpose of bringing
it up to determine the point. His scientific zeal,
however, cost him a foot, for the member containing
the precious deposite having mortified, its amputation
became indispensable. The male is not very unlike
the common flea. The abdomen of the female,

200 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XI.

however, like that of the queen of the white ants,
the cocci, &c., enlarges to an enormous size when
full of young.

A greater abomination than any of these is the
louse. It is said that on the third day of the disease
called plica Polonica, in which the hair of the head
becomes painful and distended with blood so as to
drain the patient if cut, they appear in myriads.
Leuwenhoek has calculated that a female lays at
least sixty eggs in six days ; that in six days more
the young appear ; that in eighteen days more they
are capable of propagating; so that, according to
his calculation, two families of lice would, in sixty
days, have fifteen thousand descendants.

Since the days of Pharaoh, Herod, Scylla, and
Philip II., these horrid infesters of our race, three
species of which attach themselves as parasites to
man, have given a name to a disease, which, though
extremely rare, is not fictitious — the phthiriasis, or
tnorbus pedicular is.

The mite tribe (acari) is another class of insects,
which sometimes cause the most horrible maladies
to man. They are oviparous, and those which
swarm in rotten cheese will give a correct notion of
the general form of the whole class. Heberden and
Willan, in modern times, have recorded dreadful in-
stances of the sufferings which they have inflicted
upon the human race. They penetrate under the
skin, and multiply in little tumours, which, when
opened, swarm with these creatures. Mouffet states
of the Lady Penruddock, that mites swarmed on
every part of her body ; on the eyes, nose, gums,
head, soles of the feet, putting her to daily and
nightly torture ; so that all the flesh of her body
being consumed, she at length had the happiness to
die!

It has been also asserted that the itch is caused
by the presence of a mite. The insect, says Lin-
naeus, insinuates itself under the skin, and there

CH. XI.] ACARI MITES AND TICKS. 201

produces a little vesicle from whence it never moves.
An experienced eye will readily detect its lurking
place, and an experienced hand as readily remove it
with the point of a pin. If it be placed on the nail
it remains immoveable until warmed by the breath,
when it runs with great agility.

Almost all the vegetable and animal matter used
by man is infested by some species of this insect :
dried meat, old bread, flour, sweetmeats, cheese,
soon swarm with an extremely minute and active
ra^e of mites, any of which, when viewed with the
microscope, appear covered with hair ; and, what is
-curious, each hair is as moveable as the quills of the
porcupine : consequently in an animal invisible to
the naked eye, it is probable that each hair has a
muscle attached to it. These insects multiply both
in winter and summer, and as they arrive at perfec •
tion in a week, it may be imagined what myriads
must be generated. In fact, to these little creatures
is intrusted the task of clearing away much of the
dead matter which would otherwise annoy us. As
they are imperceptible, says Latreille, an infinite
number must enter into the bread we eat, especially
if it be made of old flour.

Our domestic quadrupeds furnish a lodging for
acari. They appear, in the first instance, to be ge-
nerated in the woods, and whenever the dog, the ox,
or even man, comes into contact with them, they
bury their trunk in the skin, and suck the blood with
avidity.

Their body is smooth, and their shape a little oval
sac or cup, — a reservoir for the vital fluid. The
trunk or pump is furnished on each side with a set of
teeth like those of a saw, and it is by means of the
hold these afford that the acarus is enabled to
fix itself so firmly. The mite known to the older
naturalists by the name of reduvius fixes itself to
cattle and sheep, by a similar trunk, the teeth of
which are turned backwards. These, like several of

202 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. xi

their tribe, have a sort of vesicular enlargement on
their feet : this bladder seems to be moved in various
directions, and assumes various shapes ; and as the
animal can fix itself or walk upon the most polished
mirror, it is not improbable that they effect their ob-
ject, after the manner of the fly, by exhausting the air.
The woods of the southern provinces of both the
Americas are infested by a species of acarus, which
proves a terrible pest to man and beast. They who
sit down on the stumps of trees, or heaps of dried
leaves ; they who happen to walk barefoot, are soon
covered with little slow-moving creatures, which,
fixing on the naked skin, suck the live blood, and
become distended to the size of half an inch in length,
and a quarter of an inch in height and breadth. They
swarm in such multitudes on cattle, and inflict such
wounds, that these often perish. At first the sensa-
tion is scarcely perceptible, afterward a pleasant
itching comes on ; which is succeeded by acute pain.
If the part be examined, the insect will be found half
buried in the flesh, and its place marked by a swelJ-
ing of the size of a pea. In endeavouring to ex-
tract this pest, the utmost care must be used ; for it
will sooner be pulled asunder than loose its hold ; and
should this accident happen, the portion of the insect
which is left in the skin will cause a deep and ill-
conditioned sore, accompanied with intolerable itch-
ing, which, it is said, has sometimes rendered it in-
dispensable to amputate the limb. Kalm says he has
seen them fixed to the bellies of horses, in such num-
bers, that the point of a knife could not be insinu-
ated between any two tumours, and the wretched
animals, after being drained and weakened, died in
the greatest tortures. He adds, that, like leeches,
when they have sucked their fill, they will drop off;
having taken two of these, and enclosed them in a
box, he found that they began to lay, and he counted
upwards of a thousand eggs, which each had depo-
sited, and still they had not finished.

CH. XI.] ACARI MITES AND TICKS. 203

Sparrman asserts, that he found several acari, of
the largest dimensions, on three rhinoceroses re-
cently killed ; and that when these were gorged with
blood, they became distended to an enormous size.

Birds are infested with acari : the domestic fowl,
the sparrow, the peacock, are worlds for minuter
creatures, which attack them as parasites, like the
species already mentioned. Some others of this fa-
mily, besides having their extremities terminating in
bladders, capable of being inflated and contracted at
will, are furnished with a crotchet or hook, on the
under part of each bladder. This mechanism ren-
ders it extremely difficult to dislodge them when they
have once settled. Not only man, and the giants of
the creation, whether vegetable or animal, are sub-
jected to the attacks of these tiny depredators, but
insects themselves must furnish nourishment to still
smaller insects ; and even the smallest of those
which are visible to the naked eye, present a wide
range for some puny parasite. The bee, the beetle,
and the dragon-fly may be seen covered by these
creatures. The spider, at all times offensive, be-
comes loathsome when its body is eaten up with
acari. The common fly must yield up its juices to
its parasites, and the gnat which steals a minute drop
from man, provides an ocean of nourishment for the
little hexapodes, which lodge under the ample folds
of its body. The minute plant-lice, which drain the
vegetable world, are themselves drained in their turn.
But there are some species of insects, which are in-
fested by acari whose habits are perfectly unique.
De Geer observed a heap of small acari piled on the
body of a species of beetle (leptura), which prevented
it from walking, and appeared to inflict upon it the
greatest torment. On examining this heap with a
lens, what was hi? astonishment in discovering that
the acari composing it formed a chain of suckers !
The first sucked the leptura, the second sucked the
sucker, and the third drained the second. Each of

204 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XI.

these acari has a sort of tube issuing from its tail,
which is funnel-shaped at both ends. The loose ex-
tremity is applied so firmly to the insect to be sucked,
that it cannot be removed even by the acarus itself
without great exertion.

Of the mites which infest vegetables, our gardens
furnish innumerable examples. The little green-
ish creatures which cover the leaves with a thin
film, and lodge in it in myriads, ruining our fruits
and garden-stuff, are too well known to require de-
scription.

Besides these various species of stationary acari,
which perish when the animal or vegetable on which
they feed perishes, there are others called wanderers,
which are common both to plants and animals. Of
this description is the acarus autumnalis, or harvest-
bug. This is a little red insect, which creates a fu-
rious itching wherever it buries itself.

What the gall-fly does to a plant, the gad-fly
(nestrus) does to our cattle : it deposites its egg under
the skin of the animal, and thus gives rise to what
may be justly termed an animal gall. These tu-
mours are to be found most frequently on young and
well-fed calves ; and far from being" any drawback
in the estimation of the purchaser, cattle-breeders
prefer those animals in which they exist, being well
aware that the instinct of the parent insect causes it
to place its young only where its food is most abun-
dant— that is, under the skin of such of our cattle as
are full of juices and health. The tanners also pre-
fer those skins which abound in bot-holes, oecause

they are the thickest and strongest. As soon as the
worm has quitted the egg, it finds itself in a nest,

CH. XI.] THE GAD-FLY. 205

which affords it shelter, food, and an equal tempera
ture in all seasons.

The egg, having been introduced, gives rise to a
tumour, which gradually enlarges with the growth
of its inhabitant ; during this period, the hole perfo-
rated by the insect to deposite its egg, so far from
closing, becomes wider. The hot, or worm, requires
• a constant supply of fresh air ; and its stigmata, si-
tuated at its posterior extremity, are constantly ap-
plied to the orifice. In this it acts like a skilful sur-
geon, who desires to keep an issue open ; for the ap-
plication of its tail to the orifice keeps up the irrita-
tion and prevents its closing. Not only must there
be an opening for the admission of the air, but, as
the hot subsists on the pus which arises from the in-
terior of the tumour, if there were no outlet for the
excess, its too great accumulation would convert the
nest into an abscess, in which the animal, instead of
being nourished, would be destroyed.

When it has acquired its full growth, its old habi-
tation becomes unfit for its approaching metamor-
phosis ; accordingly, it dilates the orifice of the tu-
mour by using its own body in the same manner as
a surgeon applies a sponge-tent. It thrusts a ring or
two through the hole, and then withdraws them, and
so on, until it crawls out backwards. This opera-
tion, according to Reaumur, is usually completed in
the cool of the morning. The worm, having es-
caped from its den, rolls off the animal on which it
has fed, and falling on the ground, seeks the sheltei
of some fissure, or stone, and there its own skin har
den» into a black cocoon, within which it under-
goes its last change, when it comes out a perfect
insect.

206 NATURAL HISTORV. [CH. XL

Other species of the oestrus infest the intestinal ca-
vity of the horse. The oestrus equi is found in the
stomach ; the parent insect deposites its egg about
the shoulder of the horse, where it can be easily
reached by the tongue ; the irritation causes the ani-
mal to lick the part ; and by this means the bot is
introduced into the only place which affords the vis-
cid nutriment and due heat requisite for its full de-
velopement.

The oestrus hemorrhoidalis chooses the anal extre-
mity of the horse to deposite its egg. According to
Clark, the egg is deposited on the edge, and the larva
creeps through the whole length of the intestines.
Dr. Gaspari saw the perfect insect hover about one
of his horses apparently for the purpose of laying
its egg ; its attempts caused the animal to plunge,
kick, and run, and, in short, excited that furor, which
induced the ancients to give these insects their de-
signation of oestrus. Not being successful, the crea-
ture insinuated itself with less noise under the tail
of another horse which was feeding quietly by itself.
Its attack seemed at first to excite itching, and the
fly profited by the irritation thus produced to effect
a lodgment. Soon after this happened, the horse
ran about, plunged, and then threw himself on the
ground ; and did not recommence feeding until after
the lapse of a quarter of an hour. The worm is pro-
vided with hooks, by means of which it retains its
place. It also, when sufficiently developed, falls off
the horse, and, like the oestrus bovis, undergoes its
metamorphosis on the ground.

A third species of oestrus is found in the nostrils
of sheep, goats, and various other animals. The
egg is lodged in the frontal sinus, in the midst of the
mucus which they contain.

"In Lapland," says Linnaeus, "there is a fly co-
vered with a downy hair, called the rein-deer gad-
fly ; it hovers all day over these animals ; their legs
tremble under them, they prick up their ears and flee

CH. XI.] THE GAD-FLY. 207

to the mountains covered with snow and ice ; with
so much horror do they avoid so minute an insect
hovering in the air. This fly endeavours to lodge
its egg on the back of the deer, which being effected
the worm perforates the skin, remains under it the
whole winter, and in the following year becomes a
fly."

Although Linnaeus has attributed the perforation
of the skin to the larva, it is probable that the same
process which has already been detailed in treating
of the oestrus bovis, is also followed by this species.
But another kind of oestrus lodges near the gullet
of the deer, and there the larvae take up their abode
in families consisting of one hundred or more indi-
viduals. At each side of the root of the tongue
there is, according to Reaumur, a slit, in the pharynx
or gullet of the deer, which leads to two fleshy ca-
vities, which he calls purses. We do not know,
says he, of what use they are to these large animals,
but they are essential to the worms which are deve-
loped within them. If they are not made for these,
if they are useful to the deer, at all events, He who
constructed the cavities, and formed the insects,
knew that they were necessary to the existence of
these worms, and so taught them to lodge in their
destined repositories ; for all that is essential to their
nourishment and growth is contained within these,
and is not to be found elsewhere. The question is
how the perfect insect contrives to deposite its young
in a spot which none but an anatomist can detect,
and to reach which requires the boldness and dex-
terity of a creature which is regardless of its own
life. If we consider that nature has endowed the
deer with the power of ejecting any substance an-
noying the nostrils, by sneezing — the power of en-
veloping any thing irritating the palate in a viscid
saliva, or crushing it by means of grinder teeth, we
must gfive due credit to a fly, which, in spite of these
obstacles, manages to reach the cavities in question.

208 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XII.

If, however, *ve recollect the boldness with which
the oestrus of the horse enters the intestine of that
animal, we shall not be astonished to find that a fly,
as full of care and foresight for its young, should,
with equal courage, enter the nostril of the deer.
According to Reaumur, the creature boldly walks
into the cavities, and proceeding to the extremity,
comes at once on the fleshy purses at the root of the
tongue : in these the female fly deposites her eggs,
and leaves them in a matrix furnished with a supply
for every want.

Humboldt, Bonpland, and Gmelin have discovered
a species of gad-fly which attacks min. It is a na-
tive of South America, and is about the size of a
common house-fly. It deposites its egg under the
skin of the abdomen, where it forms a swelling of
the nature of that on oxen, and other animals, in
which the grub remains for six entire months. If
molested, it sinks deeper and deeper, and, creating
ulcers or inflammation, often causes death.

CHAPTER XII.

Ichneumon-fly— Deposites its Eggs in the Bodies of other living In
sects — Thirty or Forty in the Body of a Caterpillar — Dragon-fly — Its
Voracity — Ferocity.

To the numerous tribes of Ichneumons is allotted
by nature the task of restraining the superabundance
of the rest of the insect world. They were called
by the more ancient authors Muscce tripiles, on ac-
count of their abdomen being terminated by an ovi-
positor, composed of three hair-like pieces, or Muscce
vibratorice, from their habit of constantly vibrating
their antennae or feelers.

The most interesting portion of their history is
the mode in which they are propagated. Other in •

-

CH. XII.] THE ICHNEUMON-FLY. 20i

sects either nourish their young themselves, or place
them in the midst of an element which contains the
food which they require ; but these present the ano-
maly of cradling their offspring in the living bodies
of other insects.

They vary in size, from the minutest to the largest "
among insects. They deposite their eggs some-
times on the outside, but mostly on the inside of the
insect which they attack ; and it is only to the three
first insect forms of egg, larva, and pupa that they
choose to commit their offspring. By means of their
Irng ovipositor they pierce the cell of the gall-fly, or
the nest of the solitary and the social humble bee ; in
short, when pressed to lay their eggs, nothing can
escape them. Neither the vigilance of the parent
nor the solidity of the habitation can defend the
young of other insects from their attacks. These
grow up just so long as is requisite to supply the
young ichneumon which is feeding on their vitals ;
and when it is ready to emerge, they die.

Those which are obliged to pierce the nests of in
sects, in order to deposite their eggs, are provided
with a long ovipositor ; those which simply pierce
the insect itself have only short ones.

Fig. 1. The ichneumon fly, with its ovipositor.

2. The ovipositor, seen to consist of thiee pieces.

3. The centre piece or tube through M hich the egg is trans-

mitted. It is serrated at the end, and the two lines which
run from it ought to have represented a string of mucus.,
•which is lodged with the egg, wherever the latter is de»
posited.

S2

210 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XII.

The preceding (fig- 1) is a figure of an ichneumon
of the first kind. The long tail consists of three
hairs, as in the second figure ; the two lateral enclose
the middle one as in a sheath; the central fillet is
round throughout the greater part of its length, but
at the end pointed like a pen, flattened and serrated
as in the third figure.

The following figure represents the short oviposi-
tors of those ichneumons which pierce the insect
only. It lies concealed in a groove under the ab-
domen.

Reaumur gives the following account of the ope-
rations of the ichneumon (Cotnitator, F.) while
piercing the cell of that species of solitary wasp
which feeds its young with green caterpillars. He
had covered a wall with sandy mortar for the pur-
pose of enticing these wasps to make their nests
under his eye ; they did so in great numbers.

" I saw," says he, " this ichneumon at the very
moment it settled on the spot under which so many
little animals were hidden. Its long tail, which it
dragged after it, appeared to form but one thread,
though in reality it was composed of three. It soon,
however, put it to use : it showed me that it was not
only capable of raising or depressing it, but also that
it could bend it in various directions, and that in dif-
ferent portions of its length." It bent its tail, and
carried it under its body, so as to protrr.de it consi-
derably beyond its own head ; and it directed it to
the spot which its instinct pointed out as the place in
which the young wasp was concealed.

" Although," continues Reaumur, " the creature
did not seem disturbed by my observations, still I
could not see whether the serrated point protruded

CH. XII. J THE ICHNEUMON-FLY. 211

beyond the case which contained it : this, however,
I did see — that it gave the whole apparatus move-
ments well adapted to make way even in this mor-
tar. It turned it half round from right to left, and
then back from left to right. I looked on for a full
quarter of an hour before the ichneumon had suc-
ceeded."

The following figures will perhaps serve to give a
clearer insight into the manoeuvres of this insect,
while driving its ovipositor deeper and deeper.

123

The cuts represent an ichneumon fly settled on a wall, in which it

has discovered the nest of the mason- wasp.
In the 1st figure, the ovipositor, or instrument with which the insect

pierces the cells of the wasp, is seen to be directed under the belly

of the ichneumon.
In the 2d figure, the insect's head being too near the point of the wall

which is to be pierced, the long ovipositor is obliged to be thrown

back into a curve ; and, being thus shortened, it is seen to pass

under the belly of the ichneumon.
In the 3d figure, the ovipositor, being still too long, is curved behind

the insect. It is then passed under its belly, and is seen like a

thread supported by the right fore-leg of the ichneumon. In order

to prevent this instrument from bending, while the insect immerses

it into the mortar, it is obliged to support it with the end of its leg.

The other two hair-like lines are intended to represent the ameimo

of the insect
The three figures convey a good notion of the great flexibility of the

ovipositor, and the facility with which the insect can use it under

any circumstances.

The manoeuvres of those ichneumons which at-
tack the insect itself are as curious. The body of
the caterpillar is the matrix destined to receive the
eggs of this species. The little fly may be seep

212

NATURAL HISTORY.

[CH Xli.

pouncing upon a caterpillar, walking- over its body,
stopping at certain parts, and wounding it with the
little sabre-like ovipositor. It is in vain the cater-
pillar turns and twists itself about ; the ichneumon
is not at all discomposed, but reiterates the wounds
in thirty or forty different places, and in each depo-
ites an egg. These are placed deep enough to
allow the caterpillar to change its skin without get-
ting rid of the parasitical young of its enemy. Aftei
a time, the caterpillar is covered with little inequali-
ties, which grow higher and higher, so that it pre-

sents a hideous figure. Its body is studded with the
larvae of the ichneumon, protruding themselves per-
pendicularly as soon as they emerge ; the pain occa-
sioned by thirty or forty larvae thus boring into its
carcass at one time soon causes the caterpillar to
die in a sort of convulsion. The larvae set about
spinning their cocoons round the carcass, and after-
ward undergo their allotted changes.

These are gregarious; and when the caterpillar
is opened, may be found equally developed and regu-
larly arranged in its interior. The miracle is, that
the caterpillar, thus perforated, should not die : were

CH. XII.] THE DRAGON-FLY. 213

this to take place, nature would be defeated. These
little worms never attack a vital organ ; they con-
sume only the fat that surrounds the alimentary
canal. The caterpillar goes on feeding as usual,
and thus continues the supply necessary for the full
growth of the larvae of the ichneumon till such time
as these are fit to emerge. The instinct of those
ichneumons which deposite only one egg in one in-
sect is still more extraordinary. If another perches
on one which has already had an egg confided to it,
by some sense it discovers the fact that it has been
anticipated, and flies off, as if aware that there is
just food enough for one larva, and that if two were
deposited, both would starve.

Another and a most destructive enemy of the
living insect is the tribe of libellula, or dragon-fly, a
name which they well merit from their voracious
habits.

The French have chosen to call them "demoi-
selles," from the slim elegance and graceful ease
of their figure and movements. But, although their
biilliant colouring, the beauty of their transparent
and wide-spread wings, may give them some claim
to this denomination, yet they scarcely would have
received it had their murderous instincts been ob-
served. So far from seeking an innocent nurture in
the juice of fruits or flowers, they are (says Reau-
mur) warriors more ferocious than the Amazons.
They hover in the air only to pounce upon other in-
sects, which they crush with their formidable fangs ;
and if they quit the banks of the rivulet, where they
may be seen in numbers during an evening walk, it
is only to pursue and seize the butterfly or moth,
which seeks the shelter of the hedge.

The waters are their birth-place ; their eggs are
protruded into this element at once, in a mass which
resembles a cluster of grapes. The larva which
comes out of these eggs is six-footed. The only
difference between the larva and nymph is, that the

£14 NATURAL H 3TORY. [cH. XII.

latter has the rudiments of wings packed up in small
cases on each side of the insect.

In this latter state it is supposed that the creature
lives at the bottom of the water for a year. It is
equally voracious then as in its perfect state. Its
body is covered by bits of leaf, wood, and other
foreign matters, so as to afford it a complete disguise,
while its visage is concealed by a prominent mask,
which hides the tremendous apparatus of serrated
teeth, and serves as a pincer to hold the prey while
it is devoured.

Its mode of locomotion is equally curious; for
though it can move in any direction, it is not by
means of feet or any direct apparatus that it moves,
but by a curious mechanism, which has been well
illustrated by Reaumur and Cuvier. If one of these
nymphs be narrowly observed in water, little pieces
of wood and other floating matters will be seen to
be drawn towards the posterior extremity of the
insect, and then repelled ; at the same time that
portion of its body will be observed alternately to
open and shut. If one of them be placed in wat3r
which has been rendered turbid by milk, or coloured
with indigo, and then suddenly removed into a more
limpid fluid, a jet of the coloured water will be seen

CH. XII.] THE DRAGON-FLY. 215

to issue from the anal extremity of the libellula, to
the extent sometimes of several inches ; at the same
time the force with which the column is ejected
propels the insect in the opposite direction, by vir-
tue of the resistance with which it meets. Hence
it appears that it is by means of its respiratory sys-
tem that the creature walks — a strange and anoma-
lous combination of functions in one organ.

If the insect be taken out of the water, held with
its head downwards, and a few drops of that fluid
poured on its tail, that which was a mere point will
immediately open and display a cavity ; at the same

time the body of the insect, which was before flat,
will be observed to be enlarged and inflated, and if
held up to the light, semi-transparent: moreover,
something solid will appear to be displaced by the
water, and driven towards the head. This solid
mass will shortly descend, obscure the transparency
of the lower portion of the body of the insect, lessen
its diameter, and, when it does so, a jet of water
will issue from the vent. It is clear, then, that the
abdomen of the libellula is a syringe, the piston of
which being drawn up, of course the pressure of the
fluid fills up the vacuum, and, when pushed down,
expels the water. To ascertain the fact, Reaumur
held the insect in his hand, and when he saw its
body inflated, cut it immediately with a pair of scis-
sors, and found it unoccupied with solids. He
watched when the jet of water was expelled in an
other, and as soon as the body was darkened ana
lessoned in diameter, he clipped it., and found the cut
portion occupied by solids. There is no doubt, then.

216

NATURAL HISTORV.

[CH. XII

that the abdomen contains a moveable piston, and
this piston is composed of the air tubes. There are
four of these longitudinal trunks, although two only

are represented, they terminate in innumerable
smaller ones, and, according to Reaumur, perform
the functions of respiration, as well as locomotion,
in. the ways detailed.

After the voracious creature has lain in ambus-
cade, devouring the larvae of the gnat and other
aquatic insects, till its appointed hour of change, it
leaves its natal element for the shore, to undergo its
last metamorphosis: for this purpose it usually
fastens itself to some friendly plant, and begins the
important process which is to convert an aquatic ani-
mal into an inhabitant of the air.

Any person who should at this period choose to
seize a number of them, and, taking them into his
chamber, fix them to a bit of tapestry, would be re-
warded for his trouble by witnessing the conversion
Of an aquatic into an aerial insect.

It may easily be seen by the eyes of the nymph
whether it is about to change its form; for, instead

CH. XII.] THE DRAGON-FLY. 217

of remaining tarnished and opaque, they suddenly
become transparent and brilliant. This change is
owing to the visual organ of the perfect insect, which
is amazingly lustrous, shining through the mask of
the nymph. If the eye of the nymph be removed,
that of the perfect insect may be seen beneath. As
soon as the nymph has fixed itself to any object by
means of its claws, the first sign of the commencing
metamorphosis is a rent in the upper skin, extend-
ing along the corslet to the head. When it ap-
proaches this latter part, another rent, perpendicular
to the first, runs across the face from eye to eye.

I.--T

218 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XII.

These rents are brought about by a power which
the insect possesses of inflating its body and head.
This last organ, ultimately destined to become fixed
and solid, is at this period capable of contraction
and dilatation, like a membrane.

The head and corslet being exposed, the legs are
drawn out from their nymphine cases. At this period
every part of the insect is soft. The four figures in
the preceding page illustrate its mode of exit.

In the first (Jig. 1), it is partially out; in the se-
cond (fig'. 2), after having protruded itself thus far,
it hangs with its head downwards, and remains mo*
tionless, so as to lead the observer to believe that
the efforts which it had hitherto made had exhausted
its strength, and that it had thus perished in the act
of being born. However, it remains in this position
just so long as to permit its body and limbs to be
hardened and dried by the air, and then it reverses
it to that of fig. 3, forming anarch ; this enables the
insect to draw out its tail from the mask.

When it has just cast off that tenement in which
it had till now existed, the body of the libellula is
soft, has not attained its full length, and the wings
are still folded. It remains, therefore, tranquil and
motionless till these important operations have taken
place, which are finished sooner or later, according
to the heat or moisture of the atmosphere. The
operation may be completed in a quarter of an hour,
or take up several hours, according to circumstances.
The wings unfold themselves in every direction ; —
it is supposed that this curious mechanical effect is
brought about by means of the fluids, which rush
into and distend them ; for they remain drooping as
wet paper if the insect die in the act of metamor-
phosis ; so that something more than drying is ne-
cessary. During the time that the wings, from
being shrivelled and flexible, are becoming firm and
glistening as talc, the dragon-fly takes care not to
allow even its own body to obstruct their expansion

CH. XIII. J THE ANT-LION.

in the proper direction, and for this purpose bends it
from them, as in fig. 4 ; for if they took a wrong
fold at this moment, they would for ever retain the
deformity. Provision is even made to prevent the
wings from coming in contact with each other ; for,
instead of being all in the same horizontal plane, as
they subsequently are, they are perpendicular to the
insect, and thus ranged side by side.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE ANT-LION.

OF all the creatures which secure their prey by
stratagem, there is perhaps none more singular in
its manners and habits than the ant-lion (tormica-
leo). It is an inhabitant of the south of Europe.
When full grown, its length is about half an inch :
and in form it in some degree resembles a wood-
louse ; it has six legs, and the mouth is furnished
with a forceps, consisting of two jaws curving in-
wardly, which give it a very formidable appearance.

220 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIII.

But looking at its form alone, a person imperfectly
acquainted with its habits and economy would be
apt to set it down as the most helpless of all created
animals. Its food consists solely of the juices of
other insects, particularly ants ; but at first view it
appears impossible that it should ever secure a sin-
gle meal ; for its powers of locomotion are so feeble,
that it can walk only at a very slow pace, and that
backwards; he never follows his prey, and would
sooner perish with hunger than advance one step
towards it. Thus accomplished for the pursuit, it
stands but a poor chance of being able to hunt down
an active ant ; nor would his prospects be mended
by standing still ; its grim and forbidding aspect is
such as to deter every vagrant insect from venturing
within its reach. In the choice of its food the insect
shows itself a finished epicure ; however pressed by
the calls of appetite, it will taste no carcass except
what it has itself killed : and of this it only extracts
the finer juices. Thus delicate in its appetite, and
thus apparently incapable of securing a supply of
food, what is to become of the poor ant-lion ? How
does an insect, thus to all appearance unfitted by its
natural habits to provide a supply even of the coarsest
food, contrive to secure a succession of delicacies 1
It accomplishes, by the refinement of art and stra-
tagem, what would utterly baffle all its open exer-
tions— it excavates a conical pit ; and, concealing
itself at the bottom, calmly lies in wait for any un-
lucky insect which may chance to stumble over the
margin and fall into its den.

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 circum-
stances 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

CH. XIII.] THE ANT-LION. 221

traces in the sand a circular furrow which is to de-
termine the extent of its future abode. The outline
of the hollow which it intends to excavate being1
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 plough-
share, under the sand ; and using one of its fore-
legs as a shovel, it deposites 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 cir-
cle. 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 opera-
tions. 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 its outward leg nor dis-
turbs 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 pro-
cess, one leg continued to be exclusively used, the
limb would get tired. To obviate this inconveni-
ence, 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 previ-
ously at rest. It frequently happens that small
Btones impede the progress of its labours; these.
T2

222 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIII.

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 en-
counters 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 sub-
stance : 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 con-
trives 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 deposites its burden on
the outside. When the stone to be removed hap-
pens to be round, the insect's task becomes more ar-
duous and difficult : in this emergency, the proceed-
ings 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 re-
trograde 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 ele-
vates 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 despair-
ing, the unwearied ant-lion returns to the charge ;
again places the stone on its back, and again as-
cends 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

L'H. XIII.] THE AXT-LIOX. 223

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.

Desirous to witness the ingenuity and try the
perseverance of one of these creatures, M. Bonnet
threw a good-sized pebble into the den; its removal
seemed to be quite essential, for the ant-lion left its
work to effect it. To toss it out was beyond its
power ; it therefore determined to carry it up the
declivity. For this purpose it insinuated its tail
under the offending impediment, and by moving the
rings of its body, hoisted it gradually on its back;
thus loaded, it set off with its burden, walking
backwards up the sloping side of the hole. Of
course every step made the stone shake and over-
balance ; but it was righted in a trice by a due ad-
justment of the body of the insect, or a proper
movement of the rings which compose it. Five or
six times successively, the stone fell off in spite of
all the skill and patience of the creature, and five
or six times, Sysiphus-like, it renewed its efforts.
In some instances, success attended his patient la-
bours ; in others, its efforts proved unavailing ; but
rather than submit to the inconvenience of a pebble
which could offer the means of escape to its prey,
the insect chose to quit the den and begin a new
one. Another, however, acting with more sagacity
simply drove the stone into the sandy walls of the
den, and thus effectually abated the nuisance with
little trouble.

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

NATURAL HISTORY. [CH' xm-

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
of sand, except the points of its expanded forceps,
which stick out above the surface. It seldom hap-
pens 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 treacher-
ous 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 suc-
ceeds 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 manoeuvre. 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.

Very few species of insects, not excepting its own,
come amiss to this voracious creature. Reaumur
cut the wings of a bee, and threw it thus irritated
into the den of an ant-lion. The creature, seizing
the bee by the back, and holding it suspended in the
air, disabled it from using its sting. It made, how-
ever, a terrible struggle, but on every motion the
ant-lion dashed it forcibly against the sand. Thus
beaten and wounded, the bee yielded up the contest
with its life, and was sucked at leisure by its enemy.
When its prey has been drained dry, it casts the

CH. XIII.] THE ANT-LION. 225

skin with a jerk far from its cave, lest the relics
should embarrass it in its future contests, or deprive
it of future visits, by bringing its place of residence
into bad repute. Any damage which the den may
have sustained during these struggles is carefully
repaired ; when the ant-lion resumes its station at
the bottom? and patiently awaits the approach of
more prey.

The ant-lion will not take a dead insect, however
recently killed. Reaumur tempted it with fine, fat
blue-bottles, but these it would not touch. Those
insects, too, whose instincts teach them to simulate
death when danger is near, escape the fangs of the
ant-lion.

If it has long missed its necessary supply of
game, it concludes its place of ambuscade to have
been badly selected, and moves to another spot ; or,
if the hole has been so long occupied that the fre-
quent crumbling of the sides has rendered the de-
scent too easy, it is forsaken. Its progress on these
occasions may be seen in the following figure.

To this species of life the ant-lion is destined for
about two years ; after this period it passes from its
state of larva into that of nymph. It then buries
itself entirely in the sand. With a kind of viscid
substance, which appears to exude from the pores
of its skin, it glues together a crust which encom-
passes its whole body ; this covering is round, and
about half an inch in diameter, which affords the

226 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIII.

insect sufficient space for motion : but it is not con-
tent with the shelter of a bare wall, which would
inevitably chill it ; it therefore spins out of its own
bowels a thread, which in fineness infinitely sur-
passes that of the silk-worm. This thread it fastens
first to one place, and then extends it to a second,
crossing and interlacing it : by this means it hangs
all its apartment with a satin tinged with the colour
of pearls, and exquisite both in beauty and delicacy.
In this work all the propriety and convenience is
confined to the inside, for nothing appears without
but a little sand, which confounds and incorporates
the mansion with the contiguous earth. Here, in a
state of oblivion and tranquillity, it remains secluded
from the world for the space of about two months,
when it divests itself of its eyes, horns, paws, and
skin : its spoils sink to the bottom of the ball like a
heap of rags: all that now remains is a nymph,
which has other eyes and paws ; other entrails and
wings, enveloped in a second skin, and a nutritious
liquor which gradually strengthens the new animal.
When its new limbs have acquired their necessary
tone and activity, it tears away the tapestry of its
apartment and pierces through the walls ; for which
purpose it employs a couple of teeth like those with
which the grasshopper is furnished. Its efforts to
escape become now more strenuous; the opening
gradually enlarges ; half the body is first thrust out,
and at last the whole emerges. Its long body, which
at this moment winds like the volute of an Ionic ca-
pital, and fills only a space of about a quarter of an
inch, begins to unfold and expand itself, and in an
instant stretches to the length of an inch and a quar-
ter. Its four wings, which were contracted in little
folds, and whose dimensions did not exceed the sixth
part of an inch in the film that sheathed them, begin
to expand, and in the space of two minutes shoot
into a greater length than the whole body. In a
word the ravenous and malignant ant-lion assumes

CH. XIII. J THE LION-WORM. 227

the form of a large and beautiful fly, very closely
resembling1 the dragon-fly, which, after it has for
some time continued immoveable and apparently
astonished at the prospect of nature, flutters its
wings and enjoys a liberty unknown to it in its
former obscure condition. And as it has cast off
the spoils and cumbersome weight of its first form,
so is it likewise divested of its barbarity and per-
nicious inclinations ; it comes forth an entirely new
creature, full of gayety, alacrity, and vigour, and
graced with a noble and majestic air. It then pro-
ceeds to deposite an egg in some sandy spot ; from
this egg an ant-lion emerges, which in its turn be-
comes changed into a fly.

The lion- worm (Leptis) is a curious and voracious
little creature, having a tapering form; the head
being more pointed than the tail. Its instincts are
very similar to those of the ant-lion ; for, like that
formidable insect, it makes a species of cavity in
the loose earth, and there waits in ambuscade for its
prey. A portion of its body lies concealed under
the sand — the rest stretches across the bottom of the
den, and appears so stiff and motionless, that, at first
sight, it might be taken for a bit of straw, half an
inch in length. If, however, any insect, in search
of food, should happen to walk into the cave of the
lion-worm, the little morsel of stubble in an instant
becomes all animation — falls like a serpent on its
prey, and winding its body in coils around its victim.

228 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIV.

compresses it to death, and sucks out the juices by
means of a couple of hooks fixed to its head. When
a strong insect happens to be thus captured, it might
fly away with the lion-worm if nature had not fur-
nished the latter with means of fixing itself suitable
to the emergency. It bends a part of its body into
the shape of a hook ; this is then thrust under the
sand, and serves as an anchor to hold the insect,
while the upper part of the body remains at liberty
to master and devour the prey. If the prey, eluding
its serpent-like grasp, should begin to make its way
up the sides of the den, the cunning hunter resorts
to the very same expedient as the ant-lion ; by means
of its head, it sends forth a shower of sand with
such marvellous agility and precision of aim, that it
rarely fails to bring the battered game once more
within the reach of its formidable pincers.

The leptis ultimately turns into a sort of fly, with
a long and thin body.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SPIDER.

Its Spinning- Apparatus— The Web—The Hawk- Spider— The Garden
Spider — The Water-Spider — The Hunt ing- Spider — Gossamer-Spider
— Fen-Spider — Attachment of the Spider to its Young.

AMONG the insect tribes, few seem to be more
generally regarded with horror and disgust than
the whole family of spiders, and such wingless
insects as resemble them. Notwithstanding this,
there are savages who eat them : Sparrman says,
that the Bashie men consider them as dainties ; and
Labillardiere asserts, that the inhabitants of New-
Caledonia seek for and devour large quantities of a

tH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 229

spider nearly an inch long-, which they roast over a
fire. Reaumur relates, on the authority of M. de
la Hire, that a young French lady could never resist
the temptation of eating a spider, whenever she met
with one in her walks. They are said to taste li&e
nuts, at least this was the opinion of the celebrated
Maria Schurrman, who not only ate them, but justi-
fied her taste by saying, that she was born under
Scorpio. Latreille informs us, that the astronomer
Lalaiide was equally fond of this offensive morsel.
Man is truly an omnivorous animal; for there is
nothing which is disgusting to one nation, that is
not the choice food of another. Flesh, fish, fowl,
insects, even the gigantic centipedes- of Brazil,
many of them a foot and a half long, and half an
inch broad, were seen by Humboldt to3 be dragged
out of their holes, and crunched alive by the chil-
dren. Serpents of all sorts have been consumer! as
food; and the host of the celebrated inn at Terra-
cina frequently accosts his guests, by politely re-
questing to know, whether they prefer the " eel of
the hedge or the eel of the ditch." To evince their
attachment to their favourite pursuit, most natural-
ists seem to consider it indispensable to taste and
recommend some insect or other. Darwin assures
us, that the caterpillar of the hawk-moth is delicious ;
Kirby and Spence think the ant good eating, and
push their entomological zeal so far as to distinguish
between the flavour of the abdomen and the thorax ;
and Reaumur recommends the caterpillar of the
plusia gamma as a delicate dish.

And if the evidence of a poet may be taken in this
matter, the fairies are as fond of these dainties as
the most enthusiastic entomologists: as will appear
from the following quaint and fanciful quotation :—

"A little mushroom table spread,
After short prayers they set on bread,
A moon-parched grain of purest wheat,
With some small glittering grit, to eat

230 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIV.

His choicest bits with ; then in a trice

They make a feast less great than nice,

But all this while his eye is served,

We must not think his ear was starved :

But that there was in place to stir

His spleen the chirring grasshopper,

The merry cricket, puling fly,

The piping gnat, for minstrelsy.

And now we must imagine first

The elves present to quench his thirst

A pure seed pearl of infant dew,

Brought and besweetened in a blue

And pregnant violet. Then forthwith

He ventures boldly on the pith

Of sugared rush, and eats the sag

And well bestrutted bee's sweet bag.

Gladding his palate with a store

Of emmets' eggs — what could he more ?

But beards of mice, a newt's stew'd thigh,

A bloated earwig and a fly :

With the red-capped worm that 's shut

Within the concave of a nut,

Brown as his tooth ; a little moth,

Late fattened in a piece of cloth ;

The unctuous dewlaps of a snail ;

The broke heart of a nightingale

O'ercome in music."*

Spiders have oeen divided into various classes,
and although they have something in common, yet
each has likewise something which distinguishes it
from the rest. The above wood-cut represents the

* Hcrrick's Hesperides.

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 231

monstrous bird-spider (mygale avicularia) of South
America ; it is at least two inches long, and reputed
(although on authority which has been denied) to
hunt for and devour birds. In general outline and
shape they all present a strong family likeness.
The body is divided into two parts : the fore-part,
containing the head and breast, is separated from
the hind-part by a ligature, or very slender thread.
The lore-part, together with the feet, which are in-
serted into the breast, is covered with very strong
scales. The hind-part is clothed in a very fine and
supple skin, which is covered with hair. In different
parts of the head, they have several fine eyes — gene-
rally eight, and sometimes no more than six ; two
in the fore-part, two in the hind-part, and the rest
in the sides. They are all without eyelids, and are
covered with a hard, polished, and transparent crust.
As these eyes are immoveable, they have been mul-
tiplied, to convey to them, on all sides, intimations
of whatever it concerns them to know. The fore-
part of the head is furnished with two stings, or
rather branches, shagged or indented with strong
points like a couple of saws, and ending in a nail
formed like the claw of a cat. Near the point of
the nail is a small aperture through which their
poison is ejected. These arms or branches are ex-
tremely formidable to their enemies : they open and
extend at pleasure. When no longer wanted for
use, the nails are each of them bent down upon its
branch, like a pruning-knife clasped upon its handle.
They are all likewise furnished with eight legs, like
those of a crab ; and at the extremity of each are
fixed three crooked and moveable claws : that is to
say, a small one placed in the side, like a spur, by
the assistance of which they fasten themselves to
their thread — and two others of a larger size. The
internal curve of these is indented, and they enable
the insects to fix themselves wherever they please,
and to slide either obliquely or downwards, by
grasping whatever comes in their way.

232 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIV.

But, besides these eight legs, spiders have two
others inserted in the fore-part of their body, and
which may be called their arms, since they do not
use them for transferring themselves from one place
to another, but only for holding and turning their
prey. But although thus formidably equipped with
weapons of attack, the spider would still be unsuc-
cessful in providing for its wants, if not furnished
with the means of constructing an ambuscade to
surprise its victim. The spider has no wings to
assist in the pursuit, while its prey is furnished with
those organs as the means of escape. This would
prove a fatal disadvantage, if the insect had not been
furnished with a stock of material, which it can
spin into a thread, and employ in constructing a web
or snare, which it spreads in the open air to inter-
cept the prey which is continually passing. Instinct
informs the spider when the proper season has ar-
rived for weaving this snare: which is invariably
begun when its prey first receives its birth. When
the web has been completed, the insect retires into
obscurity behind its net, where it patiently awaits
for a victim, to which it has rendered itself invisible.

The manner of constructing this web is extremely
artful and ingenious. All spiders are furnished, at
the extremity of their belly, with four or six teat-
like protuberances or spinners. Each of these pro-
tuberances is furnished with a multitude of tubes, so
numerous and so exquisitely fine, that, according to
Reaumur, a space not much bigger than the pointed
end of a pin is furnished with a thousand of them.
Hence, from each spinner proceeds a compound
thread. At the distance of about one-tenth of an
inch from the point of the spinners these threads
again unite, and form the thread which we see, and
which the spider makes use of in forming its web.
Thus, a spider's thread, even when so fine as almost
to elude our senses, is not a single line, but a rope
composed of at least four thousand strands. Of

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 23

such tenuity, although placed beyond all doubt by
Leuwenhoek's microscopical observations, our ima-
gination is too faint to form even a conception : our
faculties are overwhelmed by a consciousness of
the imperfection of our senses, when used for the
purpose of scrutinizing the works of nature. An
experiment may be easily made with one of our
large field-spiders, which will convince the observer
that this calculation, although very wonderful, is
still accurate. If the abdomen of one of these
spiders be pressed against a leaf, the same prelimi-
nary step which the spider adopts in spinning, and
drawn gradually to a small distance, it will be in-
stantly perceived that the proper thread of the in-
sect is formed of four smaller threads, and these
again of threads so fine and numerous, that the num-
ber issuing from each spinner cannot be estimated
under a thousand. The Author of nature has also
conferred upon the spider the power of closing the
orifices of the spinners at its pleasure. This ena-
bles the insect, when dropping from a height by its
line, to arrest its descent at any point of its down-
ward progress, and remain suspended in mid-air.

The situations which spiders select for the con-
struction of their nets are extremely various. Some
prefer the open air, and place them in a horizontal,
a vertical, or oblique direction, among shrubs or
plants much resorted to by flies and other small in-
sects ; others spread their toils in the corners of
windows and rooms where prey always abounds ;
while many construct their nets in stables and de-
serted dwellings, which, at first sight, hold out no
great promise of plunder. ^

When a house-spider intends to begin a web, it
selects some recess, as the corner of a chamber or
piece of furniture, into which it may retreat under its
web, and secure to itself, either upwards or down-
wards, a passage to escape from any danger with
which it may be threatened. It then presses its
U2

234 NATURAL HISTORY. [pH. XIV.

spinners against one of the sides, and glues to it
one end of the thread. The insect proceeds from
one side, as far as the place to which it intends to
extend its web, while the thread lengthens in the rear.
The thread is fastened to one of the spurs or claws
with which the spider's feet are furnished, lest it
should come in contact with the wall while it is in-
tended that it should traverse the air. When the
insect has reached the point on the opposite side to
which it purposes to continue the web, it there
fastens this first thread by means of glue; it then
pulls the thread, and renders it tight. Close by this
thread another is fixed, which the insect carries for-
ward by tunning along the first, like a tumbler on
his rope. The second thread is glued on one side
of the point where the work was begun. The first
two threads are used like a scaffold to assist in build-
ing all the rest. All the threads are stretched and
fastened, one after another, writh equal- art and in-
dustry, and the whole is executed with wonderful
expedition.

Those threads Which are destined to form the
outer margin or selvage of the web require addi-
tional strength; and for this purpose they are tripled
or quadrupled by a repetition of the operation just
described. From these marginal threads others are
spun in various directions ; the interstices are filled
up by threads spun by the spider as it runs from one
to the other, until the whole, when finished, assumes
the gauze-like texture which excites our admiration.

These webs present merely a horizontal surface ;
but to those which are formed in out-houses or among
bushes in Jjjie open air, a very ingenious appendage
is added. . From the edges and surface of the main
web the spider carries up a number of single threads,
often to the height of many feet, meeting and cross-
ing each other in various places. In their arrange-
ment, these lines are not unlike the tackling of a
ship ; and in their flight across them, the flies become

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 235

inevitably entangled. Their efforts to get away
rarely fail to precipitate them into the net spread
below for their reception ; and whenever this takes
place, their doom is fixed.

But the ambuscade is still incomplete. The spider
seems to be well aware that its grim visage, if not
concealed, would scare away the game for which it
lies in wait. It therefore constructs a small silken
apartment under the net, where it takes its station,
unseen and unsuspected. " In this corner," says
Philemon Holland, in his quaint translation of Pliny,
" with what subtiltie doth she retire, making sem-
blance as though she meant nothing less than that
she doth, and as if she went about some other busi-
ness ! Nay, how close lieth she, that it is impossi-
ble to see whether any one be within or no !" But
how does the spider, thus removed from the sight
of its toils, discover when its prey has been en-
trapped ? For this purpose, the following ingenious
contrivance is adopted : it spins and draws several
threads from the edge of the net to that of the hole
in which it conceals itself. When a fly falls into
the net, these threads by their vibrations give the
spider intimation of the event : they also serve as a
bridge over which it instantly passes to secure the
captured prey.

Goldsmith has given so lively an account of some
of the habits of the house-spider, that it deserves to
be transcribed.

" 1 perceived, about four years ago, a large spider
in one corner of my room making its web; and,
though the maid frequently levelled her fatal broom
against the labours of the little animal, I had the
good fortune then to prevent its destruction ; and, I
may say, it more than paid me by the entertain-
ment it afforded.

" In three days the web was with incredible dili-
gence completed : nor could I avoid thinking that the
insect exulted in its new abode. It frequently tra-

236 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIV.

versed it round, examined the strength of every part of
it, retired into its hole, and came out very frequently.
The first enemy, however, it had to encounter was
another and a much larger spider, which, having no
web of its own, and having probably exhausted all
its stock in former labours of this kind, came to in-
vade the property of its neighbour. Soon then a
terrible encounter ensued, in which the invader
seemed to have the victory, and the laborious spider
was obliged to take refuge in its hole. Upon this I
perceived the victor using every art to draw the enemy
from its strong-hold. He seemed to go off, but
quickly returned ; but when he found all arts vain, he
began to demolish the new web without mercy.
This brought on another battle ; and contrary to my
expectations, the laborious spider became conqueror,
and fairly killed its antagonist.

" Now then in peaceable possession of what justly
was its own, it waited three days repairing the
breaches of its web, and taking, as I could perceive,
no sustenance. At last a large bluebottle fell into
the snare, and struggled hard to get loose. The
spider gave it leave to entangle itself as much as
possible, but it seemed to be too strong for its cob-
web. It sallied out, and stopped the motion of the
fly's wings by quickly weaving around them a web ;
and, thus hampered, it seized and dragged it into its
hole.

" I once put a wasp into the net ; but when the
spider came out to seize it, as usual, upon perceiving
what kind of an enemy it had to deal with, it in-
stantly broke all the bands that held it fast, and con-
tributed all that lay in its power to disengage so
formidable an antagonist. When the wasp was at
liberty, I expected that the spider would set about
repairing the breaches which were made in its net ;
but these it seems were irreparable, wherefore the
web was now entirely forsaken, and a new one be-
gun, which was completed in the usual time.

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 237

" I had now a mind to try how many cobwebs a
single spider could furnish, wherefore I destroyed
this, and the insect set about another. When I de-
stroyed the other also, its whole stock seemed en-
tirely exhausted, and it could spin no more. The
arts it made use of to support itself, now deprived
of its great means of subsistence, were indeed sur-
prising-; I have seen it roll up its leg's like a ball,
and lie motionless for hours together, but cautiously
watching all the time ; when a fly happened to ap-
proach sufficiently near, it would dart out all at once,
and often seize its prey.

" Of this life, however, it soon began to grow
weary, and resolved to invade the possession of some
other spider, since it could not make a web of its
own. It formed an attack upon a neighbouring for-
tification with great vigour, and at first was as
vigorously repulsed. Not daunted, however, with
one defeat, in this manner it continued to lay siege
to another's web for three days, and at length having
killed the defendant, actually took possession.

"The insect I am now describing lived three
years; every year it changed its skin, and got a new
set of legs. I have sometimes plucked off a limb,
which grew again in two or three days. At first it
dreaded my approach to its web, but at last it became
so familiar as to take a fly out of my hand, and on
my touching any part of the web, would immediately
leave its hole, prepared either for defence or attack."

But the ingenuity of the house-spider, although
very great, is still inferior to that of the garden-spi-
der. " As the net," says Kirby, in his admirable
account of the proceedings of this spider," is usually
fixed in a perpendicular or somewhat oblique direc-
tion, in an opening between the leaves of some shrub
or plant, it is obvious that round its whole extent
will be required lines to which can be attached those
ends of the radii that are farthest from the centre.
Accordingly, the construction of these exterior lines

238 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XIV.

is the spider's first operation. She seems careless
about the shape of the area which they enclose, well
aware that she can as readily inscribe a circle in a
triangle as in a square, and in this respect she is
guided by the distance or proximity of the points to
which she can attach them. She spares no pains,
however, to strengthen and keep them in a proper
degree of tension. With the former view she com-
poses each line of five or six or even more threads
glued together; and with the latter she fixes to them
from different points a numerous and intricate appa-
ratus of smaller threads. Having thus completed the
foundations of her snare, she proceeds to fill up the
outline. Attaching a thread to one of the main lines,
she walks along it, guiding it with one of her hind-
feet that it may not touch in any part and be pre-
maturely glued," and crosses over to the opposite
side, where, by applying her spinners, she firmly fixes
it. To the middle of this diagonal thread, which is
to form the centre of her net, she fixes a second,
which in like manner she conveys and fastens to
another part of the lines encircling the area. Her
work now proceeds rapidly. During the prelimi-
nary operations she sometimes rests, as though her
plan required meditation. But no sooner are the
marginal lines of her net firmly stretched, and two
or three radii spun from its centre, than she conti-
nues her labour so quickly and unremittingly that
the eye can scarcely follow her progress. The radii,
to the number of about twenty, giving the net the
appearance of a wheel, are speedily finished. She
then proceeds to the centre, quickly turns herself
round, and pulls each thread with her feet to ascer-
tain its strength, breaking any one that seems defect-
ive, and replacing it by another. Next, she glues
immediately round the centre five or six small con-
centric circles, distant about half a line from each
other, and then four or five larger ones, each sepa-
rated by a space of half an inch or more. These

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 239

last serve as a sort of temporary scaffolding to walk
over, and to keep the radii properly stretched while
she glues to them the concentric circles that are to
remain, which she now proceeds to construct.
Placing herself at the circumference, and fastening
her thread to the end of one of the radii, she walks
up that one, towards the centre,, to such a distance
as to draw the thread from her body of a sufficient
length to reach to the next. Then stepping across
and conducting the thread with one of her hind-feet
she glues it with her spinners to the point in the ad
joining radius to which it is to be fixed. This pro-
cess she repeats until she has filled up nearly the
whole space from the circumference to the centre
with concentric circles distant from each other about
two lines. She always, however, leaves a vacant
interval around the smallest first spun circles that
are nearest to the centre, but for what end I am
unable to conjecture. Lastly, she runs to the cen-
tre, and bites away the small cotton-like tuft that
united all the radii, which, being now held together
by the circular threads, have thus probably their
elasticity increased; and in the circular opening
resulting from this procedure she takes her station,
and watches for her prey."

The manoeuvres of a spider which wants to
escape from any object surrounded by water, are
extremely interesting. In his treatise on the Apple
and Pear, Mr. Knight states, that if a spider be placed
upon an upright stick, having its bottom immersed
in water, it will, after trying in vain all other modes
of escape, dart out numerous fine threads, so light
as to float in the air, some one of which, attach-
ing- itself to a neighbouring object, furnishes a
bridge for its escape. An experiment, made by
Kirby, confirms the truth of this statement. " I
placed," says he, " the large field-spider upon a stick,
about a foot long, set upright in a vessel containing
water. After fastening its thread (as all spiders do

240 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XIV.

before they move) at the tcp of the stick, it crept
down the side until it felt the water with its fore-
feet, which seem to serve as antennae ; it then im-
mediately swung- itself from the stick (which was
slightly bent), and climbed up by the thread to the
top. This it repeated perhaps a score of times,
sometimes creeping down a different jfart of the
stick, but more frequently down the very side it had
so often traversed in vain. At length, it let itself
drop from the top of the stick, not by a single thread,
but by too, each distant from the other about the
twelfth of an inch, guided as usual by one of its
hind-feet; one of the threads being apparently
smaller than the other. When it had suffered itself
to descend nearly to the surface of the water, it
stopped short, and, by some means which I could
not distinctly see, broke off, close to the spinners,
the smallest thread, which; still adhering by the end
to the top of the stick, floated in the air, and was so
light as to be carried about by the slightest breath."
Shortly afterward he found one of these threads
extending from the top of the stick to a cabinet,
seven or eight inches distant ; the prisoner had then
made its escape, using this thread doubtless as a
bridge.

The spiders which form nets of concentric circles,
differ from the house-spider with respect to the
situation in which they remain, while watching for
their prey. Instead of lying concealed under the net,
they place themselves in its centre, with their head
downwards, and retire to a little apartment formed
under some leaf, near one side of the net, only when
they happen to be alarmed by the approach of dan-
ger, or driven to seek for shelter by stress of wea-
ther. * This apartment is also used as a slaughter-
house; for the moment an ill-starred fly, or other
insect, comes in contact with the net, the spider
springs upon it with the rapidity of lightning ; and
if the captured insect be of small size only, the

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 241

spider conveys it at once to the place of slaughter ;
and, having at its leisure sucked all its juice, throws
out the carcass. If the insect, being somewhat
larger in size, should struggle to escape, the spider,
with surprising address and agility, envelopes its
prey in a mesh of threads passed round its body in
various directions ; both its wings and legs being by
these means effectually secured, it is then conveyed
to the den, and devoured. Sometimes a bee, or
large fly, too powerful to be mastered by the spider,
happens to get entangled in its toils ; in this case,
the wary animal, conscious of its incapacity to con-
tend against such fearful odds, makes no attempt
either to seize or embarrass the intruder: on the
contrary, it assists the entangled captive in its efforts
to free itself, and often goes so far as to break off
that part of the net from which it may be suspended ;
apparently content to get rid of so unwelcome and
unwieldy a customer at any sacrifice.

In the fen ditches of Norfolk, a large spider has
been found, which actually forms a raft for the pur-
pose of obtaining its prey with more facility. It
first constructs a ball of weeds about three inches
in diameter. Taking its station upon this floating
island, it glides along upon the surface of the water;
the moment it sees a drowning insect, it pounces
upon it, not, as it may be well imagined, for the pur-
pose of aiding its escape, but of hastening its
destruction. The body thus obtained is then con-
veyed upon the floating raft, where it is devoured at
leisure.

The spider has many enemies ; and hence its
web is always in danger of being deranged and
damaged ; to meet this inconvenience, nature has
furnished the insect with a magazine of materials
for occasional repairs, and which, although fre-
quently exhausted, still continues to be replenished;
this reservoir, however, is drained in time. When
spiders grow old, their supply of gum is dried up ;
I.— X

242 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XIV.

but even when this calamity happens, the cunning
creature is not altogether destitute oi resources
which avail it for some time longer. A crafty old
spider, having no longer the means of securing a
subsistence, seeks out a young one, to which it
communicates its wants and necessities ; on which
the other, either out of respect for old age, or from
a dread of old pincers, resigns its place, and spins
a new web in another situation. But if the old
spider can find none of its species which will, either
from love or fear, resign its net, it must then perish
for want of subsistence.

A species of spider (My gale cementaria), inhabit*
ing the south of Europe, constructs a cylindrical
cavity more than two feet long, in some sloping
bank, calculated to let the water run off; the inside
is lined with a web of fine silk* But in addition to
the sagacity of choosing a steep bank and the luxury
of furnishing its retreat with silk, this spider has the
power of constructing a regular door : for this pur-
pose it joins and cements layers of clay or chalk
with its glutinous secretions, and thus contrives to
make a door exactly circular, and so nicely fitting
into the aperture of the cell, as to prevent its being
distinguished by the casual observer from the sur-
rounding earth. But the most marvellous circum-
stance yet remains to be told — the sagacious crea-
ture positively fabricates a hinge of silk, which it
invariably fixes to the highest side of the aperture,
so that it can very easily be pushed open from
within by the insect, and shuts by its own weight.
Thus banicadoed, the gallery furnishes a secure
habitation for the male and female, with twenty or
thirty of their young. No noise however loud, no
thumping however violent, will bring the cunning
inhabitant out of its cell ; but if the least attempt
be made to force the trap-door, a curious scene
takes place — the spider immediately runs to it, and
fixing some of its legs to the silk which lines the

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 243

door, and the rest to the walls of the gallery, it
pulls with all its might against the intruder. Ob-
servers have convinced themselves of the fact by
lifting up the door with a pin, when they have felt
the counter tugs of the spider endeavouring to shut
it. As soon as the creature is convinced that far-
ther efforts are useless, it relinquishes the contest,
and retires to the bottom of the gallery. All
attempts to observe the manners of this creature in
captivity have proved fruitless, as it soon perished.
These spiders prowl about at night, and having
secured their prey, drag it within their den, and con-
sume it at their leisure.

The water-spider (Aranea aquatica) is another
Avhich spins no web to catch its prey ; but, never-
theless, offers one of the most singular objects of
contemplation. If we possessed no other evidence
that the \vorld had been planned and created by an
Intelligent Being, the habits, proceedings, and in-
stincts of this little creature would be alone suffi-
cient to prove the fact. As soon as it has caught
its prey on the shore, it dives to the bottom of the
waters, and there devours its booty. It is, therefore,
an amphibious animal; although it appears more
fitted to live in contact with the atmosphere than
with the water. The diving-bell is a modern inven-
tion ; and few facts excite our wonder more than
the possibility of a man's being enabled to live and
move at the bottom of the ocean. This triumph of
reason over the unfriendly element, however, was
anticipated by an insect, — the spider in question.

This creature spins some loose threads which it
attaches to the leaves of aquatic plants; it then
varnishes them with a glutinous secretion, which
resembles liquid glass, and is so elastic as to admit
of considerable distention and contraction ; it next
lays a coating of this same substance over its own
body, and underneath this coating introduces a
bubble of air. Naturalists conjecture that it has the

244 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XIV.

power of drawing this air in at the anus, from the
atmosphere at the surface of the pool, but the pre-
cise mode in which it is separated from the body of
the atmosphere, and introduced under the pellicle
covering the insect's body, has not been clearly as-
certained. Thus clothed, and shining1 like a ball of
quicksilver, it darts through the waters, to the spot
in which it had fixed its habitation, and disengaging
the bubble from under the pellicle, it dexterously
introduces it into a web formed at the bottom.
After repeatedly moving from the top to the bottom
of the water, and at each journey filling its habita-
tion with a fresh bubble of air, at length the lighter
completely expels the heavier fluid, and the insect
takes possession of an aerial habitation, commodious
and dry, finished in the very midst of the waters.
It is about the size and shape of half a pigeon's egg.
From this curious chamber the spider hunts, search-
ing sometimes the waters, and sometimes the land
for its prey, which, when obtained, is transported to
this sub-aquatic mansion, and devoured at leisure.
The male as well as the female exhibits the same in-
stincts. Early in the spring, the former seeks the
mansion of the latter, and having enlarged it by the
introduction of a little more air, takes up its abode
with its mate. About the middle of April, the eggs
are laid, and, packed up in a silken cocoon in a cor-
ner of their house, are watched with incessant care
by the female.

In modern times, much interest has been excited
by the elevation of bodies in the air by means of a
balloon. The discovery consisted in finding out a
manageable substance which was, bulk for bulk,
lighter than air ; and the application of the discovery
was to make a body composed of this substance
bear up, along with its own weight, some heavier
body which was attached to it. This expedient, so
new to us, proves to be no other than what the Au-
thor of nature has employed in the gossamer spider.

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 245

We frequently see this spider's thread floating in
the air, and extended from hedge to hedge across a
road or brook of four or five yards' width. The
animal which forms the thread has no wings where-
with to fly from one extremity to the other of this
line, nor muscles to enable it to spring or dart to so
great a distance ; yet its Creator hath laid for it a
path in the atmosphere; and after this manner,
though the insect itself be heavier than air, the
thread which it, spins from its bowels is specifically
lighter. This is its balloon. The spider, left to
itself, would drop to the ground ; but being tied to
its thread, both are supported. By this contrivance,
the creatures mount into the air to such immense
heights, that when Dr. Martin Lister ascended York
Minster, he still saw these insects much above him.
In the fine summer days, the air may be seen filled,
and the earth covered with filmy webs : —

The fine nets which oft we woven see, of scorched dew.

SPENSER.

Most nations have associated something poetical
with their presence. The Germans, from constantly
observing them in the beginning of the autumn,
have styled the phenomenon " the flitting summer."
The French, unable to account for the existence of
such pure films, in the open and beautiful autumnal
skies, called them the threads of the " Virgin." And
we the gossamer —

Lovers who may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton air.

Mr. White gives a curious account of a shower of
these gossamers. In September, 1741, being intent
on field sports, he found the whole face of the coun-
try covered with a coat of web drenched in dew, as
thick as if two or three setting nets had been drawn
one over the other. His dogs were so blinded by
them as to be obliged to lie down and scrape them-
X2

246 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIV.

selves. About 9 A. M. these films, some an inch
broad and six long, fell from a height, and continued
to do so the whole day, with a velocity which proved
their weight. When the most elevated parts of the
country were ascended, the gossamers were seen to
fall from higher regions ; and twinkling and glitter-
ing in the sun, they appeared like a starry shower,
fixing the attention even of the most incurious.

These are now known to be the work of a spider,
for they have been either caught in their balloons, or
been seen to take flight. To produce such effects,
their numbers of course must be prodigious. Dr.
Strach says, " that twenty or thirty often are found
on a single stubble ;" and adds, " that he collected
two thousand in half an hour, and could easily have
got twice as many had he wished it."

Dr. Lister has seen them in the air in vast num-
bers. The mode in which they mount is strikingly
singular. It is now generally admitted that several
kinds of spiders have a power of darting out a
thread in any direction, and to a comparatively great
distance. The mechanism, however, of this extra-
ordinary effort is not at all understood. I saw a
spider descend from a window-ledge, by means of a
thread, and gathering up its legs, elevating its ab-
domen, and lying on its back, it shot out another to
the bricks, as straight and direct as an arrow. The
distance, I am sure, could not have been much less
than eight inches.

This appears to be the mode adopted by the bird-
spider. It shoots out a thread, which being lighter
than the air, mounts, and buoys up the insect itself,
as the tail of a kite does the body. Some of them,
it would appear, not only bestride their film, but roll
it up in a mass, and thus sail in a balloon.

"Every day in fine autumnal weather," says
White, " do I see these spiders shooting out their
web and mounting aloft. They will go off from the
finger if you will take them into your hand ; last

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 247

summer one alighted on my book, as I was reading
in the parlour, and running to the top of the page,
and shooting out a web, took its departure from
thence. But what I most wondered at was, that it
went off with considerable velocity, in a place where
no air was stirring; and I am sure I did not assist it
with my breath ; so that these little crawlers seem
to have, while mounting, some locomotive power,
without the use of wings, and move faster than the
air in the air itself." Their motion in flying is
smoother and quicker than when a spider runs along
its thread.

There are many questions connected with our
aeronauts, which are more readily asked than an-
swered ; and the first is, why do they mount at all ?
Kirby is of opinion, that they are destined to thin
the air of those swarms of gnats and other insects,
which ascend to considerable height in the summer
evenings, and as a corroboration of his conjectures,
adds, that their exuviae are detected in the gossa-
mers which have fallen.

It is doubted also, whether the " sea of gauze sil-
vered with dew," which is found in the summer
morning, covering the fallows, is ever carried up
into the air. The dew itself is greedily drank by
these spiders. The cause of the showers of gossa-
mer is also a matter of dispute among naturalists.

Spiders frequently manifest various modifications
of their instinctive craft and cruelty. There are
some species that lie concealed in a rolled up leaf,
and pounce upon any insect that may be unwarily
passing. Others that lurk in the cup of a flower,
and murder the fly that comes to seek honey.
Others counterfeit death, and thus inveigle their
prey within their reach. Others seek the blossoms
of umbelliferous plants, which resemble them in
colour and in shape, and thus entrap their victims.

There is a tribe of hunting-spiders that leap like
tigers on their prey, and what is more extraordinary

248 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XIV.

have the faculty of doing so sideways. One of
these jumped two feet on an humble bee. They ap-
proach the object of their intended attack with the
noiseless and imperceptible motion of the shadow
of a sun-dial. If the fly move, the spider moves
also ; backwards, forwards, or sideways, and that
with so much precision as to time and distance, that
the two insects appeared as if bound together by
some invisible chain, or actuated by the same spirit.
If the fly take wing and pitch behind the spider, the
head of the latter is turned round to meet it so
quickly, that the human eye is deceived, and the
spider appears to be motionless. When all these
manoeuvres bring the fly within its spring, the leap
is made with fearful rapidity, and the prey struck
down like lightning.

The redeeming trait in the history of these cruel
creatures is, their affection for their young. All
spiders envelope their eggs in a silken cocoon ; some
hide them in clefts of walls, or in a cylinder formed
of leaves ; some carry them attached to their abdo-
men, or bear them about as a cat lifts its kitten ;
none ever desert their precious charge. A spider,
to be met with under clods of earth, may frequently
be seen to carry a silken globe full of eggs fixed to
its body. The tenacity of affection exhibited
towards this, its sole treasure, is truly touching;
nothing, not even its life, is valued in comparison
with this little globe. If an attempt be made to de-
prive it of this valued deposite, it strenuously re-
sists : take it away entirely, and the insect remains
motionless and rooted to the spot stupified and me-
lancholy: restore it, and you restore the animal to
life : it eagerly seizes it, and runs off to place it in
a securer spot.

Bonnet threw one of these spiders, to whose ab-
domen the bag of eggs was attached, into the den
of the ant-lion. The animal, as if aware of its
danger, instantly took to flight, but not quickly

CH. XIV.] THE SPIDER. 249

enough to prevent the ant-lion from seizing the bag
of eggs between its formidable pincers ; the mother
made every effort to withdraw herself from her
dangerous foe, and in her struggles the bag became
loosened, and was retained by her enemy. Instead,
however, of saving her own life, which she could
easily have done by running off, she instantly turned
and seized the bag between her jaws, and struggled
to regain her lost treasure ; the enormous strength
of the ant-lion was too great for her powers, even
though stimulated by the full force of maternal in-
stinct, and the eggs were consequently drawn under
the sand ; still, however, she retained her hold, and
rather than relinquish that, without which life was
a burden, she suffered herself to be buried alive with
her progeny. It was now that Bonnet compas-
sionated her fate and rescued her from the jaws of
death, but he could not restore to her the bag of
eggs so tenaciously held by the ant-lion. She lin-
gered at the spot where the eggs were buried, re-
gardless alike of her own danger, and of the efforts
of Bonnet to remove her from her enemy, by push-
ing her off with a piece of twig.

Her cares are not confined to the egg only, but
when the young themselves are evolved, she allows
them to cling to her body, until such time as they
shall become strong enough to hunt for themselves ;
and thus laden, she may be seen in her ordinary
haunts. Much has been said of the venom of spi-
ders, but. De Geer and others, who have made the
experiment on themselves, have never found any ill
effects arising from tfae trial.

Spiders have been domesticated ; a Parisian ma-
nufacturer kept and fed eight hundred of these
creatures, in one apartment ; they became so tame,
that whenever he came in with his dish of flies, they
descended to take their food. This story, related
in the French Dictionary of Natural History, if true,
proves, that even these solitary and cruel creatures

250 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XV.

may in some degree be tamed, and lose their natural
propensities to attack and eat each other.

Another instance is mentioned by Latreille, in
which a spider appears to have acquired tame habits.
A Frenchman of the name of Pelisson, being im-
prisoned in the Bastile, was deprived of pen, ink,
and paper, and reduced to the society of an ignorant
and sullen Basque, whose only occupation was
playing on the musette. A spider made its web at
the edge of the window which lighted the prison ;
and to relieve the dreadful ennui of his situation,
Pelisson undertook to tame it, by placing flies in its
way, while the Basque played upon his instrument.
By degrees the spider became accustomed to the
sound, and ran from its hole to receive its prey.
Thus by being always summoned by the same sound,
and having its food placed gradually at a farther
distance from the web, the insect in a few months
became so well disciplined, that at the first signal,
it would leave its hiding place, and come and take
its flies at the bottom of the chamber, under Pelis-
son's eyes.

CHAPTER XV.

CATERPILLARS.

Their singular Habits—The Grub of the Domestic Moth fabricates a
Mantle— Habits of the Field Moth— Caddis-worm.
*

THE habits of some insects during their larva or
caterpillar state are so singular, and manifest so
much ingenuity and design, that a short account of
them cannot fail to prove interesting.

Few insects appear more deserving of admiration
than those which possess the art of fabricating gar-

CH. XV. J THE CATERPILLAR. 251

merits for their own use. Like the human race,
they come into the world naked ; and their birth is
scarcely completed, when they begin the task of
clothing themselves. The reader will easily per-
ceive that the insects here alluded to are the little
moths which, in warm weather, are seen to issue
from our closets, where furniture, cloth, ermine,
feathers, all fall a sacrifice to the depredations, not
indeed of the moth itself, but of the worm which is
evolved from the egg of the moth. All that the
moth does is to deposite its eggs on these different
articles ; but it is the grub that proceeds from these
eggs that effects all the mischief. The grubs of the
different sorts of domestic moths do not make their
garments after the same fashion, nor of the same
materials. It is probable that the different species
of moths vary as much in this respect as the inha-
bitants of different countries: the shape of their
garment is peculiarly convenient ; it is a small cy-
lindrical tube open at both ends, and exactly fitted
to the body of the grub ; the stuff used for this pur-
pose is fabricated by the moth. The tissue is a
mixture of hair and silk ; but as this would not be
sufficiently soft for the tender body of the worm, it
is lined internally with pure silk. Articles manu-
factured of hair, fur, or wool supply the caterpillar
of the moth with the raw material which it wants
for the fabrication of its stuff; they select those
hairs which appear most suitable to their purpose ;
cut them with their teeth, and with admirable skill
incorporate them with their silky tissue.

They never change their garment ; that which
they put on in infancy continues to shelter them
during the whole of their lives. But they are able both
to lengthen and widen their vesture whenever they
think proper. To lengthen it is a very simple pro-
cess : it only requires that a few new threads, or
new hairs, should be added to each end of their gar-
ment ; but to widen it is a matter of more difficulty :

252 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH, XV.

to effect this object, the insect adopts the same steps
as a human mechanic would pursue under similar
circumstances. It splits its garment on the two
opposite sides, and in the intervals thus formed, skil-
fully inserts two pieces of stuff of the necessary
width ; it does not at once split its coat from one
end to the other : this would cause the parts to se-
parate too widely, as well as expose the caterpillar
in a state of nakedness to the action of the open
air : to avx^id these inconveniences, it splits each
side only half the length of the whole garment ; it
then proceeds to the other end, which it enlarges in
a similar manner. Thus, instead of two whole

This figure shows the garment split in half the length.

length openings, filled up by two whole length pieces,
four half length openings and pieces are used. A
reasonable agent could not follow a more ingenious
or more efficient plan. A coat made in this fashion
is not the work of a day nor yet of a month ; differ-
ent caterpillars labour with different degrees of dili-
gence ; and even the same worm, when deprived of
its clothing in an advanced stage of its existence,
will finish in one week what it had previously taken
it perhaps months to execute.

The garment of this caterpillar is always of the
same colour as the stuff from which its raw material
has been taken ; if a worm, enveloped in a blue coat,
happen to remove to a piece of red cloth, the addi-
tions which may be made to the ends of the tube, or
the pieces inserted in the sides to widen it, will be
of a red colour ; if it happen to travel over cloth
of different colours, its garment will exhibit a cor-
responding variety of hues.

These caterpillars live upon the same materials

CH. XV.] THE CATERPILLAR 253

which compose their covering1. It is singular that
these substances should be digested by them ; and
still more singular that their colour should be so
little affected b)^ this digestive process ; for the ex-
crements of these caterpillars are invariably found
to be of the same colour (though lighter) as the
substances which they may have eaten.

These caterpillars make short excursions : when
the part in which they first settled has been shaven
quite bare, the animals remove to another spot in
search of a fresh supply. Those which settle upon
garments of fur do not like to walk over long hairs ;

they therefore never proceed except scythe in hand,
and cut off every pile which comes in their way.
Now and then they are seen in a state of repose ;
they then fix their case to the body of the cloth with
little threads, and thus, as it were, come to an an-
chor. They fix themselves still more firmly to the
cloth, when about to fall into a torpid state during
the winter, or when about to undergo their meta-
morphosis ; they then close exactly both the ends of
their case with silken threads, in order that they

254 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XV.

may be in a state of greater safety while assuming1
first the form of chrysalis, and subsequently that of
a moth.

The admiration which the ingenuity and proceed-
ings of the domestic moth inspired in the mind of
Reaumur did not prevent him from endeavouring to
discover the best means of destroying them, and of
rescuing our furniture and clothes from their de-
structive ravages. After various experiments made
with different substances, he gives the preference to
oil of turpentine, whicli, as he asserts, proves always
fatal to these insects, v A few drops of this oil
spread upon sheets of paper were invariably found
to destroy them. Its smell threw them into convul-
sions, and covered with livid spots they were seen
to expire. It has also been found that the fumes of
tobacco will destroy the moth.

But interesting as the proceedings of the domestic
moth may justly appear, they are still infinitely sur-
passed by the ingenuity and industry of the field or
rustic moth. This latter tribe construct their gar-
ments of materials collected from the leaves of
plants ; but before these materials can be used, it is
indispensable that they should pass through a pre-
paratory process, which may give them the lightness
and pliancy necessary to render them fit for their
clothing. Thoir proceedings are so extraordinary,
and in appearance so rational and well considered ;
they are varied in a manner so suitable to the exi-
gency and circumstances of each particular case,
that their habits justly deserve to be detailed.

These caterpillars are a species of leaf miners,
and are to be found in the greatest numbers in the
oak and the elm. The mantle which they fabricate
is nearly cylindrical in form, but the ends are not
similarly fashioned ; the fore end, where the head
of the caterpillar shows itself, is rounded, bent, and
hemmed ; the other end is formed of three triangular
pieces, which by their natural spring are brought

CH. XV.^ THE CATERPILLAR. 255

into a point, and which easily open in order to make
way for the extremity of the insect.

When beginning to fabricate this mantle, the
caterpillar glides into the pulpy substance of a green
leaf, penetrates between the two membranes which
form its external coats, and detaches the pulpy sub-
stance or parenchyma, which is enclosed in these
membranes. This substance constitutes the proper
food of the caterpillar ; hence, while the animal satis-
fies the cravings of hunger, it prepares the stuff
from which its mantle is to be fabricated ; the two
membranes of the leaf are the stuff destined for this
purpose. Each of these thin substances is to the
caterpillar what a piece of cloth is to a tailor ; like
that useful mechanic, the little animal cuts each
piece of the form and proportion which it ought to
have, in order to answer the purpose for which it is
destined.

Anxious to ascertain how this mantle was made,
Reaumur watched his opportunity, and removed one
of them, before the insect, which happened to be
then busily feeding in the parenchyma of the leaf,
had time to retreat : the creature, having discovered
its loss, seemed to be in great alarm, and came out
tail foremost; it felt about for its mantle, but not
finding what it sought, it re-entered between the
membranes of the leaf, where it began to feed right
and left ; having consumed the parenchyma, from a
space of adequate dimensions, it proceeded to repair
its loss. From the membranes of the leaf it cut
two pieces, equal in extent, and similar in shape,
each piece being destined to form one-half of the
mantle. This part of the process was executed
with singular rapidity, as well as with matchless
skill and precision. This is far from being a me-
chanical operation; for the pieces composing the
mantle are not regular figures, one end of each being
double the size of the other. The materials of the

256 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XV.

mantle being thus prepared and cut, the next opera-
tion was to sew the two pieces together.

The seams are not completed at once : the insect
places itself between the two pieces while they are
flat ; it then brings them together at certain points,
with intervals of considerable extent still open,
while it twists and turns about its body in all direc-
tions ; by this means the plane surfaces of the two
pieces become gradually moulded into a concave
form, suited to the body of the insect. Having thus,
like a prudent and judicious tailor, ascertained that
the mantle will fit in every part, it brings the edges
of the pieces close together throughout their whole
length, and sews them so neatly and firmly, that
although the place and direction of the seam be well
known, it is extremely difficult, even with the aid of
a lens, to detect it in the finished mantle.

But the little animal is not content with an out-
ward covering, formed solely of the membranes of
a leaf; this would not probably be found either soft
enough or warm enough for its purpose : all inequali-
ties which might injure its tender skin are care-
fully removed from every part of the interior, and
the whole is doubled and lined throughout with a
coating of silk ; the lining being rendered thicker in
those parts which, from being prominent, are pecu-
liarly exposed to friction. Reaumur found that the
insect whose coat he abstracted completed another
in the short space of twelve hours.

The finishing hand having been thus put to the
mantle, another operation now remains to be exe-
cuted. It is necessary that it should be detached
altogether from the leaf, in which, as well as from
which, it has been fabricated ; to effect this requires
strength rather than skill : accordingly, the insect
crawls partially out of its case, pushes its head for-
ward, as nearly as can be, in a straight line, fastens
its fore-legs upon the leaf, and laying hold of the

CH. XV.] THE CATERPILLAR. 257

inside of the case with its hind-legs, detaches it in-
stantly from its original place, and drags it forward :
it advances thus gradually, and at length fixes the
case with silken cords, either to another leaf or an-
other part of the same leaf, containing a fresh sup-
ply of provisions. The annexed figure gives a re-
presentation of the different operations which have
been just described. In the first (fig. 1) the worm
is seen between the thin membranes of the leaf and
destitute of its coat ; the second (2) shows the com-
mencement of the cutting process ; the third (3) re-
presents the work in a state considerably advanced ;
the insect being engaged in converting it from a
plane into a cylinder ; in the fourth (4) it is seen en-
deavouring to detach its finished mantle from the
leaf; the last is a distinct representation of the little
animal enveloped in its new coat.

j>

As soon as the insect has fastened its mantle, or,
as it may be properly called, its tent, to a fresh por-
tion of a leaf on which it intends to feed, it pierces
the outer skin or epidermis, eats only the juicy sub-
stance contained between the two membranes of the
leaf, and sedulously avoids doing the slightest injury
to the upper membrane ; it gradually extends its ex-
cursions in search of food, considerably beyond the
Y2

258 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XV.

part to which the mouth of its mantle is attached ;
and as it consumes the intervening substance* it
renders the epidermis so transparent, that its own
body and motions became perfectly visible. As the
pulpy substance nearest to the mouth of the case
becomes exhausted, the insect is of course forced to
advance farther in search of a fresh supply; the
body is, therefore, gradually dragged out of the
case, until at last little remains in it except the tail :
hence the necessity of fastening the mantle to the
leaf, as without this precaution it would drop off,
leaving the insect defenceless. If the leaf be in the
slightest degree agitated, it immediately retreats
backward into its case, so that whether feeding or
reposing it is always under cover.

The following figures show not only that the case
of the insect is fixed at an angle more or less in-
clined to the under surface of the leaf, but likewise
give a correct representation of the mantle itself;
the shape, however, frequently varies : in some in-
stances, instead of being indented, it is simply a
cylinder slightly curved.

Fig. 1, a mantle with a serrated border.

2, a mantle which is cylindrical, and fixed at an angle on the leaf.

Other caterpillars, more sagacious than that
already described, mine the leaf near one of its

CH. XV.] THE CATERPILLAR.

edges, taking great care not to separate the two
membranes where they are joined together by na-
tural indentations.

In this figure, the caterpillar has left his old coat attached to the stalk
of the leaf, and has taken the first step in forming a new one, by
eating out a portion, which is seen white in the cut.

It will readily be perceived, that by proceeding in
this manner, the insect saves much labour ; it finds
by this means one side cut ready for its purposes,
and also joined and sewed at the indentations by the
hand of nature, even more neatly and firmly than it
could be done by its own labour.

But what is still more extraordinary, these cater-
pillars are found to vary their proceedings according
to circumstances. Reaumur surprised one of them
while engaged in the act of making its mantle. To
form one side of it, the creature had selected the
ready joined edge of a leaf, mining only for the other
side ; with a pair of scissors, Reaumur cut off the
indentations at their roots : by this means, the
membranes were of course loosened at their point
of junction. Without the slightest hesitation or
delay, the worm adopted the only expedient which
could remedy the mischief; it instantly set about
sowing artificially the two edges, which were pre*

260 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XV.

viously joined by the hand of nature, and then pro-
ceeded in its subsequent operations, just as if it had
experienced no interruption. It will be easily per-
ceived that the proceedings of a caterpillar, which
makes its coat on the edge of a leaf, must differ in
many points from those of another worm, which
fabricates it in the centre : the latter may cut away
as boldly as it pleases ; there is no danger of a fall,
since the inequalities of the edges are found to re-
tain the pieces in their original position: if the
former, however, were to proceed in the same mariner,
and separate the side of its coat nearest the centre
of the leaf, before it had been thoroughly finished,
the whole would necessarily fall to the ground for
want of support. Accordingly, as soon as the cun-
ning tailor had repaired the damage which its coat

had sustained from the scissors of the naturalist, it
mined a space sufficiently large for the purpose ; this
part was then rounded, made hollow, and carefully
lined with silk ; and it was not until all this had been
completed, that the insect began to cut its mantle
on the side which was nearest the centre of the leaf.
In the execution of this part of the operation much
caution was evinced. The caterpillar did riot cut
continuously from one end to the other ; it only cut
the intervals which lay between the large nervures
of the leaf; so that although a considerable propor-
tion of the whole length of the coat was separate^

H. XV.] THE CATERPILLAR. 261

from the body of the leaf, it was still retained in its
original position by these natural cords or stays.
Nor does the silken lining cover every part of the
inside towards the centre of the leaf; in order that
the coat might be detached from the leaf, it was
necessary that the nervures, or cables, which held it
in its place, should be at length cut away. The
cunning creature had there fore left loopholes, through
which it might thrust its head and cut these natural
cables, one after another. As each nervure was
cut away, the loophole which enabled the insect to
reach it was closed up, and the space nicely lined
with silk. All the others having been cut away, the
coat became at last suspended by one only of these
nervures ; at the proper time, this last nervure was
cut off, when the insect taking up its finished mantle
walked away.

The caterpillars of the moth which feed on wool-
len stuffs and household furniture do not change
their dress, but simply enlarge it as the size in-
creases ; but the caterpillars of the field moth fabri-
cate an entirely new suit, whenever they have out-
grown their old covering. It is within these mantles
that they undergo the usual metamorphosis, and
reach their perfect state, when they appear in the
shape of moths, in size considerably inferior to those
which infest closets and clothes-presses.

Each tribe of the moths fabricates its vestments
after a fashion peculiar to itself, and different from
that adopted by others.

A moth which feeds on a species of astragalus
adorns its robe, as ladies used to do in other times,
with furbelows. The body of the habit is a cylin-
drical tube lined with silk, and ornamented with fur-
belows puffed out ; each flounce seems to mark the
growth of the worm ; for Reaumur conjectures, that
when it has outgrown the first, it adds a second di-
vision to its tube, and to that a third : they are rarely
found to have more than three flounces ; each fur-

262 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XV.

below is composed of two semicircles joined to-
gether.

Fig. 1, the furbelow-mantle seen stuck to the leaf.
2, the mantle separated.

Another moth (psyche graminella) covers its silken
coat with bits of grass, and seems as if it were pro-
tected by a coat of mail or a covering of tiles. This
appears to be done in order to give strength and con-
sistence to the silken tube, and enable it to sustain

Mantle of Psycho Gramirmlla

CH. XV.] THE CATERPILLAR. 263

the friction to which it is unavoidably exposed from
the movements of the insect.

Although the vestments of each tribe are gene-
rally formed in a uniform manner, still there are
some exceptions to this ; for instance, the caddis-
worm, so well known to old Isaak Walton, and to
all the brothers of the angle, is not at all choice in
the selection of the ornaments with which it deco-
rates its coat : shells, stems, leaves, straws, and bits
of wood, in short, almost any manageable substance,
will serve its purpose. The only thing which is
common to all the figures is, the cylindrical tube
opens at each extremity.

1. In figure 1, the worm has covered its silken case with leaves, so
arranged as to present the appearance of a Spanish mantle.

2. In fig. 2, it is bristled all over with stalks of plants, surmounted by
a huge shell, and two pieces of wood, looking very much like horns.

3. In fig. 3, the worm is seen cased in two semi-cylindrical pieces of
hollow bark ; having accidentally lighted upon these materials, it
has joined them together, and has thus formed a complete covering
with little or no sewing.

4. Fig. 4 represents the worm enveloped in a symmetrical and spiral
case of riband beautifully rolled ; the parts are so nicely fitted, that
it has the appearance of being one continuous piece ; a careful ex-
amination will, however, show, that it is composed of several de-
tached bits joined together.

5. The last, fig. 5, exhibits a section of one of those cases, with tha
bits of wood arranged around it.

Sometimes these coats are covered exclusively
with shells, which occasionally envelope living snails,

264 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XV.

fixed in such a way as to prevent them from chang-
ing their place

It is not, however, to be imagined, that the worm
loads its case with these singular materials without a
valid reason. This worm is an aquatic insect ; the
annexed figure will show that its form is but little

adapted for swimming ; its long body, encumbered
with six legs, is specifically heavier than water, the
element in which it has to seek its food. As a com-
pensation, the Author of nature seems to have en-
dowed it with an instinctive faculty, which enables
it to know what substances are lighter than water :
these it attaches to its coat, in order to counterpoise
its own excess of gravity, and enable it to swim
on the surface, in the centre, or at the bottom of the
element in which it has to seek its food. This
seems to account for the variety and singularity
observable in the coats of those insects. When
they want to ascend, the quantity of hollow and
buoyant substances attached to them is increased :
in order to descend, the light and hollow substances
are either diminished or counterpoised by an addition
uf heavy materials, such as shells or gravel.
Another tribe of moths (the Galena %f Fabricius),

CH. XV.] THE CATERPILLAR. 265

instead of clothing themselves in the manner above
described, shelter themselves in hollow tubes, which
thev lengthen as they advance. One species (the
Galeria Cerea) establishes its residence among the
warlike and well-armed inhabitants of the bee-hive ;
where it subsists at the expense of this industrious
race, cutting and destroying works which have
required the greatest industry and art to execute.
It is natural to imagine that the bees do not willingly
allow this destruction to be effected by an insect
which, when it has reached perfection, is but a con-
temptible and effeminate moth, and which in its im-
perfect state is merely a worm easily pierced by
their sting ; and there can be no doubt that many
fall a sacrifice to their just anger. Reaumur has
seen several bees chasing a moth all over the hive :
the creature, however, ran faster than its pursuers,
and after much twisting and turning, got between
the interstices and the corners of the cells, where
it remained entirely beyond the reach of its enemies.
In this situation of perfect security the moth lays
its eggs : from these eggs, in the proper season,
worms proceed, which instantly attack the wax for
the purpose of constructing a gallery. Each cater-
pillar has its own distinct gallery, which is a winding
tube, sometimes eighteen inches long : no part of
the comb is safe, and the devastation committed is
sometimes so great, that its legitimate inhabitants
are often compelled to quit the hive. The interior
of these tubes is lined with silk. It constitutes one
of the curious anomalies which are to be met with
in the works of nature, that bees, which in other
respects perform wonders, should never attempt to
destroy these tubes — they will eat away paper and
cut wood ; yet they have never been known to touch
these long galleries, which perforate and destroy
their combs in every direction.
Z

266 NATURAL HISTORY. fcH. XVI

CHAPTER XVI.

SOCIAL CATERPILLARS.

Move in regular Files — Form Nests lined with Silk — " The Procession-
ary"—The Leaf -rolling— The Leaf-bending — TJie Leaf -mining C a
terpil.lar.

THE caterpillars described in the last chapter are
hermits, which lead a solitary life : there are, how-
ever, other tribes which spend either a part or the
whole of their vermicular life in society. The per-
fect insect deposites all its eggs on the same leaf or
plant, and the caterpillars proceeding from these
eggs are disclosed about the same time, and fre-
quently live together until they assume a different
form. The gold-tailed moth (Jlrctia Chrysorrhcea)
is one of those insects which lay eggs productive of
social caterpillars. They deposite their eggs in a
cover, formed of hair plucked from their own body.
The moment one of these caterpillars is evolved, it
seeks its food on the leaf on which the Author of
nature had taught the parent insect to deposite it :
a second soon joins the first-born : and a third speed-
ily follows the second : thus a row of caterpillars
parallel to each other may be seen reaching nearly
across the leaf: a second row then begins to form
itself; which, when it has extended across the leaf,
is succeeded by a third. The whole of the upper
surface of the leaf becomes thus entirely covered,
except a small space left open for the first rank to
feed upon. The heads of each rank being generally
in the same line, they all advance simultaneously ;
and their progress has very much the appearance of
a regular military movement ; as may be seen by the
annexed figure.

CH. XVI.4] THE CATERPILLAR. 267

They eat only the upper membrane of the leaf;
leaving- the larger nervures and the under skin un-
touched. The parts which they do not consume,
are wanted in order to construct a habitation to pro-
tect them against the inclemencies of the weather,
and conceal them from their natural enemies. As
soon as they have satisfied the calls of appetite,
some of the young caterpillars set about tying the
leaf, which, having been already rendered thin and
supple, is easily made to assume a concave shape.
The threads used in joining the edges of the leaf, so
as to give it a cup-like shape, are so many, that they
form a little silken roof, under which the caterpillars
feed. The exposure, however, to the light and
heat does not seem to be agreeable to them ; they
therefore add to the thin silken roof threads in such
quantities, that a perfectly white and impervious
web is made. These, after all, are but temporary
sheds hastily formed, until the insects have had
time to construct a more complete and durable fa-
bric. After the lapse of a few days they commence
the erection of their new abode, which is a silken
tent, sufficiently capacious to contain the whole
community, and so closely woven, as to afford them,
during the whole of the winter, a complete shelter
both from wind and rain. They lay the foundation
of their new edifice, by covering a shoot with silk,
and carefully nibbling away all the leaf-buds, so as

268 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XVI.

to prevent them from growing in the spring : they
thus secure their abode from the destruction which
would ensue from the sprouting of the branches.
They then enclose, in a double covering of silk, one
or two leaves at the end of the shoot ; these leaves
being thus brought together are worked into the
form of a vault : the nest of these caterpillars may
very commonly be observed attached to our fruit-
trees in the autumn, when the fall of the leaves dis-
closes them to view. By an inexperienced eye one
of these nests might be mistaken for the web of a
spider: indeed, when deserted by the caterpillars,
they not unfrequently become the abode of this in-
sect. These nests vary in shape ; some being round,
others flat.

They differ also in extent : in proportion also as
they become enlarged, either in length, breadth, or
capacity, a greater number of leaves, little shoots,
and even branches, are comprised within the limits
of the tent. The irregularity of their shape arises
from the additional webs which, from time to time,
it becomes necessary to form. These additional webs
divide the interior of the nest into regular compart-
ments ; each of them capable of containing a number

CH. XVT.] THE CATERPILLAR. 269

of caterpillars. If a section of these nests be exa-
mined with a microscope, the cells may be dis-
tinctly perceived ; some of them containing cater-
pillars, others excrements, and others both. The

difficulty, is to comprehend how these insects find
ingress and egress, in such an apparent labyrinth.
But in each web doors or holes may be perceived,
which, in adding new webs to old ones, they care-
fully avoid obliterating.

Into these nests, which they have been taught to
spin of a texture sufficiently strong to protect them
during the space of eight months, from the sun, the
rain, and the storms, they retire during a part of the
night, as well as during that perilous period in which
they undergo their metamorphosis. So tender are
they, that they find it necessary not only to line their
tent with the softest silk, but also to carpet with the
same material all the roads and approaches which
lead to this habitation. Having lived together till
the beginning of summer, they then separate, and
undergo their usual metamorphosis.

There is a very singular species of caterpillar
which fixes its residence on the oak. It is a stranger
to this country, although well known in France.
From six hundred to eight hundred individuals fre-
quently dwell together 4n the same nest : the exter-
nal form of these habitations presents nothing very
striking ; it resembles the large knots formed on the
tree itself. In order to accommodate this great
Z2

270

NATURAL HISTORY.

[CH. XVI

number of caterpillars, its dimensions must of course
be considerable. Some of them measure eighteen
or twenty inches in length, five or six in breadth,
and four in depth. Each is a simple pocket without
partitions; the sides being composed of several
layers of a grayish coloured silk, which assimilates
so well with the natural hue of the oak, as com-
pletely to deceive the eyes.

When the glow of day begins to soften, and the
sun is about to set, these insects quit their habita-
tion in order to proceed in search of food — the twi-
light and the night constituting the period of their
activity. Their movements are conducted with
wonderful regularity. — A single caterpillar first goes
out of the nest, and is immediately followed by
others which form a sort of procession : the leader
is succeeded by two moving abreast ; that rank by
a third, composed of three abreast ; and so on till
sometimes the last row contains twenty ranged side
by side ; the ranks are so compact, that the tail of
one row is touched by the heads of those which suc-
ceed ; and in each row the caterpillars also touch
throughout the whole length of the body. They

CH. XVI.]

THE CATERPILLAR.

271

sometimes form single files for some length ; then
double and triple ones ; each being equal in number
to the single one, as represented in the figure. The
leader of these "processionaries" does not seem
to differ from the body of its companions either in
size, shape, or colour ; nor does there seem to be a
natural leader. The first that happens to quit the
nest appears, from that circumstance alone, to be
considered as the chief; the rest follow in his train.
Where the mass is so compact, it seems indispen-
sable that the movement should be regulated with
the greatest precision ; otherwise a degree of con-
fusion would ensue which would greatly impede, if
not entirely stop, their progress. Accordingly, no-
thing can surpass the uniformity and regularity ob-
servable in their march : whatever be the route of
the leader, the others follow precisely the same steps.
If this leader should ascend to a certain height and
then descend, each rank goes to the identical spot
before it begins to descend ; if it should halt, the
progress of the rest is immediately arrested : their
march presents an instance of uniformity so com-
plete as to render it difficult at first sight to conceive
that the waving line of living creatures which is
seen to wind in a thousand figures, can possibly be
composed of so many separate individuals.
Another tribe of caterpillars, called by Reaumur

272 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. xvi.

^af-rollers, settle upon the oak : some of its leaves
may be observed rolled from the apex half-way down
towards the stalk (fig. 1) ; others from one side to-
wards another (fg* 2). Some of theso tubes are
composed of two leaves rolled tog-ether (fig> 3), while
others are constructed by bringing1 each of the edges
of the leaf towards the principle nervure (fig- 4).
The fingers of the most dexterous seamstress could
not effect with greater precision, and in a more art-
ful manner, that which these caterpillars execute
without fingers, needles, or scissors. Their inge-
nious proceedings are well worth our attention.

However flat the surface of a leaf may at first sight
appear, still on nearer inspection some portion of it
will he found more or less approaching to a curve ; as
soon as this is discovered by the caterpillar it hastens
to avail itself of this advantage, and, with great art
and dexterity, proceeds to increase the natural cur-
vature. Its head may be seen vibrating like a pen-
dulum, from the edge towards the principal nervure
of the leaf. After two or three hundred of these
movements, the part on which the insect has been
operating may be observed to be rolled up. The
mechanical means by which this effect has been
produced appears in the shape of a silken cord (fig.
5). Two or three of these cords, fixed at a mode-

rate distance from one another, will bend the leaf
considerably beyond the points to which they are
attached. Although Reaumur watched a caterpillar
while at work, and saw the leaf roll up under his
eyes, still he was unable to satisfy himself as to the
causa which brought about this effect It can

CH. XVI. J THE CATERPILLAR. 273

scarcely be attributed to the degree of contraction
produced in these little threads by the process of
drying ; for when fresh spun and moist they are so
extremely short, that such an effect could scarcely
arise from this cause.

If one of these cords be attentively examined,
instead of being made up of parallel rows of threads,
it will be found to be composed of two sets which
cross each other, or decussate. Various reasons

have been assigned for this method of proceeding ;
the following appears the most satisfactory. The
second set of threads can only be carried across the
first by the head of the insect: to effect this its
body must rest upon the first fasciculus ; and con-
sequently the leaf will be drawn forward by its
whole weight. By this means the second set of
threads alone act upon the leaf, the first set being
visibly relaxed. Each of these sets of threads is
singly equal to resist the elasticity of the curved
leaf, being indeed strong enough to bear the whole
weight of the caterpillar. De Geer, attending to
the operations of a species of this kind of caterpillar,
observed, that at each new thread it spun, the edges
of the leaf gradually approached each other, and
were bent more and more as the caterpillar spun
new threads : when the last spun thread became
tight, that which preceded it appeared loose and
floating in the air. To effect this, the caterpillar,
after it has fixed a thread to the two edges of the
leaf, and before it spins another, draws it towards
itself by the hooks of its feet, and by these means
bends the leaf: it then spins another thread, to main-

274 NATURAL HISTORY. £CH. XVI

tain the leaf in this position, which it again pulls
towards itself; and repeats the operation till it has
bent the leaf in its whole direction. It now begins
again, placing the threads farther back upon the
bent part of the leaf, and by proceeding in this
manner, rolls it up : when it has finished this busi-
ness, it strengthens the whole by fastening the ends
of the leaf together. The habitation thus formed,
is a kind of hollow cylinder, open to the light at
both ends, the sides of it affording the insect both
food and protection : for within it the creature feeds
in safety. In the same case it also undergoes its
transformation : at the approach of this change the
creature lines the rolled leaf with silk, that the
rough parts of it may not injure the tender chrysalis.

Sometimes the leaf which is to be rolled up hap-
pens to be thick and its nervures strong ; in this
case the insect eats down the prominent part of the
nervures and levels them with the surface of the
leaf; not, however, throughout the whole of their
length, but a bit here and a bit there, leaving the
intervals entire. The, parts thus attacked and con-
sumed appeared to Reaumur to correspond both in
number and situation with the points in which the
leaf was to be curved in order to begin a new turn.
The leaf of the oak being deeply notched, its in-
equalities occasionally project so much, that it is
difficult to bring them within the curve of the rest
of the leaf. A thread tied to one of these project-
ing points merely bends the edge a little, leaving the
rest nearly flat. A human mechanic would cut off
this inconvenient superfluity; the caterpillar effects
that which amounts to the same thing ; it fixes it
with a thousand threads to the side of the leaf; and
then works it with its head into a round form.

The insect proceeds in this manner to roll the leaf,
until it has encased itself in four or five folds. And
in addition to the silken bands used to secure these
folds longitudinally, a couple are tied to one or both

OH. XVI.] THE CATERPILLAR. 275

of the extremities of the cylinder ; but so arranged
as to furnish the insect with ready means both of in-
gress and egress. While this singularly constructed
mansion protects the insect from its numerous ene-
mies, it furnishes it also with food. It nibbles and
consumes successively the layers which compose
its case ; so that when the cylinder is examined,
after the lapse of a certain space of time, it will be
found at last to consist only of the outeimost roll.
Having eaten itself out of house and hold, it then
sets about constructing another dwelling.

The last of the habitations formed by the cater-
pillar differs somewhat from the first ; it is larger in
size, to accommodate the insect, now grown more
bulky. The leaf is not bent so much, and conse-
quently it does not offer the same resistance : the
insect appears aware of this fact, and contents itself
with making its cordage less strong. Instead of
bending the leaf by little cables placed at intervals,
it spins a continuous wreb, which extends the whole
length of the leaf. This web, like the cords already

described, is composed of two decussating sets of
fibres : the first set acted on by the weight of the
insect's body draws the leaf downwards ; the second
set secures in its proper place the additional curve
which has been thus gained.

Within this cylinder the caterpillar undergoes its
metamorphosis 'into a chrysalis and imago. In its
former state the skin is at first so soft that it requires
protection; and to ensure it, the inside of the cell
is lined with a slight layer of silk. When about to

276 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XVI.

assume the form of a perfect insect, it gets rid of its
chrysalid envelope by the efforts which it makes to
pass through the end of the cylinder: this being
narrower than the body of the insect, scrapes off,
and retains the skin.

The habitation of a small leaf-rolling caterpillar
is curious, from the pains taken to place it in a per
pendicular position on the leaf itself. For this pur
pose a portion of the leaf is cut off in the mannei
represented in the annexed figure. Before it cuts in

the direction of c d the leaf is bent as seen in fig. 2.
In effecting this object, the caterpillar employs the
means already described: it mounts the threads,
and contracts them by the weight of its own body.
The leaf having been thus bent is then cut in the
direction c 6, and rolled up as near the perpendicu-
lar as. possible.

There is another caterpillar whose proceedings are
somewhat similar ; it rolls up into a trumpet-shaped

CH. XVI.] THE CATERPILLAR. 277

tube the portion of the leaf contained between two
indentations. The bottom of the tube is then closed
by another piece of leaf attached to it by means of
silken cords.

Another tribe of caterpillars, equally numerous
with the leaf-rollers, may be termed leaf-benders.
Some of these give the leaf but a slight bend, while
others bend it almost thoroughly. And so admirable
is the instinct with which they are endowed, that in
feeding they consume only a portion of the leaf; the
upper membrane and the nervures are left untouched,
which secures to them both a place of shelter and a
magazine of provisions.

These caterpillars do not require to be accommo-
dated with a narrow case composed of many folds ;
they are content with one large curve, which is pro-
duced by a very curious process. The insect takes
advantage of that part of the edge of a leaf which
happens to be naturally somewhat bent : to this some
threads are attached ; the other end of these threads
is fixed near the great nervure in the centre of the
leaf; owing to the natural bend of the leaf some
vacant space is interposed between these threads
and the surface. The insect mounts upon the
threads ; its weight increases the bend ; the edge of
the leaf is brought nearer the central nervure ; and
to keep it in this position, the animal spins and ap-
plies a new set of shorter cords. As the insect does
not want a narrow case, but merely a curve which
describes the segment of a large circle, it begins

Aa

278 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XVl.

now to spin a new set of threads ; one end of these
is glued to the old web, and the other end near to or
beyond the centre of the leaf, as it may seem neces-
sary.

These two webs incline towards each other at a
certain angle. The effect upon the leaf is the same
as if the curve had been produced by threads nearly
double the length of those which compose either
web. The leaf having thus acquired a greater bend,
'uhe insect mounts at the angular junction of the two
webs, and begins to spin a third set of threads,
which, like the first, has one end attached to the in-
dentations of the leaf, while the other is fastened
near the central nervure. This is then crossed with
a fourth web formed in the manner already de-
scribed. These parts of cross webs may be seen
rising one above another, until the requisite curve
has been given to the leaf. It may be asked why
the insect does not at once spin one long thread
instead of two shorter ones crossing each other ?
Simply because it cannot : the length of the thread
is determined by the length of the animal's reach.
While engaged in fabricating these successive layers
of webs, the insect may frequently be seen de-
scending to cut the inferior threads, which, from the
greater tension of the superior one, have become
slack, and consequently useless. This operation it
performs by means of its fore-legs, using them as
we do our hands. When the insect feeds upon the
parenchyma and one membrane of the leaf, it is
extremely cautious not to touch the other mem-
brane or the nervures. By this means not only are
the materials of its covering provided, but the pro-
cess of fabricating it is greatly facilitated ; and the
tent, though considerably diminished in weight, is
not less firm, since the natural cordage (the nervures)
is left entire. The more minutely we examine the
works of nature, the more clearly shall we trace
evidence of design. Whether we contemplate the

en. xvi.J

THE CATERPILLAR.

279

measured movements of revolving1 worlds, or the
humble labours of a puny insect, we shall be forced
to recognise in them the arrangements and contri-
vances of an Omniscient mind.

Some species of caterpillars simply tie several
leaves together with silken threads, and thus form
a hollow tube in which they lodge and feed. They
carefully destroy the bud at the extremity of the
shoot, lest its sprouting should tear asunder their
silken bands.

The number of caterpillars which enclose them-
selves by the process of rolling, bending, or tying
leaves together is very great ; nor is this habit con-
fined to one class. Spiders, beetles, and various
other insects, proceed under the impulse of the same
instinct. The description which has been already
given of the habits of one class will equally apply
to the proceedings of all the other tribes.

Some caterpillars, not possessing the art of those
which have been already noticed, content themselves
with the shelter which they procure by eating away
the pulpy substance contained between the upper
and under surfaces of the leaf. They are so small,
that even the thinnest leaf is capable of furnishing
them with an ample lodging. If several leaves be

1 . The habitation of miners of galleries.

3 The habitation of those which mine first a gallery then an area.

280 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. xvi.

examined, whitish spots or streaks may be observed
on their green surface : these mark the paths and
progress of the insects which mine them. Some
caterpillars form galleries only, some only areas ;
while a third tribe, after having made a gallery, mine
an area at the end of it.

Each of these galleries or areas is generally oc-
cupied by a single insect ; and when there happens
to be more than one tenant, no inconvenience arises
from the circumstance ; for the comparative size of
the leaf is so great as to furnish an ample territory
for the accommodation of a number of these diminu-
tive inhabitants. In some cases, many of these in-
sects, having arrived at a certain size, may be seen
under the same tent, and associating together in the
most peaceable and harmonious manner; while
others, to the number of twenty or thirty, herd to-
gether from the moment in which they are first
evolved from the egg, and unite their efforts in ex-
cavating a common covering for the whole commu-
nity. That beneficent Power which has given ex-
istence and life to this minute atom, has at the same
time made an ample provision for all its wants by
conferring upon it an instinct which operates as
surely and as unerringly as the most obvious of
nature's laws. This instinct teaches the perfect
insect that one leaf is incapable of furnishing nou-
rishment to all her young: hence the provident
mother never deposites upon the same leaf a greater
number of eggs than the number of caterpillars
which its pulpy substance will be found capable of
sustaining. Having thus placed an adequate number
of eggs on one leaf, the insect proceeds to 'another,
and then to a third, until her whole stock has been
laid.

The larva, having been evolved from the egg, im-
mediately begins to mine ; and the spot at which it
commenced its operations may readily be known ;
and by holding up the leaf between the eye and the

CII. XVI.] THE CATERPILLAR. 281

light, the exact situation of the insect may also be
discovered. The narrowest part of the gallery is
that through which it has been entered ; the insect
as it proceeds grows in size ; it requires more food
as well as more space : hence its mine becomes
gradually wider ; the head of the creature will there-
fore be found towards the widest part, and the tail
towards the narrowest end of the streak. The in-
struments which these insects use in mining are then

The commencement of the gallery is under the stalk of the leaf; the
galleiy is seen gradually to widen, and at the farthest and widest
part the insect is lodged.

teeth ; some of them are provided with a beak which
they employ like a pickaxe. The central hook is
fixed in the leaf as a fulcrum, and is bent and moved
about in various directions.

Many of these miners are incapable of conducting
their operations, except in their native gallery ; when
removed to another leaf their instinct seems to for-
sake them: they appear unable to begin another
mine, and consequently perish. Others, however,
endowed with different instincts, have been known
to change the leaf on which they feed whenever the
Aa2

282 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XVI.

supply of nourishment originally provided for them
begins to fail.

When about to undergo their metamorphosis, some
of these insects quit their habitations, while others
continue in them. The latter class adopt a precau-
tion which well deserves attention; the range of the
gallery which they have mined is not equidistant
from the upper and lower membranes of the leaf,
being much nearer the former ; hence, the caterpillar
cannot be seen through the under surface of the leaf,
because a considerable portion of the parenchyma,
or pulpy matter, remains unconsumed between the
floor of the gallery and the inferior membrane of
the leaf. On the upper surface, however, the cater-
pillar eats away all the parenchyma ; so that on that
side the epidermis alone forms a thin and vaulted
roof, through which the insect may be readily seen.
But when about to assume the defenceless state of
a chrysalis, its instinct impels it to seek a place of
greater security: with this view it dives from its
gallery, making its may directly downwards until it
reaches the lower surface of the leaf, where it dis-
tends a portion of the parenchyma, which was left
uneaten arid interposed between the lower epidermis
and the gallery of the insect : at this period it would,
therefore, be vain to look for the insect in its usual
gallery, near the upper skin of the leaf, and it might
be concluded that the little inhabitant had entirely
forsaken its original abode ; but on turning up the
leaf, a small and rounded protuberance may be per-
ceived, under which the creature has been instinct-
ively taught to shelter itself, during its torpid state,
from its natural enemies.

Many of these mining caterpillars turn into moths,
which, had they been as large as they are beautiful,
would have presented an appearance marvellously
brilliant. Assisted by a magnifier, the eye may per-
ceive the little creature radiant with shining gold,
its wings streaked here and there with silver of daz-

THE CATERPILLAR

283

CH. XVI.]

zling white, and dotted with jetty spots so placed as
to heighten the whole effect.

There is a tribe of caterpillars which, from their
regular and measured method of moving, have been
called " Surveyors." They first fix the head and
bring the tail close to it, the intervening body being
bent into an arch ; the head is then stretched out
again and fixed in another place. By this means
each progressive movement is rendered of equal
length, and hence the name which has been bestowed
upon them. Many of these possess the curious
faculty of remaining stiffly in the same position, and
jutting out into the air, so that not only their natural
enemies, the birds, but even man, have mistaken
them for twigs of the shrubs on which they happen
to be placed.

Rosel's gardener, having taken up what he thought
a piece of wood, dropped it with horror, when he
perceived that it began to writhe between his fingers.

284 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XVI.

Other caterpillars place themselves in attitudes
which present a very formidable appearance, and
although perfectly harmless, make a very disgreeable
impression upon the mind. The caterpillar of a
hawk-moth, when in a state of repose, assumes the
position of the sculptured sphinx.

Most of the surveyors possess a contrivance for
transporting- themselves from one place to another,
which must not be overlooked : wherever they ad-
vance, they fix a silken cord ; hence their track is
constantly marked by a line of silk. The use of
this provision becomes immediately apparent when-
ever the leaf or twig on which they are found hap-
pens to be shaken. The creature drops from its
place, and would fall quite to the ground, if it did
not possess the means of suspending- itself; but it
is furnished with spinners, which secrete silken
matter, and it possesses also the faculty of giving
out as much of this substance as may be required
for its purposes ; it seems to have a sphincter for
this especial object. By means of a silken appara-
tus thus prepared, it is enabled at any time to descend
from the top of a high tree, and mount again, without
undergoing the fatigue of climbing up the twisted
branches; the descent is regulated by the wishes
and purposes of the insect, rapid or slow as may be
required ; and if necessary, its descent may be in-
stantly arrested, and the animal may remain for any
length of time suspended in mid-air. The two an-
nexed figures will explain the mechanism of these
proceedings. In the first, the creature is seen sus-
pended by its thread; in the second, it is represented
in the act of mounting: for the latter pinpose, it
seizes the silken cord between its two teeth, and
curving up that portion of its body, in which its six
true legs are situated, it lays hold of the cord with
the last two pair ; this secures to it another fixed
point ; it th^n lifts up its head a second time, lays
hold of an additional piece of the silk ; and by a

CH. XVII.*! CHRYSALIS. 285

repetition of its former action it gradually ascends
to the point which it wishes to reach ; when safely
landed, it disembarrasses itself of the silk which
nad been collected between its legs.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHRYSALIS, OR AURELIA.

Caterpillar when about to change into a Chrysalis fastens itself to a
Leaf or Stem— Spins a little Web— Gets rid of its old Cage—Sus-
pends itself by a Girth or Band formed of Silk.

THE insect, having lived its appointed time in the
caterpillar state, and incapable of perpetuating its
species, prepares for those wonderful changes of
form and functions which are destined to end in the
production of a creature perfect in its kind. If a
imman being, surrounded by enemies eager to injure
or destroy him, felt that he should fall into a state

286 NATURAL HISTORY. fcH. XVII.

which would incapacitate him either to flee or de-
fend himself from his foes, he would naturally en-
deavour to mid some secluded spot into which he
might retire in the hour of peril. The larvae of in-
sects when preparing for their first metamorphosis
seem to act upon a similar principle : they appear
to be aware of their defenceless condition ; and that
Being who gave them life has instructed them in the
best means of preserving this precious gift. Some
have been taught to weave for themselves a silken
case ; others, ignorant of this art, secrete themselves
under ground, and in the kindly shelter of their
earthy tomb find that security and rest which are
denied them elsewhere. Others seek some solitary
spot far removed from their ordinary haunts, and
there suspend themselves beyond the reach of their
natural enemies.

The positions in which they place themselves are
extremely various : in one species the suspension is
vertical ; in another the head is higher than the tail ;
in a third the body is placed in a horizontal position.
Some fix themselves by the tail only, with the head
hanging down ; others pass a girdle of silk around
their bodies, and are thus suspended in a sort of
hammock ; while others appear simply glued to the
wood or stone to which they are attached.

When the moment of change approaches, the
caterpillar fixes upon some part of a leaf or stem,
where it spins a little web; it first lines a small
space to which it attaches additional threads, so as
to make a little cone, or rather button, projecting
downwards : this being finished, it fixes itself to the
end of the cone by means of hooks with which its
two last feet are furnished; and in order that its
hold may be made firm, a part of the body, impelled
by alternate elongations and contractions, is well
driven into the meshes of the cone. This being
effected, the head of the insect is then permitted to
hang downwards. Shortly afterward, however, it is
seen to quit this vertical posture, and to curve its

CH. XVII.] CHRYSALIS. 287

back by elevating- the head ; and in this position it
will remain for more than half an hour. This
movement is frequently repeated ; and at each suc-
ceeding repetition of it, the body of the caterpillar
acquires a greater degree of convexity. A strain is
thus occasioned in the skin of the back, which soon
produces a rent in that part. This process — a work
of at least twenty- four hours and great labour —

causes the skin to break at last, and a portion of the
chrysalis becomes visible through the rent. White
confined by the skin of the caterpillar, the chrysalis
is long and narrow ; but as soon as a fissure has
been made in this outward covering, it begins to
contract, and its anterior portion swells out so much,
that the rent is thereby rapidly enlarged. As soon
as the fissure has been rendered sufficiently large to
permit a portion of the chrysalis to protrude, the
mode of action is changed. By various contortions
and movements of the body, the skin is ttirust to-
wards the tail, much in the same manner as we push
down a stocking towards the foot. The length of
the skin becomes thus compressed 'nto a multitude
of folds.

288 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XVH.

But the most singular part of the operation re-
mains to be described. The caterpillar was sus-
pended to the silken cone by legs and hooks attached
to its own skin ; that skin, however, with its append-

ant legs and hooks, the chrysalis must cast off;
but, although destitute of limbs or hooks, it yet
contrives to fix itself on the same cone to which
the caterpillar was attached. When the skin has
been well thrust down, the insect seizes some part
of it in one of the indentations between two of the
rings of its body: this secures a resting-place,
which enables it to withdraw its tail altogether from
the old skin.

Wholly freed from its former covering, the chry-
salis is now attached to a frail and withered slough,
and suspended in mid-air in a situation of great peril.
It becomes now indispensable that it should fix itself
to the silken cone. But to a creature hanging with
its head downwards, and destitute of limbs, this
would seem a hopeless undertaking. Destitute and
helpless, however, as its condition appears, nature
has not left it without adequate resources. It elon-
gates that part of the body which is above the rings,
by which it holds on, and seizes by the interval be-
tween two rings still higher than those, another
part of its caterpillar skin. Having in this manner
advanced by three or four steps to the required
height, it feels about with its tail for the silken cone.
Having at last found this cone, it fixes itself to it

CH. XVII.] CHRYSALIS. 289

by means of hooks with which that part of its body
is furnished.

To withdraw the tail from the withered case ; to
climb up that case, and hook its body to the silken
cone, is an operation so delicate and hazardous as
to excite the greatest wonder, that an insect which
executes it only once during the whole term of its
existence, should be found capable of executing it
so well. " Assuredly," says Reaumur, " it must
have been taught to perform its task by some great
master."

But the chrysalis does not seem to be content with
merely withdrawing itself from its ancient hide : it
will not suffer it to remain suspended in its own
neighbourhood. In order to rid itself of the annoy-
ance of the offensive slough, it bends a section of
the lower part of its body into the form of the letter
S, and then gives the whole a jerk, which causes

both its o\vn body and the attached slough to spin
round eighteen or twenty times on their axis. As
the slough and chrysalis must necessarily go round
together, and as the slough is farther than the chry-
salis from the centre of gyration, it is evident that
the attaching hooks and threads of the slough must
suffer a greater strain than those of the chrysalis :
consequently the former give way first. This is no
sooner perceived by the chrysalis, than it resumes
Bb

290 NATURAL HISTORY. [cH. XVII.

its vertical position, and allows the skin to drop. If
the first series of pirouettes prove unsuccessful, the
chrysalis tries another in the contrary direction;
and if after repeated efforts it fails to get rid of the
nuisance, it calmly and patiently submits to an evil
which it cannot remove.

This vertical position does not however suit all
caterpillars ; there are some which fix themselves
in an inclined or even horizontal position. To effect
this, a set of threads is passed round their bodies,
and then attached to the wall or a part of some
plant from which they remain suspended.

These girths or supporting belts are formed in
various ways, but always of the same material, — silk
spun for that purpose by the caterpillars. The fol-
lowing figures will explain some of those processes
by which the suspension is effected. In the first

figure (Jig. 1), the caterpillar is seen to bend its
body to the point where the end of the thread is to
be fixed : in the second (fig. 2), it presents itself
in the act of carrying over the body, by doubling it-
self on its back : while in the third (fig. 3), it ap-
pears to turn round for the purpose of fixing it on
the farther side. When a sufficient number of
threads have been thus spun to form its web, the
insect gently withdraws its head, assumes a straight
position, and quietly awaits the hour of its trans-
formation.

The girth which is passed round the body of the
caterpillar in order to suspend it when it shall have
assumed the chrysalid form, is fabricated sometimes

CH. XVII. J CHRYSALIS. 291

in the mode represented in the annexed figures. On
one side of a stalk or leaf, it glues some of the viscid

matter secreted by its spinner; it then gradually
brings its head into a position which enables it to
pass the silken cord from a to 6 where it is sup-
ported by one of its legs ; introducing the two other
legs of that side under the rest ; the insect then
carries it from b to c : it is then continued from c to
d, which completes the loop, or half circle. When
a sufficient number of threads has been thus passed
from a to t/, the loop has acquired a requisite strength :
— the insect then holds it up with its two fore legs :
bending its head between these legs, it passes the
loop over its back ; and by the action of the rings,
it gradually brings it to that part of the body whrA
is best calculated to balance the chrysalis.

In spite, however, of all the care which the ir.sect
takes to sustain the loop, it occasionally hpppens
that the threads slip off its legs and fall. This is a
woful calamity to the unhappy caterpillar. It does
its best to repair the damage ; with marvellous pa-
tience it endeavours to collect the scattered fila-
ments, and secure them once more between its legs.
One unlucky insect was seen by Reaumur, trying
every contortion of limb to effect this purpose, but
all in vain. After all its exertion, it only succeeded
in gathering about half the number of threads which
had formed the cord, the rest having become hope-
lessly entangled ; and being either unwilling or un-
able to spin an additional supply, it suspended itself
by this imperfect girdJe. As it might have been aru

292 NATURAL HISTORY. [CH. XVII.

ticipated, the suspending1 girdle proving too weak to
sustain the motions of the chrysalis, gave way, and
the miserable insect consequently fell to the ground
and perished.

If we open one of these chrysalis or aurelias,
from which a brilliant butterfly will emerge at the
proper season, all we shall be able to discover, es-
pecially at first, is a mass of pap or soft substance
apparently putrefied, in which every thing seems
confounded ; but this soft mass, however confused
it may appear to the eye, contains the elements of
the future insect. Under the action of heat, the
superfluous portion of the nutrimental substances
gradually transpires through the film which encloses
them; the external film itself becomes by degrees
tinctured by a most beautiful vermilion, and the limbs
and features, which at first lay concealed in the
mass, begin to disengage themselves from the case
which contained them, and which now bursts open:
then it is that the head unfolds itself to our view,
the horns and legs lengthen, the wings expand ; and
at last the butterfly, retaining no trace or resem-
blance of its former condition, wings its flight
through the air. The caterpillar, which is changed
into a nymph or chrysalis, and the butterfly that
proceeds from it, are two animals essentially differ-
ent in form, as well as in manners and habits. The
first being altogether terrestrial, crawled slowly and
heavily along the ground; the second is agility it-
self, and so far from limiting its motions to the earth,
it appears to disdain reposing on its lap. The first,
all shaggy, frequently presented a hideous aspect ;
the other is arrayed in colours glowing with the
most brilliant and beautiful tints. The first fed
upon the coarsest and grossest food; the latter
ranges from flower to flower, regales itself with
honey and dew, and perpetually varies its enjoy-
ments.

END OF THE FIRST SERIES.

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