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Copyright

TENANTS
OF AN OLD FARM:

LEAVES FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF
A. NATURALIST.

Pale NRY CHRISTOPHER McCOOK,

Dp Sein. LieD:

WITEH- AN. INTRODUCTION BY

LORD AVEBURY (Sir JOHN LUBBOCK).

ILLUSTRATED FROM NATURE,

REVISED EDITION—TENTH THOUSAND. ~

PHILADELPHIA:
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.

LONDON: HoppER & STOUGHTON,

ALAC
-M \4-

THE LIBRARY OF
CONGRESS,

Two Copies Received

DEC 29 1902

Copyright Entry

Ate. / 3-190
CLASS Q XXe. Ne,

Ye1 4a Ss
COPY B.

COPYRIGHT, 1884, 1902,

By HENRY C. McCOOK.

Published December, 1902.

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To TEs, AReony Of
MY MOTHER,
CATHARINE JULIA SHELDON McCOOK,

WHOSE ENERGY, INTELLIGENCE,
AND DELICATE CULTURE, Lorry CHARACTER,
EXALTEC AIMS AND MATERNAL DEVOTION,

ADDED HONOR TO WOMANHOOD,

AND GAVE HER MoTHERHOOD AN IMPERISHABLE INFLUENCE
AND CHARM,
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
In GRATEFUL AND Lovinc HomaGE
BY THE AUTHOR.

LORD AVEBURY'S INTRODUCTION
TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.

My friend Dr. McCook, already well known
to naturalists for his “ Natural History of the
Agricultural Ants of Texas,” and his work on.
“The Honey and Occident Ants,” has recently
published a volume of Natural History in a
more popular form, which is about to appear
in an English edition, and is anxious, though
I should hardly have thought it necessary, for
a few lines of introduction to English readers.

The President of the Linnzean Society * has
done me the honour of asking me to perform
this pleasant task. He might well have done
so himself, but devolved it on me, because in
“Tenants of an Old Farm” Dr. McCook deals
with friends of mine,—with insects, and par-
ticularly ants, to which I have paid special
attention. I have much pleasure in _ bearing
testimony to the fidelity and skill which Dr.
McCook has devoted to the study of these
interesting atoms; and those who read _ his

* W. Carruthers, Esq., F.R.S., Keeper of the
Botanical Department at the British Museum.

vi PREFACE TO ENGLISH EDITION.

work may safely depend on the accuracy of
what he says. I confess that, like Dr. McCook
himself, I am one of those who think “that
the truths of Nature are attractive enough in
themselves, and need not the seasoning of
liction, even of so mild a flavour as offered by
the ‘Tenants.’” But both he and I are
perhaps too much devoted to Natural History
to be able to judge for others on this point.
Moreover, as regards the attractive manner
in which the book is written, English readers
have much more conclusive testimony than
any single opinion—and especially one which
might be biassed by friendship, for they have
the evidence of the wide popularity which the

work has already attained in America. The

title seems to me very happily chosen. It
reminds us that we are not the only tenants
of our farms—that the fields and hedges,
woods and waters, all around us, teem with
a complex, rich, and interesting life. But
nature will speak only to those who listen
with love and sympathy; and of this varied
existence Dr. McCook has proved himself one
of the most patient and loving students.

Ait. cubbod

AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION.

THE purpose of this book is to present a series of
exact truths from Natural History in a popular form.

The author firmly believes that study of the struc-
ture, conditions and behavior of all created things .
highty tends to elevate human character. Under such
conviction he consented to write a number of essays
upon insect life with a particular view to his own
specialties—ants and spiders. It was agreed that these
essays should express the latest and best results of
scientific research, and thus have a-real scientific
value and standing. As to form, the papers were to
be adapted to the taste and understanding of lay or
non-scientific readers,

This original plan was afterward so far changed,
under the persuasion of friends, as to give the essays
a colloquial form, introducing thereinto something of
that interest which attaches to the play of various
_ human characters.

The author is free to confess that the change was
made after much hesitation on his part. Like most
naturalists, he thinks that the truths of Nature are —
attractive enough in themselves and need not the
seasoning of fiction, even of so mild a flavor as offered
by the ‘‘'Tenants.”? Moreover, he seriously distrusted

(vil)

viii PREFACE. ..

his ability to cast the natural facts at his command. into
any narrative form that would reasonably satisfy the
just demands of literature. Nevertheless, as those
whose judgment he most trusted believed that such
a form would give his studies a wider circulation,
«a kindlier welcome, and so a larger influence, he ven-
tured upon the proposed change. 7

Whatever may be the verdict on the above point pro-
nounced by those who may read these pages, this at
least should be said: the facts in Natural History here
presented may be accepted as correct, or as nearly so
as is allowed one who works in sucha field. Most of
the facts given have come under the writer’s own ob-
servation. Where he has gone to other naturalists for
information he has used the utmost care to be accurate.
These remarks apply also to the popular superstitions
concerning insects for whose expression “‘ old Dan” and
‘‘Sary Ann”’ have been invented, Indeed Dan is not
so much an invention as an adaptation of a real char-
acter |

The plan as originally proposed included references
to all works consulted, and credit to every author cited.
It is a cause of serious regret that this feature had to
be dropped as ‘obviously out of place in a scientific
pastoral like the ‘* Tenants,’’ however proper in a series
of scientific essays. All the heartier, therefore, are the
thanks here rendered to the earnest, loving and labor-
ious naturalists who haye .contributed by writings and
word of mouth to these pages.

It only remains to be said that the numerous illustra-

PREFACE. i ix
tions (with a single exception) have been prepared
expressly for this work, and (with very few exceptions)
have been drawn from nature or after the author’s
sketches from nature. They are not only original—
many of them presenting subjects in natural history
that have never before been illustrated—but are cor-
rect, and, for the most part, artistic, although scientific
verity has been the chief aim. To Mr, Edward Shep-
pard and Mr. Frank Stout, who made the larger part
of the natural history drawings, especial recognition is
due. The admirable comical adaptations of Mr. Dan
Beard are, of course, sui generis, and are not without
real value in illustrating the text which they brighten
with the play of mirth. The absence of his skillful
hand from the closing chapters is owing to an accident
which threatened the loss of his eyesight, a calamity
that happily has been averted. }

In the belief that this book contains enough original
observations to make it valuable to working naturalists,
an index of the scientific matter has been prepared.

PHILADELPHIA, September, 1884,

bes

PREFACE TO REVISED EDITION.

In the eighteen years that have passed since this
book was printed there have been many changes in
the scientific nomenclature of plants and animals. In-
ereased knowledge has required the shifting of genera
and species, and the rearrangement of names. Insects
and spiders have shared this wide and general change ;
and, accordingly, ‘‘The Tenants” has needed revision.
I have, therefore, gone over the pages for the tenth
edition in order to bring them up to the present con-
dition of science. In this work I have been kindly
aided by some of my entomological friends whose
specialties cover orders of which I have no special
knowledge. Professor Henry Skinner, M. D., has
gone over the Lepidoptera; Mr. Ezra 'T. Cresson and
Mr. Wm. J. Fox, the Hymenoptera; and Mr. J. A. G.
Rehn, the Orthoptera.

I have had many testimonies to the influence of this
book in winning both youth and adults to love and
study Nature and our “little brothers” of the insect
world. In some cases a permanent bent has been
given which led to a career as professional naturalists
and teachers of natural history. In giving the Revised
Hdition to the press I indulge the hope that the vol-
ume may continue its helpfulness and fulfil its mission
more perfectly.

its Henry C. McCook.
THE Manse, PHILADELPHIA,
October fA Deo?!
(x)

CONTENTS.

CHAPTERS.
I. TRANSFORMED AND TRANSFERRED :
I]. RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCE . :
Ill. THz TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER .
IV. WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES .
V. Motus AT THE FIRESIDE . : :
VI. PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA—A CHRONI-
CLE OF “‘Oup CLO’S’’ AND WINDFALLS .
VII. MEASURE FOR MEASURE . : : :
VIII. Insect TROGLODYTES . 3 3 : P
IX. CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS . Stan :
X. THE History oF A HUMBLE-BEE : z
XI. INsect ENGINEERING—BRIDGE - BUILDING
AND BALLOONING SPIDERS : P ‘
XII. ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. , ;
XIII. A Barrie, a Conqurst, AND a NIGHT-
Rarip—Tukr CuttTinc-ANT OF TEXAS
XIV. A Tour THrRovucH a Trxas ANT-HILL .
XV. THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. : :
XVI. Mustc-Maxtne INsEcTsS ‘ ; :

XVII. ‘“‘SeERMONS IN ’’—ANTS : ?

XVIII. SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND .
XIX. HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET . :
XX. SARTOR INSECTORUM . : : : °
XXII. NatTure’s First PArPER-MAKERS :

OME: New TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS ; ‘

(xi)

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Frontispiece

ie

MH

“tO Ol Re & WW

Argiope and Snare
Studying Argiope’s Snare
Cocoon of Argiope aurantia .

. A Brood of Spideriings on their First Ouene
. Spiders at Cape May

“ Collecting a Creu zr

. “ Scalpage ”

Snare and Eggy-sacs to Cy ees
Cyclosa’s Cocoons. with Scalpage
Egg-sac of Silvery Argiope

. Snare of Argiope argyraspis
2. Decoration of Argiope’s Snare

13a Polyphemus Moth (Female)
13b Larva of Polyphemus Moth
13¢e Cocoon of Polyphemus Moth

14.
5. Pupa ef Polyphemus

W WO W WC
tm CO 0

—~}

WW WOW W WO
co ©

co W
WO - =>

oo
Oo

On

or)

Dame Nature Strips Young Polyphemus tte Beat

Cecropia Moth (Samia cecropia)

. Pupa of Butterfly Vanessa
. Cluster of Cynthia Cocoons
. The Sparrows’ Sparring Match

The Rape of the Yarns

- Cocoon of Cecropia Moth

. Cecropia Cocoon Partly Dissected

. Potato-worm, Larva of Phlegethontius quuineterinen ame
. Pupa of Potato-moth

Phlegethontius quinque-maculata
Riddle of the Sphinx

. The Shadow of a Moth

3. Death’s Head Moth and Larva

. The Mistress’s Contribution

_ A Case of ‘ Old Clo’s’’ and Charity

. Burrow of Apple-worm

2. Cocoon, Pupa, Female and ais af ie Coding

Moth, and a Parasitic _ Ichneumon Fly

. A Mothical Version of Tell and the Apple.

(xii)

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

34. The Geometrid Horror . :

35. Tussock Moth, Notolophus (chet ne: Male, Horas
and Larva A F : - E

36. Cocoon of Tueeoele Moth , ; : :

37. Our Imported Protectors . ° ° . . “

38. A Mother Moth . e 4 : 5 5 -

39. A Geometrid Turnverein : : . : F 4

40. Orchard Moth

. The Clothes Barker’s Paradize : 5 ~ F
. Ancient Cave-dwellers

. Cave-dwellers, Ancient and Modern : 5
. Turret Spider’s Nest and Tower Ree ren
. Cotton-lined Nest of Turret Spider

. A Mother Spider and her Brood
. ‘*She had so many children, she didn’t Shore w hat ae

do ?

. Seaside mesidence of TMnnret Spider
. Entrance to the Humble Bees’ Cave

. The Mole Cricket—its Cave and Eggs
. Queen, Male, Workers Minor and Major of ielnerni le
Bee (Bombus Virginicus)

. Wild Aborigines Exterminated by the Entic amet u

the Jug . :

. Cave and Cell-nest of Hutible: Bees

. The Dude of the Beehive—Poor Drone !

. Humble-Bee Upholstery-Worker Burrowing for Root:

lets, and Queen Covering her Nest

: Mattress- making! Tuckine up the Tufts of ys
holstery ”’ : : R

. Apiarian Enemies amet Friends 5 5 5 :

. Curtain of Wax-workers : ‘ ‘ :

. Face of Humble-Bee—Showing Tone ue : 5 =

. Mrs. Bumble Fills the Honey Jars

. The Basket Bee . Ps

. Hind Leg of a Workirg Humble Bee, to Rae the
Basket : :

. The Basket- pardoned Ree comes Fiona 4

. A Spider’s Suspension Bridge 3 : 5

. Kiting the Cataract . : :

. Ballooning or Flying Spiders ‘ .

. Ballooning Spider Preparing to Ascend :

. The Original Brookline Bridge—‘‘ Engineer crs

Winaaee the First Crossing . -

. Silken Bridge Built by Baby Spiders
. Water Spiders and their Egg-Sac Caisson

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

. Putting Spokes to the Wheel 5 A « hee ane
2. The First Radii. 5 . ° ‘ . :
. Alternate Apposition . 5 - :
. Spiral Foundations—Putting in the spuaie A

5. Arachne’s Pearls-—Viscid Beads :

. Preceptor to His Majesty : >: Robert Brace and the

Spider .

. ** Nobody in, Sir, Base Onl > 4
. Winged menial Male, Soldier and Worker-Major of

Cutting-Ant (Atta vues) : ; : 5

. Mound-Nest of Cutting-Ant ! Z :
. Procession of Parasol or Cutting-Ants . 3 ; °
. The Parasol Ant—An Emmet Robinson Crusoe .

. Defoliated Twig of Pride-of-China-Tree

33. Ant Making a Cutting from a Live Oak Leaf

. Head of a Cutting Ant. A

. Ants Bewitching Cows.

. Knights of Myrmecology Storming thie ive Hill

. View of Trench Exposing the Interior of Cutting-Ant

Hill

. Cave of the Gittins Ant, Showing the leat! Combs
. Pride-of-China-Tree Stripped of Leaves on One Side

by Cutting-Ant . : .
90. An Underground Route of Cutting Ants ° :
91. The Gate Glosed ‘ , : ; ;
92. The Gate Open. 5 - 4
93. Preparing to Close the Nest
94. An Emmet ‘‘ Dumping ”’—A Mason Squad at Wore
95. A Patent Ant Exterminator . . 5 ; - :
96. The Cricket on the Hearth . A - ° ‘
97. White Crickets, Male and Female ° . °
98. Black Crickets (Gryllus Pennsylvanicus)
99. The White Cricket’s Serenade
100. Dan’s Ideal Cricket on the eiaib Semalh Blows the
Conech-shell for Dinner .
101. Katydids, Male and Female. :
102. Cicada, Female and Male; Locust Dearactiode Ca pala
103. The Music of BoynocdaaAl Reminiscence

104.
105.
106.
LO7.

108.
109.
110.

The Blue Church . : 5 : :
The Grasshopper’s Dirge

Agricultural Ants Eneaged in Cutting Grass
Front Yard Roads of Ants’ Nests

Ant Clearing in a Weed Forest ;
Undergrade Ant-road in Fairmount Park
Granaries, Showing Seeds and Stores, : :

‘

dit:
112.
113.
114.
4a 5.
116.
Tay
118.
119.
120.
121.
122.
123.
124,
125:
126.

127.
128.
129.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Mound-nest of Occident-Ant Nt any aaa .

Interior Plan of Storerooms and Galleries . : :

Open Granary of Harvesting-Ant : :

Occident-Ant Gathering Sunfiower Seed

Granaries of the Pennsylvania Harvester .

Egg-nests of Mother Cicada . .

A Leap for Life—the Cicada Underground :

Fleeing from the Flood—Cicada Towers : -

Out of the Shell at Last : . 5 :

Basket on Pine :

Basket-worm Drawn Uy. to need or nin :

Prospecting Bag-worm . . . ° >

Feeding or Pine - Sa aliks —

Cutting a Twig of enon Vite

How the Bag-worms Walk and Climb .

Sewed Leaf-nest of the Spectacle Spider | (hipeina con-
spicellata)

Leaf-nest of the Shami ge Spider (Epeira tr rigolinm)

Nest of Leaf-cutting Bee

Rolled Leaf-nest of Tortricid Moth . -

130-131. Work of Leaf-rolling Moth

1382.
133.

Nest of Leaf-rolling Caterpillar
Showing How the Leaf is Curled -

134-135. Female and Male of the Tent-caterpillar Moth

136.
137.

138.
139.
140.

Nest of the Tent-caterpillar Moth

Nest of the Ringed or Rust-red Wasp (Polistes annu-
laris) .

Nest of American Howmet (Ve espa raneulaee °

Interior of Hornet’s Nest, Showing the Combs . :

Wasp’s Nest with Tubular Entrance - «+ «

XV

344
346
346
D47
348
DoT
363
368

71
385
386
387
389
393
395

403
405
409
413
416
417
417
421
423

430
435
439
445

CHAPTER I.
TRANSFORMED AND TRANSFERRED.

AT last the old farm-house at Highwood had a tenant.
For years it had stood vacant, thanks to the conserv-
ative spirit of the owner, a wealthy rural manufac-
turer, who refused to lease it save on condition that all
its antique style and fixtures should be maintained.
Thanks, also, to the luxurious notions of American
housekeepers, no acceptable tenant had yet been found
willing to submit to the conditions.

With that steadiness which marks the return of un-
inhabited places to a state of nature, the house and its
surroundings had fallen into decay. The premises were
in sad contrast with the thrifty appearance of the place
in the day of good Farmer Townes, who had lived in it
from his infancy until death. Thus by a kind destiny
Highwood was reserved for us. Very cheerfully we

covenanted well and truly to preserve to the place all

its primitive features. The ancestral shrines of the
Lares and Penates of the old Quaker farmer and his

Quaker forefathers should not be disturbed by the in-
;

10 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

vading family of ‘‘ world’s people.’? On the other hand,
the proprietor, heart-sore over the advancing decay of
his property, willing to serve a friend, and, at the same
time seat him in his own near neighborhood, under-
took to introduce enough modern improvements to
bring into Highwood a reign of comfort and heaith.
Therefore, we signed the ‘ease and became the Tenants
of the Old Farm.

On the first day of October we took possession. A
bright, warm morning, well worthy to open the door of
that month whose varied beauties and rich vitality
make it the halcyon season of our American year.
‘Old Dan,” a colored laborer, met us at the road-side
gate with pleasant smile, polite bow, and a hearty
‘“ Welcome to Highwood!’ The broad lane through
which we drove was skirted on either side by a row of
trees—on this side locusts, a favorite wood with our
fathers ; on the other, cherries, a canny or benevolent
mingling of the useful and ornamental, for which the
country-side boys had inwardly blessed the memory of
Friend Townes.

Hugh Bond met us at the yard-gate. ‘° Our farmer ”’
we called him ; our man-of-all-work he was, in fact, to
be. He greeted us with a quiet ‘* Good morning,’’ be-
coming equally an independent freeman and an honest
employé, and proceeded with much satisfaction to show

COs

us the ‘‘ improvements ”’ that had been wrought. They
were visible enough to our eyes, but why should we
recite them here? Suffice it to say the old trees near

the front had been spared, but trimmed high up to

~

TRANSFORMED AND TRANSFERRED. 11

admit the sunlight to the chill stone walls; a new porch
guarded the threshold, instead of its tumble-down pre-
decessor ; inside, the wainscoting had been repaired,
walls neatly papered, and, finally, modern grates filled
most of the wide chimney-places, a concession to the
scarcity of wood and the abundance of coal. With
warm carpets under foot, the household furniture in
place, the pretty curtains at the square, small-paned
windows, and the general air of coziness and home that
filled all the house, like the odor of Mary’s ointment, it
was indeed a transformation. What eye could have
seen through and beyond all the cheerlessness, disorder
and dirt of the miserable farm-house that I looked at a
month ago, the possibilities of so bright a home ?
Whose heart had the cunning to devise, whose hands
the deftness to bring about this change ?—whose but
the dear housewife’s, who beamed amidst it all with a
face from which, for the hour. happiness and content
had driven the anxiety that had stopped thereon too
often during the last year? Yes, the magic wand that
had summoned back the exiled fairies of home was the
touch of the New Mistress of the Old Farm.

‘‘ A year of retirement and rest will restore his vigor
and save him for the future.”’

That was the ultimatum of Doctor Hayes. Promptly
the mistress assented. The master yielded to the

inevitable only after a long, hard struggle. Do you

wonder? An active life planted in a great city and
come to the meridian of manhood, has many and
strong roots. They rundeep, they branch widely, they

12 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

clasp and entwine tightly a multitude of persons, ob-
jects, causes, plans. It is no light work to tear them
up on sudden notice and transplant them to a rural
home. But we have paid this penalty 10 over-work.
and now for a year shall try the virtues of ‘‘ vegetat-
ing.’’ To work in the field or sleep in the house ; to sit
or walk or ride or recline ; to keep the mind pleasantly
occupied and the body in the open air; to drift on easily

with time and chance, and to—wait! Such is the life
which the Doctor bids me live. Well, a worse prescrip-
tion perhaps might have been prepared. I shall take
my medicine honestly, for, in sooth, one cannot—as
with other doctors’ nostrums that I wot of—throw this

remedy out of the window.

*

CHAPTER II.
RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

‘““WE are not the only tenants of this Old Farm !”’

‘Indeed !”? said the mistress, resting the feather-
brush a moment, for she was dusting the bric-a-brac
upon our little parlor mantelpiece—‘‘ indeed ?”’

The first utterance was exclamatory, the second in-
terrogatory. and the two together, taken with the
glance cast at her spouse, expressed surprise, incred-
ulity and inquisitiveness in due proportion and succes-
sion.

I stood at the open door, fencing out with my walk-
ing-stick our watch-dog ‘‘ Dolf,’? who was always in-
clined to run into the forbidden precincts of the parlor.
We were outfitted for a long walk, Dolf and I.

‘“ It is quite true,”’ I said, solemnly ; ‘‘ we are not the

only tenants. There are a score—a hundred—in fact I

know not how many races of inhabitants here, all to the
manor born, and with a pedigree ante-dating William
Penn-and his charter, his treaties and his aboriginal
treators. They are the real ‘original inhabitants ’—
the birds and beasts and flying-creeping things. I
made the discovery yesterday. I am going to make
the acquaintance of my fellow-tenants to-day. Good-

by, my dear. Come, Dolf!”’
13

14 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

We walked out, leaving the mistress brushing the
mantelpiece, with a brightened look, for, thank God !
her spouse had found at last a congenial outdoor
occupation. Not a new one, however, by any means.
Months afterward I learned that in the conspiracy for
my health between doctor and wife there had been
strong reliance upon a revival of the early tastes and
pursuits of a naturalist, which had been pushed to the
wall by engrossing business, to tide over a crisis, send the
invalid into the health-giving fields, and hold him there
content during the interval of rest.

“*Tt was a happy moment indeed,’’? the mistress
said, ‘‘ when the returning interest in your old studies,
announced at our parlor door, showed me that the spirit
of languor and decline had given back before a rising
current of yitality. It was a red-letter morning, that,
in my life, and the rainbow of hope bent above the
old farm-house the livelong day.”’

Meanwhile, quite unconscious of the little voters
secret joys, :‘master and dog were tramping across the
meadow toward the small stream that threads the farm
known as Townes’ Run. The feathery grasses grew high
along the banks ; clumps of tall reeds stood in the little
basins like squads of grenadiers ; tufts of golden rod and
wild asters, weeds and youngling bushes overhung the
narrow channel. Yesterday I had found there, as I had
carelessly strode on, the snare of a friend of other days,
the Orange Argiope—Argiope aurantia. I stooped to
look and admire the comely spider hanging upon her
white central shield. (Fig. 1.)

|

os |

Hh | | A | I

\ i i nt | |

a Kt AN a
FIG. 1—ARGIOPE AND SNARE.

15 |

16 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

You do not believe, perhaps, in the sudden birth of a
soul into a new passion, or its sudden palingenesis—its
rebirth—into an old love and life? Nevertheless, as I
kneeled in the grass before that web of silken threads,
brought out in detail against the background of a black
slouch hat held behind it, the old passion came back as
with a bound,.and seated itself in my heart. Many
years before this, during a brief enforced idleness, in a
moment: like the present, when the body was drifting
deviously before: an. aimless wind, a similar vision had
awakened, as by a new birth, the first special love of a
naturalist.. Memory now ‘recalled vividly the whole
outward details of that scene, indeed my very thoughts
and: feelings. Was it. merely a trick of mental associa-
tion? When forests of black-jack oak succeed burned
pines ona Jersey barren, and chestnut groves follow a
spruce-clearing in. the Alleghanies, botanists suggest
that it is simply a return to an eariier state, permitted
by a removal of the restraining. conditions. Do old
mental. moods, long buried under other courses ot
thought and emotion, spring up in full force again when
overlying habits are set aside ? But this is a digression
into the field of philosophy. We return.to our meadow
and the Orange Argiope..

She is among the most beautiful of our native spiders,
and is our largest species of orbweavers, with the ex-
ception of Wilder's Nephila (WNephila Wilderi) of
the far Southern states. She is quite continental in
her habitat, as I have traced her westward through
Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin, Nebraska, to the Rocky

RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 17

Mountains, northward to Vermont, and southward as
far as Texas and Florida. She has adapted herself to
the widely-separated conditions of this immense terri-
tory without any perceptible variation in form or habit.

Let me describe her: her cephalothorax (united head
and chest, or head-thorax) is robed in a _ beautiful
silver-drab, so that thus far she has adopted the tradi-
tional color of the Society of Friends. But in the rest
of her body she is not so orthodox, for the abdomen
is beautifully marked with black, orange and brown.
Her eight legs are dark orange, ringed with brown and
black. She has no fixed popular name, although I have
heard her called the large meadow spider. She belongs
to the group known as orbweavers ( Orbitelariv), because
of the wheel-shaped geometric snare which they spin.
There is a peculiarity in her snare, as it is generally
formed, which at once marks it. In the centre, or hub,
is woven a thick white silken oval patch, from the top ot
which extends upward a ribbon of like material. From
beneath runs downward a zigzag cord, which resembles
more closely than anything I know in natural spinning-
work, the ‘* winding-stair ’’? up which the unhappy fly
was ‘‘ dragged into the dismal den,’’ according to the
plaintive school-book classic of the ‘‘ Spider and the
Fly.” Argiope loves such sites as the reedy banks of
- Townes’ Run, and one will often see her web swung
among the tall grasses and bushes, while the occupant
hangs head downward upon her central shield.

IT had unfolded a light camp-stool and was seated con-

tentedly-sketching this pretty object when a light tread

RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 19

was heard in the grass, and a woman’s voice saluted
me. Abby Bradford is a bright New England girl, of
good family, good education, good manners, and good
looks withal. She had held a position under the govern-
ment in Glen Mills, just beyond, where the paper used
in national bank notes had been made. When that
most conyenient medium of exchange, the fractional
currency, was so unwisely abolished, Abby’s occupa-

tion was gone, but an engagement to teach Highwood

district school recalled .her from her Massachusetts

home. After the fashion of the country-side, she must
find a home in one of the rural families, and very gladly
wife had welcomed her to the Old Farm. Her presence
would relieve the solitude of our country-place, which
was our advantage ; and a kindly home with congenial
friends was hers. We shall know her better by-and-by,
but I may say here that we had cause often to con-
gratulate ourselves uponthe good fortune that brought
the school-mistress into our family.

‘What !”? she said, when we had exchanged greet-
ings, ‘‘are you sketching ? I did not know that you
were an artist.”’

“Tam not an artist,” I answered ; “but necessity
has forced upon me a little rude skill with the pencil.
Will you see my work ?’’ I gave her the note-book,
and pointed to my subject hanging among the golden
rods and grasses at our feet.

‘‘A spider? Oh, the ugly creature !”’

The young lady stepped backward a pace with this
characteristic exclamation. As though to resent the

20 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

insult thus put upon her, the Argiope began to shake
her shield, commencing slowly, and waxing faster and
faster in her movements until the whole web was in
violent oscillation.

‘“See!’? T'said, ‘* You have wounded the creature’s
vanity, or, at least, you have awakened her fears. Wait
until she has quieted, then look closeiy and see if either
her person or work is worthy of so harsh a criticism.
There, the web is still now—what say you ?”’

‘‘T do declare,’’? answered the honest maiden, ‘it
isn’t so ugly after all, and the net is really a work of art.
Certainly, I should know better than to speak lightly of
any of Nature’s children; but then, you know, spiders
do seem an exception. Everybody fears and dislikes
them.”’

‘Yes, you doubtless speak for your race. There is
perhaps no creature with which man is intimately asso-
ciated that has come in for a larger share of aversion
than our humble friend Arachne. Like most human
prejudices, this is an undeserved and unreasonable feel-
ing.- The spider is a true philanthropist. She is, with-
out reservation, a friend to our race, destroying noxious
insects by myriads. and making in return no impost or
levy upon oun orchards, vineyards, cupboards or cellars.
She is not the only example of unrewarded merit—of
an ill name earned by a supposed ugly visage; in
short, of a prophet without honor in his own country.
Nor are spiders all so very ugly, as you have con-
fessed. The fact is they have been deteriorated by too
close contact with man. The house and cellar spi-

FIG. 3.—COCOON OF

22 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

ders, the occupants of our own homes, with which
we oftenest meet, are precisely the ones least at-
tractive to our eyes. If you will take the pains to
search the flowers and shrubs, forests and ferns, you
shall find that there are spiders with as fair an exterior,
in point of color, at least, as more favorite animals.
Even birds, be it remembered, have their buzzards and
vultures ; and at all events, as long as ladies will insist
upon shuddering at sight of the most beautiful animal
in creation—the serpent—we may feel justified in disre-
garding their prejudice against poor Arachne. How-
ever, when you know her better, I am sure you will
like her more.”’

‘*Mr. Mayfield,’”’ cried Abby, ‘‘ I must protest now !
Surely you are not in earnest when you call the serpent
beautiful ? I might come over to your opinion as to
spiders and insects, but—snakes! Ugh!”

‘“What is this ?’’? I asked, touching a spiral bracelet
upon her wrist. ‘‘ A mimic silver serpent! And this ?”’
I added, lifting the links of a gold watch-chain, coiled
at her waistband. ‘And this 2” pointing to coils of
brown hair upon the back of her head. ‘‘ Here is your
own witness ‘that serpentine forms, at least; are not
lacking in beauty: Ladies do not decorate their persons
with ugly things. ”’

The play of mind upon Abby’s face was a pleasant
study as she followed these sentiments, evidently quite
new and startling. The mantling cheeks and kindled
brown eyes betrayed the mixed nature of her feelings—
the pleased surprise of hovel thought; the confusion

FIG. 4.—A BROOD OF SPIDERLINGS

ON THEIR FIRST OUTING.
23

24 TENANTS OF AN OLD.FARM.

of a mind detecting itself in error—doubt and keen in-
quiry, as though the latent sophistry of my remarks
were suspected but not seen. I followed up my advan-
tage. ;

‘“Cast your eye along this little stream as it skirts
yonder hili-side and pursues its winding course across
the meadow. Has it not taken upon itself the external
and formal limitations of your ‘ugly snake’? Ifa poet
were to speak of it as ‘crawling,’ or of its ‘ serpentine
way,’ would he not be borrowing terms from the snake’s
natural action to express his idea of beautiful form and
motion ? The progress of a serpent over the ground or
through the water is the very ideal of free, graceful
movement. Then, as to its anatomy—but, come, I
must not be too fierce an iconoclast, or I shall cause
a reaction in your thoughts against my animal friends,
ane. quite spoil any good effect that I may have wrought
in tueir behalf. This is your Saturday holiday ; can
you join me for one hour in a morning stroll along the
run ?. I promise you some new and £ hope agreeable
acquaintances,’

[ ne : __ as os = Ss - 2

es
Boi

CHAPTER vue
THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER.

‘“Srop! Look into this clump of grasses and tell me
what you see.”’

‘*T see nothing of special interest,’’ said the school-
mistress. ‘‘ The bearded heads of the grass have been
twisted together by some passing animal, I suppose,
but thatis all. Ah,no! Isee now. Here is a beautiful
little pear-shaped nest hung among the foliage. Ihave
seen similar ones in New England, though I am sure I
cannot guess what it is unless it be the cocoon of a cater-
pillar.”’

‘No, it is the ege-sac, or, as it is technically called
(although somewhat: loosely), the ‘cocoon’ of our
Argiopé. It has evidently just been made; we shall
find the mother near by. Ah, here she is! Alarmed by
our approach she has hidden among these leaves, Ob-
serve how the abdomen has shrunken as compared with
the specimen we first saw, who was distended with
eggs, which, by-and-by, she will dispose of in a like
cocoon. Excuse me a moment; I must capture this
little mother before telling more of her story.”’

Taking a paper box from my satchel I opened it,
placed the two parts on opposite sides of the spider,

gently approximated them until the body was inside

THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 2%

lightly pressed the struggling legs until they too were
pulled within, then closed the box and put it in my
vocket (Fig. 6.)

FIG. 6.—‘ COLLECTING A SPECIMEN.?’’

_“Isn’t that cruel ?’’ abruptly asked my companion,
who had watched the process of ‘‘ collecting a speci-
men ’”’ with curious eye.

‘Cruel? No. I should be sorry to give needless
pain to any creature ; nor do I feel entitled to use my
lordship over the life of the humblest insect except fora
sufficient and benevolent end. As a priest in the temple
of Nature I may dedicate this victim to Science. I shall
see that she has a painless death. Moreover, her days
are already numbered by the irrevocable decree of
Nature; after tne spinning of a cocoon the mother-
spider hangs upon it or near it for a few days, and then
“dies.”

‘*T have noticed,’’ remarked Abby, plainly not quite
satisfied that I had made out a good case, but willing to

PUPAL a

28

THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 29

change the subject, ‘‘ that spiders are nearly always
found alone. Do they never go in pairs or groups ?”’

‘“‘ Tn afew species the male and female dwell together ;
you will sometimes see broods of younglings massed to-
gether in little balls, or seated on their webs in little
clusters (Fig. 4); you will even see large colonies ofadults
as on the boat-houses of Atlantic City and Cape May—
each on an independent web, however (Fig. 5). But as
a rule Arachne, in her social habits, is the very-opposite
of the social ants, bees and wasps. She is a solitary
body, and welcomes all visitors as the famous Buck-
eye wagoner, Tom Corwin, advised the Mexicans to
welcome our invading army, ‘ with bloody hands to hos-
pitable graves.’ Nevertheless the maternal instinct is
quite as strong within her as in any other animal.

‘‘Here, now, is our Argiope’s cocoon. See what a
pretty shelter-tent has been made by lashing these
plants together (Fig. 3). Guy ropes of silk are attached
to the cocoon at various points over the surface, and at
the opposite ends fastened to the foliage. Thus the tiny
basket swings secure amidst the most rigorous winter
storm. Our mother-spider, indeed, might sing over her
cradle the famous nursery rhyme :

“** Rock-a-by, baby, on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock.’

os However, there would be little likelihood in her case
of such a melancholy conclusion as the lullaby has :

““¢ When the bough bends the cradle will fail,
And down comes cradle, baby and all !’

** You have doubtless heard of Indian wicker-work

30 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

water-vessels. I have seen a large woven bowl in which
meats were boiled, the water having been heated by hot
stones. They were perfectly water-tight. That is an
admirable example of ingenuity in weaving; but our
Argiope has approached it. The outside of her cocoon
is usually tough and glazed, and effectually repels moist-
ure. I have opened many and never found the slightest
evidence that rain or snow or sleet had made an entrance.
It is a strong case of forecast, certainly, although I am
not prepared to say that the forecast abides in the brain-
cells of the mother aranean. At ail events, mother-love
has met the difficulties as if they had been antici-
pated.”’

‘* Perhaps,’’ suggested Abby reverently, ‘‘ we are here
on the track of an infinite forecast ? How is the in-
terior of the egg-sac furnished ?”’

‘¢ Suppose we look. We may devote this example to
science and dissect it. As I open it with my knife, thus,
you observe that the glaze lies upon the surface of a soft,
yellow, silken plush, the whole forming the outer wall.
Within that there is a mass of purple silk floss—raw
silk, you might say—which evidently acts as a blanket-
ing to the eggmass within. The eggs are yellow globules,
sometimes several hundred in number, deposited under-
neath a plate-like cushion, and swathed with a white
silken sheet. Thus the young spiderlings are snugly
blanketed and tucked away awaiting their deliverance
from the nursery at the coming of spring.”’

‘‘ But does the mother leave the little fellows there
without any provison for them ?”’

THE TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 31

‘‘ Well, a spider, unlike true insects, does not undergo

transformation from a worm, through the chrysalid to .

the imago. It hatches out like a bird, and has no need
to have stored within its cell a supply of nutrition as
with voracious grubs. It can wait until its exode, when
it is able to spin its own web and provide for its own
larder. Therefore, the mother shows a true forecast of
the situation and wants of her offspring when she fails
to store food within the cocoon. JBesidés, there is a
suspicion—though I am not prepared to affirm it—that
the little ogres eat each other up, as necessity requires,
an exigency of spider infancy which is provided for or
against in the great number of eggs laid and young
hatched out.”’

‘* Dear me, what a situation that for the baby spider-
lings! To be shut within those inexorable walls and
wait until one’s turn comes to be served for dinner
to one’s sister or brother! It is to be hoped that Nature
has kindly made the little fellows unconscious of their
destiny. However, if one half is true that I hear of this
human brotherhood of ours, it is not so very unlike the
spider’s baby-house. The big brothers eat the little
ones, and the monopolies swallow all !”’

‘“ What! so young and aiready a cynic? But you
mustn’t let your moralizing blind your eyes to the facts
of life all around you. Look into that bush that you
are passing. I see there one of my special friends whom
I want you to know. Do you find her ?”’

‘“You mean this pretty little cobweb? But it is
small and delicately wrought, and half hidden among

32 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

i) *{
A

A
THEE
ois

CER
(age

FIG. 8.—SNARE AND EGG-SACS OF CYCLOSA.

the leaves. How could you see it from where you stand,
eight or ten feet distant ?’’ (Fig. 8.) |

** Nothing marvelous in that. I caught the sheen of
the white web in the sunlight which fell upon it just at
the right angle, and a glance was enough for recogni-
tion. There is a multitude of spider webs that are re-
vealed only thus, or on a dewy morning by the drops of

moisture entangled in them. Let me show you how I

9,—CYCLOSA’S COCOONS, WITH SCALPAGE.

FIG,

33

34 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

recognized the species. Observe that a segment of the
web is quite cut out at the top, through the centre of
which a thick line is stretched. This peculiarity is
caused by the little mother ( Cyclosa turbinata) when
she begins making her cocoons. She cuts out the spirals,
as you see, and in the clear space hangs a straw-colored,
pear-shaped cocoon, no larger than a pea. At first it is
a clean silken sac, but as the mother preys upon the
small insects that fall into her snare, instead of casting
out the dry shells, as is common, she hangs them upon
her cocoon, which is soon decorated with gauze wings,

shining black heads and bodies (Fig. 9) until the origi-

nal color quite disappears. By-and-by a second cocoon |

is added ; a third and a fourth follow, and I once found
a string of eight. Each cocoon is treated in the same
manner, until, like a genuine savage of the genus homo,
the tiny Amazon has decorated her home and her
babies’? homes with the scalps of her victims. Here
she hangs on the hub of her snare, holding on to
the lower part of her precious string of beads with a
little white ribbon woven into the net beneath her. It
was this ‘ scalpage’ that enabled me to know my small
acquaintance so readily.”’

Leaving our, aboriginal Cyclosa undisturbed in her
wigwam to the full enjoyment of her cradles and scalps,
we resumed our walk. J inding myself presently alone
I turned and saw Abby intently peering into a pyramid
of grasses which I had almost trodden under foot.

‘‘ Here is surely something of value,” she cried. “At

first | thought it an egg-nest of Orange Argiope, but

7
=
“=
:

~ See

x
Z
Fe uf

TW
=

—~

FIG. 10.—EGG-sAc OF THE SILVERY ARGIOPR.

. - al ne
——————————————

36 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

it is quite different when I look closely. Maybe it is
the work of a young mother? Ah! I see by your smile
that I have blundered.”’

‘*T was thinking of your last remark ; and, after all,
when I reflect, it is not-so unnatural a conclusion.
There is Cyclosa, who, after having made half a dozen
cocoons, might be considered an ‘expevienced’ mother.
But Argiope never makes but one. Her maternal love
and energy center upon that single work, and then she
dies. But upon the discovery itself I must congratu-
late you; it is a noble find—the cocoon of the Silvery
Argiope (Argiope argyraspts)—which I have never met
but once. And now, with a boast of clear-sightedness
fresh upon my tongue, I have fairly run over this rare
specimen! Well, it is not the first time that I have
had illustration of the old adage :

co A raw recruit,

Perchance, may shoot
Great BONAPARTE!’

You have proved yourself an apt recruit in the entomo-
logical field, and have done good service. You have
shown a true eye also, for this is not the egg-nest of
Aurantia, but of one of her congeners, the Silvery Ar-
siope (Fig. 10). Here she lies, or hangs rather, hold-
ing even in death, to the frail hammock of a few lines
spun against the dry grasses. She is a beautiful
creature, covered with a glossy silver-white fur coat,
with bands of black and yellow across the abdomen. '
How fortunate! here is another snare, spun in the

weeds at the edge of the run!”

THH TENANTS PREPARING FOR WINTER. 3%

iam

LIMES

LTT.

[TTS SN acess
SG

6
Zee Sea iit

FIG. 11.—SNARE OF ARGIOPE ARGYRASPIS.

“And here is a third,’ echoed Abby, “with the
spider hanging at the centre.” |

“Good! Now we can study the web, which is a
very pretty object.” -(Hig. 11.)

“It is- quite like the snare of Orange Argiope, |
think—-mine is at least; but yours, how daintily the

central part has been decorated! Why is that?”

Bie) TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

FIG. 12.—DECORATION OF ARGYRASPIS.

‘“T cannot speak with certainty. This snare, as you
remarked, resembles Aurantia’s, although the cen-
tral shield is rarely so prominent, and the ‘ winding
stair’ is less frequent. The decorations of which you
speak are more generally found on Argyraspis webs.
They are semi-circular, zigzag ribbons and cords of silk
spun in pairs or triplets on either side of the hub. Some-
times they go quite around it (Hig. 12). They cer-
tainly give the snare a dainty appearance, but I imagine
they are not for decoration— as the scalpage of Cyclosa
really seems to be—but to strengthen the snare, and
perhaps to form a sort of barricade to protect the owner
from assault of enemies. I must collect this cocoon
before we go further; it may be long before I meet
another specimen. There, dead mother and her future

progeny are safely boxed, and we may walk on.”

~.

CHAPTER IV.
WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES.

THE stream at this point entered the edge of the wood,
cutting its way through by a glen or ravine, on one side
of which the land rose gradually, on the other rather
abruptly. Both sides were covered with bushes and a
young growth of trees, whose branches spread above the
run, forming in summer time a dense shade, within
which and the shadow of the rocks that jutted into the
stream grew numbers of tall ferns.

‘* On the skirts of this wood,” I said, ‘*‘ we should find
cocoons and crysalids of the Lepidoptera—moths and
butterflies—in abundance. Let us search these young
oak trees. I dare say we shall see something interest-
ing.’’? I had already caught a view of several of the
objects for which we were now looking—the winter
tenants. of our trees—but waited for my companion to
observe for herself. There is a special pleasure in the

consciousness of original discovery, and a sense of per-

sonal proprietorship which adds much to the interest

with which the mind regards things. One’s own -find-
ings are, therefore, the most fruitful in thought, and the
best texts for instruction. I had not long to wait ;

Abby’s mind was quite intent upon the search, and soon
39

WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 41

FIG.‘1380.—LARVA OF POLYPHEMUS MOTH.

her keen eyes discerned the forms of severai cocoons
pendant among the branches of an oak.

‘*T have them!”’ she cried. ‘‘Curious things they
are, to be sure, and a curious story, no doubt, you have
to tell about them.”’ .

‘‘Curious, certainly, to those who have thought
little of such things ; and yet it is only a small chap-
ter of a great book that lies open everywhere—open,
but unread. . Such things as I have to tell are curious
only because people have not looked into the commonest
facts around them. This is the cocoon of the Polyphe-
mus moth (Fig. 13c). You observe how snugly the
leaves have been tucked around it. Tear them away
and there appears a yellowish, oval, silken case, inside

of which the pupa is stowed. The thread of which this
3

42 “TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

cocoon is spun is contimu-
ous, and easily unwound
like that of the ordinary
silk moth, Bombyx mori, It
has a rich gloss, and high
hopes have been entertained —
that it could find extensive
use in commerce. A New
Kngland gentleman — suc-
ceeded in rearing the in-
sects in large numbers, so
as to obtain wagon loads of
cocoons. His ‘plant’ pre-
sented a truly animated ap-
pearance, with not less than

a million worms feeding in
the open air on bushes coy- Fig 13 c.—-cOCOON OF POLY-
i PHEMUS MOTH.

ered with a net.”’

‘‘ A sight more attractive to the entomologist, or
silk-grower, I should think, than to the general public,”’
remarked Abby.

‘* Very likely, but I have observed that a dollar dis-
cerned in the distance has a wonderful effect in bright-
ening even a vista of caterpillars. Prospect of cash
converts unreasonable sensibilities quite as quickly as a
naturalist’s enthusiasm. ITowever, the general public
has a deep interest in everything relating to silk culture,
for although it may be a ‘disgusting’ fact to some
minds, yet it is a fact that we owe our most beautiful

habiliments to the labor, pains, and eventually the

~

WINTER THNANTS OF OUR TREES. 43

sacrificed life of the despised silk-worm. - The larva of
our Polyphemus moth is thick, fleshy, striped obliquely
with white en the sides, with angulated segments or
‘joints,’ on which are tubercles surmounted by a few
soft hairs, They are hatched about the close of June
from eggs laid singly by the mother moth on the under
sides of leaves. Ten or twelve days intervene between
the deposit of the eges and the hatching of the larva.

** Then begins the feeding, which is not a ‘simple eat-
ing, but a storing of food that must sustain nature
during the long winter sleep, aud in some cases, as with
Cecropia, for example, during the life of the perfect in-
sect when it has transformed. Not only that, but it
must take in enough to supply the curious natural
workshop within it with the crude material from which
comes the silken fibre that turnishes its winter home.
Those are busy days, therefore, for the young worm
during the long summer.

‘* But it has periods of rest from its voracious eating.
Late in the afternoon of a summer day, if you would
peep among the leafy barricades of these oak-boughs,
you might see our worm undergoing the tedious process
of shedding its own clothes, or moulting. As the grub
grows, the outer skin tightens and hardens; since it

cannot yield, and as the creature must grow while it

_ eats, the only thing to be done is to get rid of the im-

pediment. Therefore Dame Nature, like a careful
nurse, strips the young Polyphemus and puts it aside
to rest. awhile.

** Something analogous occurs to the human intellect

44 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

from time to time, although ‘ Bourbons’ and ‘old
fogies’ are said to be exempt from the process of
moulting. On the other hand, there are some men who
have such marvelous facility at making an intellectual
moult, that one hardly knows where to find them on
ereat questions.

**Our Polyphemus grub is content with five moults,
ten days intervening between the first four, and twenty
between the last two. During the intervals it resumes
the serious duty of life—eating.”’

‘* How many leaves can one larva eat ?”’ asked Abby.
“It seems to me you must exaggerate its voracity, or
its ravages would be more noticeable. Surely, the little
creature within this case couldn’t haye been very for-
midable as a gourmand.”’

‘* Have you ever observed one at its meals? No?
Well, then, you have something yet to learn as to the
proportions of a healthy appetite. The hungry ‘small
boy’ is hardly to be named for gastronomic practice
beside-our Polyphemus. Mr. Trouvelot, a Massachu-
setts observer, has determined that a grub fifty-six
days old has attained 4140 times its original weight, a
progress in avoirdupois which implies a corresponding
vigor in table-fare. Or, to put it in another way, 4
full-grown larva has consumed not less than one hun-
dred and twenty oak-leaves, weighing three-fourths of
a pound, besides the water which it has drunk. Thus
the food which it has taken in fifty-six days equals in
weight evyhty-sic thousand times the primitive weight of

the worm! You may imagine the destruction of leaves

WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 45

LAN
SS \ anil) \

|
\
\

\\
\

FIG. 14.—DAME NATURE STRIPS YOUNG POLYFHEMUS
FOR REST. i)

i . . es: . e " .

which this single species of insect could make if only a |
« ‘ 4 . t

hundredth part of the eggs came to maturity. A few i

{

years would suffice for the propagation of a number |
| large enough to devour all the leaves of our forests.” |
‘But you have not told me yet how the caterpillar Ht}
eats itself within this cocoon. I feel very much as the
somewhat under-wise and stuttering King of England, HH
George II., is said to have felt when he first saw an — Ml
apple-dumpling. ‘ P-p-pray, wh-wh-where, where got
the apple in ?’ How got the pupa inside this case ?”’

46 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘You understand, of course,’’ I replied, ‘‘ that this
hard and apparently lifeless object (Fig. 15) which we
call a pupa did nothing to inclose itself. The larva

‘got’ itself ‘im,’ and then be-
came a pupa. A few days be-
fore it had been seized by a
strange restlessness it wandered
about uneasily ; it refused to eat.
What vision of its coming change
had Nature given the worm? I
believe human beings also are
sometimes impressed in some
such way before great crises. I
have myself experienced, on the
approach of such occasions, those

indefinable, restless sensations

which the moth larva seems to

FIG. 15.—PUPA OF
POLYPHEMUS.

exhibit. Its first step toward
forming a cocoon, after a site had
been chosen, was to wrap the stem, as you see here,
and lash it to the twig above. Then, sinking to this
point, it gradually drew around it the adjacent leaves,
making a tiny arbor or cell, which you observe is the
framework of the cocoon. Within this it began to spin,
drawing its silken threads from point to point as it
moved around the cell. Layer succeeded layer, each
overlapping its predecessor, until the grub was quite
shut in, and, finally, this silken case was completed. It
then ceased work, and, yielding to the strange drowsy

spell which Nature casts upon its kind, it fell into this

WINTHR THNANTS OF OUR TREES. 4

pupal state, wherein it will remain until late in May or
early June next, when it will emerge as a perfect
insect.’ : .

“‘ Well, well,’ exclaimed Abby; ‘‘it is an ‘ oft told

tale,’ but it seems more wonderful to me to-day than

ever before. Of course it is a ridiculous fancy ; but

do you know I can’t help wondering if the moth knows
itself when it emerges! I mean, does it have any
recollection of its larval and pupal estate ?> What do
you think? It’s a foolish notion, I daresay !”’

‘“Not at all; others have had the same thought.
But who can say? Perhaps when we have passed
through some such transformation, we may have more
light on this and other of Nature’s mysteries ; but until

then we must be content to guess at the possible expe-

rience of a moth. <All we ean say is that the mother
insect, if possible, comes to the tree, oak or maple, on
which it was reared as a larva, to deposit her eggs,
Possibly the ghost of a faint impression of the acrid
flavor of oak-leaf may haunt the pairs of nervous
ganglia that serve for brains in a Polyphemus, and so
may urge the creature to haunt its larval resorts. One
would think, however, that all sense of its old person-
ality had been buried and left in this pupal sarcopha-
gus. But then, again, who knows? We might as well

eall the mental processes of both grub and imago
imstinct, and pass on.’ \)
‘*T have another question,’’ said the schoolma’am. |
“You see I am moved by my ancestral traditions, if
the moth is not, and ask questions like a genuine

ECROPTA ).

‘

CROPIA MOTIHT (SAMTIA ¢

CE

FIG. 16.

48

WINTER TENANTS CF OUR TREES. 49

Yankee. Where are the spinning organs of the larva ?
The spider has hers, I know, at the apex of the
abdomen, in several little mammals or spinnerets.
How is it with the caterpillar ?”’

“The position of the spinning organs is precisely
reversed in the silk-worm.. The silk glands consist of
_ two long, flexuous, thick-walled sacs situated on the
sides of the body, and opening by a common orifice on
the under-lip, or labium, usually at the end of a short
tubular protuberance. They are most developed just

when they are most needed—when the larva approaches

the pupa state. And now, suppose we dismiss our
Polyphemus and turn to others quite as——’’

‘* There, excuse me ; you have reminded me of some-
thing I wanted to ask. Why is this moth. called ‘ Poly-
phemus ?’ Is it such a horrible one-eyed ogre as the
giant who handled so roughly the great Ulysses and his
companions ?”’

‘‘Tam afraid that I cannot fully satisfy you until we
return to the house and show you a figure of the insect
—possibly not then, for scientific names are not always
readily accounted for. But we shall have better oppor-
tunity by-and-by, as we walk homeward, to talk over
this matter of scientific names. Meanwhile, let us ex-
amine these elder-bushes along the fence-side. I hope
to find an old friend—ah, there you have it, I see. It
is the Cecropia moth—Samia cecropia. It has nearly
the same habits as the Polyphemus; indeed, the story
of that insect’s life will stand, with a few variations,

for all. Elder, willow and maple are the favorite

50 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

food-trees of Cecropia—in our neighborhood, at least.
There is a clump of young spicewood trees, and yonder
are some sassafras saplings. Let us examine them.
What have you found ?”’

‘Here is a cluster of seven or eight hanging neat
together! They are long, tapering cocoons, prettily
rolled in leaves and bound to the twigs by beautifully
wrapped silk. See, in this one the coil extends several
inches up the stem and around the twig. What is the
use of all this precaution ? Wouldn’t the insects come
out on the ground quite as well? Indeed, I should
think that it would be colder up there exposed to wind,
rain, hail, snow, and frost, than down among the dry
grass and leaves.”’

‘‘The question of temperature hasn’t so much to do
with the matter, I imagine ; the pupe stand an intense
degree of cold, even those of the butterflies (Fig. 17)
which are usually naked. These have
been kept in an ice-house for two
years, and when removed’ to a warm
‘place came out all right. Cold and
damp weather retards the process of
transformation ; but the cocoons do
well enough on the ground where they

fall,as many do; although, on the

whole, I think they are better on the pyg 17.—pupa or
BUTTERFLY VA-

branches, certainly they are safe there ae

from the trampling feet of cattle.”’
However, there are, no doubt, wise reasons for what

you have aptly styled all this precaution, some of which

WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. ol

I can suggest. For one thing

3)

cocoons temper the
rapid changes in the atmospheric temperature. A long,
steadily cola winter seems to be less destructive to the
enclosed pup than a very changeable one of a lower
average temperature. Hence the value, in a changeable
climate, of such enswathments as help to graduate the
weather variations.

Then, again, cocoons are of use in preventing the loss
of moisture by pupe. For example, the pupa of a Ce-
cropia or Polyphemus moth exposed to the atmosphere
without its natural covering will, as a rule, dry up or
produce an imago which will not have moisture enough
in its tissues to expand its wings properly.

Once more. cocoons conceal the inmates from their
natural enemies. If they be noticed they are seen not
to be edible, and the tough parchment enswathment
protects from any but a deliberate and vigorous siege.
Moreover, the odor of the pupa, by which many
enemies would be attracted to it, is probably largely
confined within the cocoon by their structure. You
must take my suggestions with some allowance, how-
ever. I confess that I am not in a position to be very
positive upon this interesting query, which involves
some puzzling and seemingly inconsistent facts. But to
return to our Cynthia cocoons, let me call your atten-
tion again to the manner in which the larva has
wrapped the leaf-stalks entirely around and carried the
windings clear up to the twig on which the leaves hang.
One is almost led to think that the worm wrought with
some knowledge that leaves have the habit of dropping

52 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

from the trees, and secured itself against any such acci-
dent by lashing the petiole tightly to the limb.”’

‘* Well—but—surely, you don’t thing that the worm
really did know that?” exclaimed Abby.

As I did not venture upon an answer, somewhat fear-

ing the questions that the quick-witted maiden might
shower upon me, the schoolma’am dropped the matter
and started another query. .

‘‘ Why should these cocoons be swung aloft in this
fashion, instead of being tied directly to the limbs ?
Does the pensile condition give them any special pro-
tection ?”’

“That is partly, perhaps mainly, due to the peculiar
character of a sassafras leaf-stalk, which you can
readily observe. Yet I can suggest one probable
advantage. There is a cousin-german of these speci-
mens, Philosamia cynthia, who usually builds upon the
ailanthus tree. I have gathered a brood of twenty-
three cocoons hanging upon a small branch. The
ailanthus leaf, you know, falls early, and you may
observe the cocoons (Fig. 18) pendant in clusters from
the bare boughs of the trees along our city streets.
I have seen the sparrows pecking at them, and was
reminded of the days when I tried to gain health and
muscle by a daily boxing-match with a sand-bag hung
in the back yard. Of course the bag swung away at
every blow, only to come back again. I never had any
damage from the sand-bag, which, I suppose, was the
main point; but, on the other hand, the sand-bag

hever got any damage from me, simply because it

CLUSTER OF CYNTHIA COCOONS.

FIG. 18.

533

54 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM...

wouldn’t stay to get it. That was precisely the case
with the ailanthus cocoons ; they gave way before the
bills of the mischievous, chattering sparrows, who
could, therefore, make no impression on them.
Those cocoons were even more carefully attached than
these of the Prometheus, the twigs on which they
hung being wrapped for ten and twelve inches from the
stem, which was also carefully bound about with a
quite decided ribbon of fine yellowish white silk. The
leaves and leaf-stalk were tightly wrapped to the
twig, and thus all were carefully suspended aloft,
where they hung through the entire winter. Now, I
do not know from actual observation that the spar-
rows wished to tear open the cocoon for the sake of the
contents, but I have thought that, in early spring, at
least, their motive may have been to get material for
their nests.”

‘‘ Why should the sparrows wish to obtain the con-

tents of a cocoon 2”? asked Abby. ‘‘ Could they eat the
pupa ?”’ .
Moai: they could, for the pupa is litthe more than a
mass of. vital juices, contained within a not very tough
crust. I have said that I have no positive evidence to
convict our ‘English sparrows of preying upon the
Cecropia pupz, but I cannot say as much for some
other birds. There is at least one bird, the hairy
woodpecker (Picus villosus Linn.), from whose beak the
staunch cocoon of the Cecropia offers no protection
whatever.

‘*T have noticed one of these birds, during the early

WINTER TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 35

gee Z [7 eb innit fi] 3 | | . ‘ Y\ MVEA

{1

Nu
|
ls

AEA
BZ

im

mbar

FIG. 19.—-THE SPARROW’S SPARRING PRACTICE.—p. 52

months of winter, clinging to a twig, pecking away at
the parchment-like covering of a cocoon attached
thereto in a manner that amused me very much, and I
was hugely enjoying its (as I supposed) vain attempts
to penetrate it. But when it hopped to an adjoining
limb, shook itself and exhibited the well-known natural

56 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

behavior of a bird that has just banqueted, I began to
think its powers had been vastly underestimated. By
the aid of a ladder the cocoon was obtained and found
not only to have been punctured, but all the soft and
liquid parts extracted. As there were other cocoons
attached to the same tree which, upon examination,
proved to be uninjured, I was led to believe the bird
had found a weak part in the one which it had pene-
trated.

‘‘ After a few days another cocoon was found to be
punctured, this time fairly upon the crown and appar-
ently in the strongest part. I now saw what had
before escaped my notice, viz.: that by the situation of
the first cocoon it was accessible to the bird only from
below, which accounted for the puncture being near its
base, close to the twig. A short time afterward, on
passing another tree, out from among the branches
flew the little murderer, and, as usual, a pierced cocoon
was found, the puncture yet wet with the juices of the
pupa, showing that I had surprised the bird while at
breakfast. ;

‘‘In the month of January in the succeeding year, I
again found the winged destroyers at work, and could
easily distinguish the dry, rattling sound, the death
knell of the beautiful moth, the larva of which seems
to be as destructive to vegetation as the imago is
innocent. So far as I have been able to observe, the
birds do not attack these cocoons until winter, when
other insect food is not so easily obtainable. In fact,

this seems to be a source of subsistence stored up for this

WINTER TENANTS OF CUR TREES. a7

season of the year, always fresh, and, to all appear-
ances, at all times available.’’*

‘* But, even if we should acquit the sparrows of mur-
derous intent in their assaults upon cocoons, we may
fairly conjecture that they are influenced by desire to
gather material for nest-building.

‘*{ have specimens-of the nests of a Vireo taken in
Fairmount Park, which are largely constructed of
silk stolen from cocoons and webs of spiders. One
may imagine the vigorous but unavailing protests of
the despoiled spinster against the rape of her fair silken
yarns, but what could she do against the thieving
birds? Her stationary domicile and cocoon were far
more exposed to the winged robbers than the oscillating
house of the moth, pendant from the trees.

‘But we have quite spent our hour afield. We will
walk homeward through the ravine, and collect such
specimens as we may on the way. I dare say we shall
find enough material to supply a theme of conversation
for a pleasant evening at home.’’

‘* You promised to initiate me into the mysteries of
scientific names when we started homeward,” said
Abby ; ‘‘ cannot your fulfill your promise now ?”’

“There -is not much mystery in the matter,” I

replied, ‘‘and I shall have little difficulty, I think, in

c* Among the many letters called out by the original chapters of ‘*‘The
Tenants, ’? as published in THE CONTINENT, was one from Mr. F. M.
Webster, Assistant Entomologist of the State of Hlinois, who forwarded
ine the above facts concerning the hairy woodpecker, as observed by
him, and printed in the American Naturalist. They are confirmatory
of my allusion to the sparrows, and I here take the liberty of adding
them to the Tenant’s Experience. )

. 4

58 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

introducing so apt a candidate as yourself. The fact is,
objects in natural history are named precisely on the
same principle that prevails in the bestowment of in-
dividual names among men. 4*» animal or plant has
a generic name that corresponds with the gens, sir, or
family cognomen of a man, and a specific name that —
corresponds with his baptismal, Christian, or individual
name. There is this difference, that the order of the
names is reversed, the gens name of an animal being
placed first instead of last. However, there are some
nations, as the Hungarians and, I believe, also the
Chinese, who follow the very order that naturalists
have established ; and in our directories, ledgers and
other lists of names we Americans do the same. Thus
you might see your own gens or family name, Bradjord,
preceding your individual name <Abby, and so on
through all your clan. If you were to write such a
list and a list of spiders and insects in opposite columns

you would at once see the analogy, thus:

‘* BRADFORD, ABBY, Argiope aurantia,
BRADFORD, GEORGE, Argiope argyraspis,
BRADFORD, MARY, Bombyx mori,
BRADFORD, JOHN, Telea polyphemus.

‘* That is a simple enough arrangement, and natur-
alists invariably adhere to the rule to give only the
two necessary Names to one animal. Certainly, some
of their titles are sufficiently formidable (chiefly —be-
cause they are new to us), but you will now never see
any multiplication of scientific names upon one poor
little creature such as many human babies are com-

/ LY
ey
Z YY

Fy

FIG. 20.— THE RAPE OF THE YARNS.—p. d¢,

3

60 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

pelled to receive: Angelina Seraphima Celestiana Jane-
Eliza BRowN! In sooth, scientific nomenclature is not
the greatest offender in the matter of long and sound-
ing titles.”’

‘Where do the naturalists get their names ?”’ asked
Abby, after heartily enjoying my sally, which her ex-
perience with the names of her school-children enabled
her to fully appreciate.

‘‘The rule is to derive the generic name from the
Greek, and the specific name from the Latin, or to con-
vert the former into a Greek form and Latinize the
latter. It is further the custom, which is not, how-
ever, invariable, to construct the names from some
marked characteristic of the animal. Take, for ex-
ample, our spider friend Argiope aurantia. The generic
name is taken from mythology, after a fancy that long
prevailed among naturalists, and which is especially
marked in the science of astronomy. as you will see
by recalling the names of the planets. Argiope
(Apytony) was a Greek nymph, and the fancy of the
araneologist who created the genus led him to give her
name to it. The specific name aurantia was given by
M. Lucas to this species because of the bright orange
spots on the back of the abdomen, and aurantia is the
Latin word that describes this fact. In the same way
the other beautiful species was named <Argiope, of
course, because she belongs to the same gens, and
argyraspis (latin for silvery) because of her silvery
abdomen.

“Take the next example on our list; the scientific

WINTEK TENANTS OF OUR TREES. 61

name of the silkworn is Bonbyx mori. “The generic
title is simply the Greek name for that insect (foufvé,
bombyx), which very properly is given to the gens
of which it is the best known member. In other
words, like distinguished sovereigns and citizens it es-
tablished a ‘house’ bearing its own name. The
specific name mori is the genitive case of the Latin
word morum, a mulberry, and those who have ever fed
silkworms can see the reason for such a title for that
individual member of the ‘house’ of Bombyx.

‘Now as te polyphenus; its specific name was
probably given, as you guessed at first, because, at the
time of its discovery, it was supposed to be the giant
among the moths; or, perhaps, because of the large
eye which marks each wing of the perfect insect.
Specific names are often given in honor of naturalists
or others whom the naturalist wishes to compliment,
For instance, I might be pleased to name some spider
or bug after my friend Bradford, in which case I should
Latinize the termination, and call it Bradfordii, or if
after Miss Abby herself, Bradfordiw, perhaps, which is
the female termination of the Latinized Bradfordius.
Such are the general rules governing scientific nomencla-
ture. There are exceptions and violations. But here
we are at home !”

‘* Thanks !”’ said the schoolma’am. ‘‘T see now what
I never knew before, that in science, at least, there is
much in a name,”’

CHAPTER V.
MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE.

‘* THERE is a peculiar pleasure in the hearth when
the first autumnal frosts call for fires. That is, if one
has an open grate oran old-fashioned fireplace. Modern
stoves and furnaces have burned all the poetry out of
the songs and traditions of the ‘ fireside.’

‘Tt requires a more vivid imagination than ordinary
mortals are blessed with to throw the charm of ‘ ingle-
side,’ and all that, around a hole in the wall covered
by an iron filagree gate through whose perforations a
hot air-blast is puffing. As to stoves, if we except the
good old ‘Franklin,’ and all of that ilk, there is
nothing, to be said about or for them save that they do
‘keep us warm.’ ”’

So the Mistress discoursed as Dan piled up the hick-
ory-wood upon the great back-log already smoldering
upon the sitting-room hearth. In the general repairs
which the old farmhouse had undergone this room was
preserved from the intrusion of a coal-grate, and its cay-
ernous depth dedicated to the ancient Lar of the and-
iron and crane. Behold us, then, the entire Highwood
family, seated before the first fire of the season, rejoicing

in its genial light and warmth. The specimens gathered
62

MOTH.

FIG. 21.—cocooNn OF CECROPIA

63

64 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

in the morning walk are laid upon the table, together
with divers books of reference. The Mistress, the
schoolma’am and myself have seats at the table ; Hugh
Bond, the farmer, sits at the chimney side ; at his feet
sits his youngest boy, Harry, and opposite him are his
son Joe, a stout lad of seventeen, and his daughter
Jenny, a young woman of nineteen, who is established
at Highwood as one of our handmaids. Old Dan, some-
what more modestly, sits on a cricket at the side of the
door that opens into the kitchen.

In the days of Farmer Townes the. room in which
we sit was the “living-room” of the family, the
kitchen serving for the dining-room as well.. We have
made the best of the builder’s plans, and converted it
into a dining and sitting-room jointly and severally. A
snug and comfortable place it is, too, with its great
wood fire roaring in the chimney !

We are a democratic company, observe, and why
not ? for we are gathered for the study of natural sci-
ence, and science knows no’ caste ; besides it is the
eood wife’s doing, and came about in this wise :

The advent of the master and schoolma’am, as they
entered the gate after their morning walk, with hands
full of divers specimens and others fluttering from the
master’s hatband, had created quite a sensation at
Highwood, Jt was midday, the dinner-hour on an
American farm, a custom come of descent doubtless
from the European ‘‘ déjetner,’’ with which meal, at
least, both in character and time, as now served upon
the Continent, it precisely corresponds. ‘The entire

MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 65

household was therefore on the premises, and were all
on the alert to know what such strange procedure
might portend. Dan shook his head significantly, and
evidently considered it a natural outcropping of my
malady. ‘Sarah, the cook, thought that ‘‘ yarbs ’’ for
medicine might be at the bottom of the business, until
flugh explained that something more than plants had
been carried home. He had a faint glimmer of the
facts, for some one had told him that his ** boss used to
be a great bug-hunter.”’ Joe, Jenny and their little
brother Harry, a bright twelve-year-old boy, with that
strong sympathy with nature which marks young .
people, were full of curiosity which (with Harry espe-
cially) overflowed in a very freshet of questions. The
Mistress had noted all these things as she moved back
and forth, and at her request an invitation was carried
‘to the whole domestic company to join the evening con-
versation. All accepted heartily except Sarah, a middle-
aged white woman, childiess and a ‘“‘ grass-widow,”’
who declared that she ‘‘ didn’t see no use in any sich
nonsense.’’? Nevertheless, as she sat in the shadows
beside the kitchen-stove she cast many surreptitious
looks through the open door upon the group at the
table, and kept a wide-open ear turned in the same
_ direction.

‘Suppose you begin the conversation,’’ said Abby,
‘* by telling us the use of these cocoons. What ends do
they serve in nature? I was much interested in your
statements this morning, and would like our circle to
have the benefit of some of them at least.”

66 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

** Very good. I will answer by first asking Bond a
question: What is the use of the straw coverings
which you were wrapping around the rose-bushes this
morning ?”?

“Why, sir,’”? replied. Hugh, smiling) abesuch ean
apparently simple question, ‘‘ that’s plain enough. It
saves the bushes from the frost.”

‘‘But surely the frost gets through the straw at
last, and the bushes must be quite as cold during
winter as the outside atmosphere ?”’

**'Y-a-a-s,”” Hugh returned; ‘‘ but then the straw
kind o’ tempers it, too. You see, the cold works in
gradual like, and allows the plant to git used to it.
Besides that, I’ve been told that the bushes ‘sweat ’
jist like animals, and the heayy straw swathing keeps
in that nateral warmth. Still, I don’t know ’bout that.
I reckon the rabbits has somethin’ to do with the busi-
ness, too; leastways, I take pretty good care to wrap
the lower parts a leetle closter. But, to tell the truth,
sir, [never thought much about the why and wherefore.
I puts a coat on the tender bushes pretty much as I
puts one on myself.”’ .

‘ Well, Hugh, you have given a good enough starting
point for my answer. The cocoons, like the straw
wraps, temper the rapid changes in the atmosphere.
A long, steady winter seems to be less destructive to
the inclosed pupa than a very changeable one of a higher
average temperature. Hence the value, in a change-
able climate, of such wraps as help to graduate the
weather variations. Here now is this Cecropia cocoon.

SS a eT

’
.
|
|

FIG. 22.—CECROPIA COCOON PARTLY DISSECTED.

67

68 THENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

(Fig. 21). Istrip aside the leafy covering, and expose
a stiff, parchment-like case, as waterproof as a rubber-
coat. Inside, you see an egg-shaped object, completely
covered with a thick blanketing of flossy silk. (Fig. 22).
The silk overlays a second parchment case, which I
cut away, and come to the baby moth, tucked in its
cradle, sound asleep. This is what we cali the pupa.
There it is !”

The whole party had eagerly watched the progress of
the scissors as I dissected the cocoon, and the young
people had become so much interested that they leit
their seats at the fireside, and approached the table.

‘* Dear me !”’ said the Mistress, langhing, ‘‘ that quite
equals the care which German mothers give their
babies in winter. I have seen them lying upon a
feather bed, and another bed of eider down or feathers
laid upon them asa covering. Their rosy little fat faces
peeped out of their knit woolen caps, and showed pink
and chubby like a premium peach in a bunch of cotton.”

‘* TI. wonder,’’ said Abby, ‘‘if the Indian mothers
didn’t get their style of wrapping up their papooses
from the Cecropia moth ?”’

‘“ Who knows ? Dame Nature has given many a good
hint to men, and the squaws might have gone further
and fared worse. But to proceed with our lesson : here
is one of Harry’s contributions. He dug it out of the
potato-tield for me this afternoon. I didn’t give him
the name of the baby insect, or I fear that he would not
have been so friendly toward the ‘ poor wee thing,’ for

it is an old acquaintance—‘ the potato-worm.’ ”’

MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 6S

FIG. 23.—THE POTATO-WORM LARVA.

“Hi!” cried Dan, sitting bolt upright on his cricket,
‘‘doan’ mean ter say, Mars Mayfiel’, dat dat’s de nas’y
big green catumpill’r *t eats de tater wines? ’Taint
nothin’ like it, shore !”’

“Yes, Dan, this is the potato-worm, the tomato-
worm, or the tobacco-worm, just as you choose to call
it. You all know it—a large green caterpillar, witha
kind of thorn on the tail, and oblique, whitish stripes on

the side of the body. It grows to the thickness of the
-fore-finger, and the length of three inches or more
(Fig. 23).- It comes to its full size from the middle of
August to the first of September, then crawls down the
stem of the plant; and buries itself in the ground.

70 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

There, in a few days, it throws off its caterpillar skin,
and becomes this bright brown erysalis.”? (Fig. 24).

‘* Tf you please, Mars Mayftiel’,’? interrupted Dan,
““whar’s de ’coon? Dat’s no ’coon at all; I speck

FIG. 24.—PUPA OF POTATO-MOTH,

Harry’s done shucked it, and 1’d like powerful well to
know all ’bout dat tater-worm.”’

*‘I didn’t neither!’ answered Harry,. warmly.
‘‘That’s all there was of it; Mr. Mayfield stood by
while I dug, and knows it’s so.”

‘Quite true, Harry ; but, Dan, can you tell why
Bond don’t wrap up the roots of his bushes in straw, as
well as the branches ?”’

‘‘ Why, Mars Mayfiel’, ’v course de ground keeps
de roots warm widout de straw.”’

‘* Precisely ; and so it is with the crysalis. As the
larva goes into the ground, to ‘ transform,’ as we say,
instead of hanging on the tree like this Cecropia, it has
less need of the protection of a cocoon. Although we
shall see by-and-by, that crysalids can get on very well,
even when hanging naked on the trees.

‘* But look at this,’’? said Abby, pointing to the long,
stem-like appendage at one end of the crysalis. *‘ Your

erysalis must have been suspended to the trees at some

MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE,. 71

time, for here is the very stem by which it hung, just.
like those of the Polyphemus and Cynthia moths.”
Thereupon she handed the object to the mistress, who
examined it carefully.

“Why, father,’’? she remarked, ‘‘I fear that Abby
has caught you napping this time.”’

** That is right,”? answered. ‘‘ Iam glad that your
minds are alert and not disposed to take too much
without question. Let the crysalis pass around the
circle, and then I will show you the imago or perfect
insect. Here is a figure of our potato-worm full fledged.
A fine laree moth it is, you see. It has dropped its
humble name now and is known as Phlegethontius
quinque-maculata, or, popularly, the Five-spotted
Sphinx.” (Fig. 25.)

** Well, well,”’ said the Mistress, a little impatiently.
‘* What has that to do with this ‘stem’ that we were
talking about ?”’

*‘ Patience, my dear, I am coming to that; but I
want you, first, to see the insect’s tongue, Come, Abby,
you have the first look ; do you see the tongue ?”

** Not I! and it’s not to be seen, for the back of the
moth is toward us.”’

+2hen let the others try.”’

All studied the picture and came to the same conclu-
_ sion—no tongue was to be seen.

**T must put spectacles-on your eyes, I find. You see
this long, delicate, curled organ rising out of the head
and extended over the flower into which it is about to

be thrust ?—this is the insect’s tongue.”’

FIG. 25.—PHLEGETHONTIUS QUINQUE-MACULATA (SPHINX FAMILY).

MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE, 3

*¢ That the tongue ?”’

“<The tongue ?”’

‘* The tongue !”’

So the query and exclamation ran from one to an-
other, or, rather, rose from all in chorus.

‘“Yes,’’ I answered, ‘‘ that is the tongue, and Madam
Sphinx certainly can’t complain of its brevity. Here,
now, is where your ‘stem’ comes in. The long, slen-
der object which you mistook for the cord by which a
cocoon hangs is a tongue-case. It is bent over, as you
see, from the head so as to touch the breast only at the
end, causing the crysalis somewhat to resemble a
pitcher.’

My discourse was here interrupted by an unctuous
roll of laughter proceeding from the kitchen door, ‘* Ho,
hoshe: 27

All eyes were turned upon Dan, who was rocking
back and forth upon his stool, in an ecstacy of merri-
ment. Soon the entire group was laughing in pure
sympathy, for no one had suspected the cause of Dan’s
mirth.

‘* Beg pardon, Mars Mayfiel’,”’ he said, at length. ‘‘I
done forgot my manners, dat’s a fac’; but it come over
me so sudden! I’se jes’ thinkin’ dat ef all de long-
iongued folkses could git dat kin’ uy a spectakle-case
to stow away dar tongues in, ’t would be mighty
handy round our kitchen o’ nights! Dar’s Sarey Ann,
now, _7?

Another outbreak of hearty laughter interrupted

Dan’s remarks, the point of which every one appre-
=
5

74 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

ciated ; for, with all her excellencies, our cook carried
a sharp tongue, and was prone to use it freely, as Dan
had more than once complaimed, upon ‘‘de kitchen
foiks.”? :

‘*Dan Davis,’’ cried a wrathful voice from out the
shadows of the kitchen, ‘‘ you’d better curl up a rod or
two of your own tongue, I reckon.”’

Dan hitched his cricket around, half rose, and looked
into the kitchen. ‘‘’Fore goodness sake, Sarey Ann, I
nebber s’posed you’s a lestenin’ to our nonsenses ’bout
the bugs. Hiden! You’ve been keepin’ the lef? year
open all de time ?”’

‘sit down, Dan,’’ l said. ** 17)! imtercede for you
with Sarah, although you certainly deserve a little
tongue-lashing this time. Let us get back to our
erysalis. It remains in the ground through the winter,
below the reach of frost, and in the following spring the
crysalis-skin bursts open, the large moth crawls out of
it, comes to the surface of the ground, and, mounting
upon some neighboring plant, waits until the approach
of evening invites it to expand its untried wings and
fly in search of food, which it sucks from the flowers by
means of its tongue. The tongue can be unrolled to
the length of five or six inches, but, when not in use, is
coiled like a watch-spring, and is almost entirely con-
cealed between two large and thick feelers, under the
head. The moth measures across the wings about five
inches; is of a gray color, variegated with biackish
lines‘and bands, and on each side of the body there are

five round, or rectangular, orange-colored spots en

MOTHS AT THH FIRESIDE. ris)

circled with black. These are the markings that have
given it the name of the Five-spotted Sphinx.”’

‘‘ Why should it be called a sphinx at all ?’’ asked
Abby.

** The larva, when disturbed, has the habit of raising
its head aloft and curving several of the first segments
of the body (see Fig. 23). The fancied resemblance of
this attitude to the Egyptian Sphinx has suggested its
scientific Family name, the Sphingide.”

‘“That is very good,’’ said the Mistress, ‘‘ very good,
indeed, and I am sure that it will help me to remember
what you have said. Is that what has been called a
scientific use of the imagination ? If so, I suppose we
might complete the fancy, and think of the famous
‘Riddle of the Sphinx,’ as the continually repeated
question of the farmers, ‘What be them worms made
for, anyhow ?’”’

‘** Are not these large moths very rare insects ?”’ asked
Abby. ‘‘I don’t remember ever to have seen one.”’

‘*On the contrary, they are quite common,”’ [ replied.
“You will find them even within the city limits, where
they feed on the Jimson (Jamestown) weed, which
grows abundantly on vacant lots. But they are night-
feeders, keeping close under the cover of the leaves and
branches during the day, and only flying abroad after
nightfall. For this reason we rarely see them. You
have seen the small species of moths fluttering around
the hghts on a summer evening, but the large species
do not often venture through the windows. The fact
is, there is an ight-world of all sorts of creatures living

A=

7 : 2 ne! >

ee

ar : ; =
Thy ce
es

MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 77

close around us, little known by most men, and, indeed,
their presence little suspected.”’

“It’s a mighty good thing,’? remarked Dan, ‘‘ dat
dem mo’hys doan fly inter de winders often.’’ He
placed his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, rested
his chin upon his fists, shook his head oracularly, and
assumed a very solemn air, ‘‘ No, it ain’t bes’, noways,
to have too much to do wid dem critters. Dar was my
brudder Wash, ’fore I cum up from ole Marylan’; de
berry week “fore he died one ob dese big mo’hvs flew
inter de winder, flickered aroun’ de candle, and *fore we
know’d brushed it right out. Dar we wur, all in the
dark ; an’ I tell you, a fearder set there never was. I
*member dat night to dis day! We knowed we was
warned, an’ dat some ’y us mus’ go. But which ?—
Good Lor’, dat was de question! Shore *nough, a week
arter dat, Wash was taken sick an’ died. He knowed
he had to go w’en he was tuk, an’ jis lay down and kin’
0’ faded out. No! It doan do to have too much to do
wid dem mo’hvys.

‘* An’ dat ain’t all,’’ continued the venerable servant,
perceiving that we were all encouraging him to continue
his discourse. ‘* Dat ain’t all, needer. Dar’s one ob
dem mo’hvs dat goes flyin’ roun’ wid a reg’lar raw-
head-and-bloody-bones on it, like de pirate flag ob Cap-
tain Kidd. Dey calls it de ‘ Death’s-Head Mohf,’ or
somethin’ like that——”’

“‘ Did you ever see one, Dan ?”’ I asked, interrupting
hans *

The old man started, spread his oven palms upward,

"8 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

rolled his eyes, shook his head, and, with a voice that
almost trembled with fear, replied :

‘““See one, did you say ? Doan nebber ask dat ques-
tion, Mars Mayfiel’. Ob course, 1 nebber did! De
good Lor’ *n mercy forbid dat! Amen. Why, it’s all
a man’s life’s worth to see a:Death’s-Head Monf. Mor’
’n dat ’’—here he lowered his voice to a deep whisper—
‘‘dey do say dat the good Lor’ He nebber made dai
critter at all! De ebil sperrits—de berry ole debbil
heself—’ceived de idee, an’ fabricated dat ting in de
darkest night obde year. Doan tellme! Idoan want
to see no sech doin’s. Doan you show me dem picters,
needer. No good luck ‘ll ebber come from paintin’
dem tings. How d’ye suppose de man dat drawed ’em
ebber libbed to do it widout some powerful conjurin’
and cahoots wid de ebil sperrits? Dar’s bad work
about dem books, I’se afeared.’? He pointed to the
work on natural history that lay on the table, open at
a page whereon several moths were figured.

“Aw that’s as true as preachin’!”’

It was Sarah’s voice that broke the silence that fol-
lowed Dan’s discourse, which found credulous hearers
among a good majority of our company. The cook had
gradually hitched her chair nearer and nearer to the
door, until, quite unable to withstand the fascination of
Dan’s superstitious remarks, as he lowered his voice
she rose from her seat and now stood in the doorway.
Her face was flushed with excitement, was wrought up
into an expression of terror, and as she spoke she
stretched out her arms like a prophetess,

VN \

\
NS \ \\\ Ky \
Vay
\ AY

NS
Ss
\\

S1G, 27.—THE SHADOW OF A MOTH.—p. 77.

79

80 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM,

‘‘Dan never said truer words, though he isn’t over-
stocked with sense, for that matter. There’s bad luck
in them moths any way you take ’em. I never low a
caterpillar to git into the house, and I wouldn’t for the
world. I tell you, I run for the broom quicker when I
see one a-coming. Why, if it spins its nasty cocoon in
the house it’s a sure sign that death’ll come, and no
tellin’ who'll be taken. If it gits in your clothes-
press, or anywhere, and spins on your dress, it’s a
certain warnin’ that youll wear a shroud before the
year’s out. “I’ve heerd that often, and jest know it’s
true. I don’t like all them things that Mr. Mayfield
has brought into the house, an’ I told ’im so, too!
There, I’ve said my say !?”

Whereupon the good woman again retired to the
shade of the kitchen-stove.

f glanced around the circle, and observed that the
countenances of my little audience showed varied emo-
tions. A mingled expression of amusement and disap-
probacicn sat upon the face of the Mistress ; evidently
her ideas of domestic discipline had received somewhat
of a shock. Abby could scarcely suppress the laughter
that played around her .lips. As for the rest, they
looked perplexed and sober, and it was easily seen that
the superstitions of Dan and Sarah had disturbed them.
Of course, I could not let the matter pass without some
explanation, and, as though divining my purpose, the
mistress disposed of Sarah by sending her into the cel-
lar for cider and apples.

‘We have been very fortunate this evening,’’ I

MOTHS AT THE FIRESIDE. 81

began, ‘‘in having living examples of the queer no-
tions which many people have formed about these poor
moths. Of course, they are mere superstitions, and
very absurd. You needn’t shake your head, Dan, it is
quite true; I shan’t try to straighten out such an old
fellow as you, but we mustn’t let these young people
fall into any such foolish beliefs. Im earlier times
people knew so little about natural history, and were so
filled with superstition generally, that they conceived
all manner of ridiculous ideas of the living things
around them, and their relations to man and his des-
tiny. We have learned better now ; we know these
birds, and beasts, and creeping things quite well; for
naturalists have studied their habits, and have inter-
preted, in a simple and natural way, many of the
strange sounds and sights that filled our forefathers
with awe. Let us dismiss all such idle fancies.”

‘* But what is this story of Dan’s, about the Death’s-
Head Moth ?” asked Abby. ‘‘I have heard something
of that kind before.”

‘* Here is the insect,’ I answered, turning to a figure
in the book before us. ‘‘ These white markings on a
dark thorax certainly have a striking resemblance to a
skull and cross-bones, and this has given the insect its
name (Manduca atropos); but, like all similar resem-
blances, it is simply one of the accidents of Nature. It
is a European moth, and Dan very accurately illustrates
the feelings with which it was formerly, and, indeed, is
now, regarded by many people. Latreille informs us
that the sudden appearance of these insects in a cer-

82 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

FIG. 28.— DEATH’S HEAD MOTH AND LARVA,

tain district of France, while the people were suffering
from an epidemic disease, was considered by many per-
sons the cause of the visitation. There is a quaint
superstition in England that the Death’s-Head Moth
has been very common in Whitehall ever since the
‘martyrdom’ of Charles I.

‘* The insect is widely distributed. I have seen fine
specimens from Germany, Africa, and Asia, in the col-
lections of Mr, Titian Peale and the American Ento-

ew hee

MOTHS AT THH FIRESIDE. 83

mological Society. (Fig. 28.) It is a fine insect,
perhaps the largest in Europe—the spread of wing
sometimes reaching six inches. The larva is enor-
mously large, sometimes five inches in length, and,
like our Five-spotted Sphinx, feeds upon the potato-
plant. The jessamine is aise a favorite food-plant.
But here is Sarah, with sweet cider and anvles, and
I see that Jenny is bringing us some cake. Suppose
we give ourselves a short recess, ‘in order to enjoy the
retreshment.’’

CHAPTER Vi.

PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA—A CHRONICLE OF
**OLD CLO’S’? AND WINDFALLS.

** PERMIT me to add my contribution to the museum,’’
said the Mistress, entering the room. She bore in her
hands a rug, which she hung over the back of a chair
close to the light. The little napless patches showing
here and there like islands in an ocean, revealed the
presence of that enemy of the housewife, the clothes-
moth. re

‘‘ Ah! here we have something interesting,’ I ex-
claimed. ‘‘ There is no one of all the Lepidoptera whose
habits better repay study than this little fellow.”?

‘* What a pity,’’ interrupted the Mistress, *“‘that so
many very interesting people and things in this world
have the misfortune to be such miserable transgressors !
Now, here are these little wretches who play such havec
with our carpets, furs and cloths, so attractive in their
characters that you natural philosophers all go off into
enthusiasm over them. How do you account for such
a seeming contradiction ?”’

‘*T allow that the little fellows are great rogues, and
suppose it must be Nature’s way to reconcile us to their

mischief by bestowing upon them such cunning habits.
84

FIG, 29,--THE MISTRESS’S CONTRIBUTION

86 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

Besides, what right have we to complain ? We slaughter
birds and beasts for feathers and furs ; we kill the silk-
moth to get us a gown, and then. think it hard if this
poor worm makes a few raids for food and clothing upon
our stolen finery ! No, no! we must be just, at least.
. However, let us look at this rug closely, and I think we
shall conclude that we have been well repaid for all our
loss here.

‘‘ There are several species of moths similar in habits,
whose caterpillars feed upon animal substances, such as
furs. woolens, silk and leather. Moreover, they are
dreadful depredators in the naturalist’s cabinet, devour-
ing his specimens remorselessly, so that you see I have
had occasion to practice the toleration and charity
which I preach. And why not? The creatures are
only fulfilling the mission imposed upon them by the |
great Author of their being—to purify the world of its
dead tissues.

“You might add to their virtues,” suggested Abby.
sarcastically, “the fact that they contribute largely to
increase the stock of the ‘ old clo’s ? merchant,.and thus
confer indirectly a favor on the poor by cheapening
clothing. ’’

“Thank you!” TI replied. ‘¢ Any championship is
welcome to a losing side, and many a true word has been
spoken in jes* ””

‘These moths belong to a family named Tinea by
entomologists, such as the tapestry moth (Tinea tapet-
zella), the fur-moth (Tinea pellionella), cabinet-moth
(Tinea destructor), and clothes-moth (Tinea nusticella).

PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 87

The species which has been at work upon this rug is:
probably Pellionella, the only ‘ clothes-moth ’ known in
the United States ae larva of which constructs a case
for its occupancy.

‘‘The moths themselves are very small, expanding
their wings not more than eight-tenths of an inch.
They are thus well fitted for making their way through
minute holes and chinks. If they cannot- find such a
tiny avenue into wardrobe or bureau, or fail of the
opportunity of an open drawer or door, they will con-
trive to glide through the keyhole. Once in, it is no
easy matter to dislodge them, for they are exceedingly
agile vermin, and escape out of sight in a moment.
The mother-insect deposits her eges on or near such
material as will be best adapted for the food of the
young, taking care to distribute them so that there may
be a plentiful supply and enough of room for each.”’

‘“Isn’t that a bit of pure maliciousness ?’? queried
the Mistress. ‘‘The mother, I suppose, scatters her
eggs so that her ravenous caterpillars may do all the
damage possible by attacking many parts of a garment
at the same time.”’

“That is a bit of pure maternal instinet.’? T answered.
‘“The mother-moth wisely arranges that all her off-
spring shall have a fair outset in life—enough to eat
and wear. When one of this scattered family issues
from the egg its first care is to provide itself with a
domicile, or, if you please, a dress. It belongs to that
class of caterpillars that feed under cover. TI once
placed one upon a desk covered with green cloth and

88 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

set myself to watch it. It wandered about for half a
day before it began operations. At last, having pitched
upon a proper site, it cut out a filament very near the
cloth, in order, I suppose, to have it as iong as possible,
and placed it on a line with its body. It then immedi-
ately cut another, and placing it parallel with the first,
bound both together with a few threads of its own siik.
The same process was repeated with other hairs, till
the little creature had made a fabric of some thickness,
and this it went on to extend till it was large enough to
cover its body. Its body, by-the-way, as is usual with
caterpillars, is employed as a model and measure for
regulating its operations.’

‘“‘That’s avery human trait,’’ said the Mistress ; “‘my
mother invariably used part of her body as a yard-
stick, measuring light material with outstretched arms,
or with one full-length arm, counting from chin to
fingers,”’ ,

‘Mother Bond does that still,’? ventured Harry.

ts Ah, well,’’ I said, ‘ perhaps by-and-by we may find
some starting-points for a bond of sympathy between
the ladies and even a clothes-moth! But to proceed.
My caterpillar made choice of longer hairs for the out-
side than for the inside, and the covering was at last
finished within by a fine and closely woven tapestry of
silk. TI could only see the progress of its work by look-
ing into the opening at either of the ends, for the cov-
ering was quite opaque and concealed the larva. In
weaving this lining the creature turns around by
doubling itself and bringing its head where the tail had

PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 89

AN KX ANC
\ . \ yy WWW

Gale
NE

uy

Zi

x

a

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iy TT

FIG. 30.—A CASE OF ‘OLD CLO’S’”? AND CHARITY.—p. 86.

been, the interior being left just wide enough for this
purpose.

“Tts dress being in this way complete, the body quite
covered, the larva begins to feed on the material of the
cloth, which you see is its ‘bed and board’ and ward-
robe besides. Soon, like a growing boy, our young Pel-
lioneila outgrows its clothes. As it has no father’s or
big brother’s worn suits to furnish inaterial, and no

90 TENANTS OF AN: OLD -TARM.

mother who has learned the art of Burns’ Scotch Cotter
who ‘ gars auld claes look amaist as weel’s the new,’ it
proceeds to enlarge its own garments. It sets to work
as dexterously as any tailor, slitting the coat or case on
the two opposite sides, and. then adroitly inserting be-
tween them two pieces of the requisite size. It man-
ages all this so as not to expose its body, never slitting
the whoie length of the coat at once.”’

‘Why,’ exclaimed Abby, ‘‘ the worm has learned the
mystery of a gore! Here is certainly a fair beginning
for that bond of sympathy of which you spoke be-
tween the clothes-moth and the dressmaking part of
womanhood !”’

‘‘Shall we congratulate the moth or the mantua-
maker on the connection ?”’ I asked,

‘*Really, I am not quite so sure with an answer
as I would have been a few moments ago. My re-
spect for the little wretches has vastly increased. I
don’t know how I shall muster courage to kill them
hereafter !”

‘‘ By taking advantage of this pecular genius for
patching,’’ I continued, °° or for gores, as Abby puts it,
clothes-moths have been forced to make their tubular
coats of divers’ colors and patterns. By shifting the
caterpillar from one colored cloth to another the re-
quired tints are produced, and the pattern is gained by
watching the creature at work, and transferring it at
the proper time. For example, a half-grown caterpillar
inay be placed upon a piece of bright green cloth.
After iz has made its tube, it may be shifted to a black

PELLI ONELLA AND POMONELLA. 91

eloth, and when it has cut the longitudinal slit and has
filled it up, it can be transferred to a piece of scarlet
cloth, so that the complementary colors of green and
scarlet are brought into juxtaposition and * thrown out’
by the contrast with the black. In this way the little
worm, by friendly human manipulation, may by-and-by
find itself arrayed, like the favorite son of Jacob, in ‘a
coat of many colors.’

‘The moth-worms pass the summer within these

silk-lined_ rolls, some carrying them about as they move

along, and others fastening them to the substance they
are eating. Concealed within these movable cases, or
lint-covered burrows, they ply their sharp reaping-hooks
amid the harvest of napery throughout the summer.
In the fall they cease eating, make fast their habita-
tions, and lie torpid during winter. Early in spring
they change to crysalids within their cases, and in about
twenty days thereafter are transformed to winged
moths, which fly about in the evening until they have
paired and are ready to lay eggs.

‘* We are indebted to the Mistress for another contri-
bution to our collection,”’ I continued, picking up an
apple from the dish. ‘‘ This littie brown hole in the
side of our noble fruit suggests the story of a life. Do
you know what made this opening, Joe ?”’

‘* Oh, yes, sir,’ was the ready response, ‘‘ it is where
an apple-worm got in, and you'll find it at the core.”’

‘Partly right and partly wrong. The apple-worm
did make the hole, but this is not where it entered the
fruit, and we shall not be likely to find it inside, al-

92 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

though it is just possible that we may. However, let
us cut the apple in half and see. Here, you observe, is
a little burrow curving through the core between the
eye (Fig. 31) and the hole in the skin, and branching
off at the center, piercing the
apple again at a point above.
The worm that ate out this bur-
row is the caterpillar of the
codling-moth, Carpocapsa pomo-
nella. It is a small insect, its
wings expanding three-fourths
of an inch; they have the ap-

pearance of brown watered silk,

FIG. 31.—BURROW OF ; é :
APPLE-WORM. and’ on the hinder margin of

each of the forewings is a large
oval brown spot, edged with copper-color. The hind-
wings and abdomen have the lustre of satin.”

“Why is it called the codling-moth ?” asked the
Mistress.

‘Suppose we refer that to the Schoolma’am,’” I
answered.

‘‘Suppose we refer it to the dictionary,” said
Abby, taking down the beok from the shelf. ‘* Here
iG 1s 27:

‘** Codlin, or codling ’—spelled with one d, by-the-
way—‘ Animmature apple.’ And here are uses of the
word, one by Shakespeare: ‘ A codling when ’tis al-
most an apple ;’ and one by King, ‘ In cream and cod-
iings reveling with delight.’ I confess that is quite
new tome. My notions of the word savored chiefly of

PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 93

our New England staple, codfish—codling, a young cod.
What a useful book a dictionary is !”

“‘- Yes, when one has learned the art of using it. Had
you looked further you would probably have found that
cod is an old word for pod. An apple is simply an edi-
ble pod, the case that contains the seed ofa tree. Now
we may vet back to our story. :

‘* Pomonella is an immigrant, not a native American ;
she was imported to this country about the beginning
of this century, and has so well improved her time and
opportunities that her progeny may be found in nearly
the whole of North America.”’

‘* Whence did she come ?”? asked Abby.

‘“From Europe, directly, at least, to us.”?

‘““There! I am glad to learn that,’ returned the
Schoolma’am, ‘‘T shall make good use of the fact when
T next hear of America’s viciousness in sending the
Colorado potato-beetle to England.”

““'Well,’? said the Mistress, ‘‘ didn’t we send the
‘potato first ? Surely, our cousins should share with us
the entomological ‘ trimmings.’ ”’

‘* All of which,’’ I resumed, ‘‘ would scarcely recom-
pense our apple-growers for great loss inflicted upon
their orchards. There are two broods of insects every
year. The early brood appears about the time of apple-
blossoms, having spent the winter in the larval state.
In spring the larvee change into brown crysalids ;
shortly after, the moths appear. The female moths
seek the young fruit just as it is forming, and deposit
their ‘tiny, yellow eggs in the calyx or eye, that is, the

94 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

blossom end of the apple. Only one egg is laid on each
apple, but as the mother has about fifty eggs to dispose
of, you may suppose that a few wide-awake and healthy
females can make sad havoe with a crop.”’ 3

‘‘ Ain’t the same apples visited by more’n one
moth ??? asked Hugh.

“‘ Sometimes two worms will be found in one apple ;
but this is quite rare, and the fact commonly illustrates
the force and wisdom of the maternal instinet that
directs the moth.

‘* The eggs begin to hatch in about a week after they
are laid, and the little caterpillars produced from them
immediately burrow into the apples, making their way
gradually from the eye toward the core. The caterpil-
lar is of a whitish color ; its head is heart-shaped and
black ; the top of the first ring or collar and of the last
ring is also black, and there are eight little blackish
dots or warts arranged in pairs on each of the other
rings. As the larva grows the body becomes flesh-
colored, the black parts turn brown, and the dots dis-
appear. ‘In the course of three weeks, or a little more,
it comes to full size, and meanwhile has burrowed to
the core and through the apple in various directions,
The larva is so small at first that its presence can

only be detected by the brownish powder that it

pushes out in eating its way through the eye. This
is made up of the ‘ castings’ or exuvie of the worm,
and is a sure sign of infected fruit, as it often clings
to the apple.”’

‘True enough |’? exclaimed Hugh. ‘*T’ve often seed

PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 95

4
e,
oe

them reddish-brown
erains on worm-eaten
apples, but never know’d
w’at it was. But w’at’s
the idee in dumpin’
’em out this a-
way ?”

ie Simply a wish
to get rid of the
refuse. Our cater-
pillar is a very tidy housekeeper,
and cleans its little habitation
with a zeal that the ladies at
least will commend. As itgrows
older it enlarges its quarters to

suit its increased size, and gener-

ally makes ‘a second opening or

door through the

‘ FIG. 32.—COCOON, PUPA, FEMALE AND
LARVA OF THE CODLING MOTH, AND
out of which frag- A PARASITIC ICHNEUMON-FLY,.

side of the apple,

96 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

ments of food are cast. The effect of all these opera-
tions is to ripen the apple before its time, and hence
we have what are known as ‘ wind-falls,’ although
the wind is not necessary to bring down the precocious
fruit, for it tumbles in the stillest weather. These
worm-eaten apples are gathered up by basketfuls, and
are among the earliest brought to our markets.”’

“That is so,’’ said Hugh ; ‘‘ and, now I think of it,
we get such good prices for these early wind-falls that
I doubt whether the apple-worm does as much harm
as I’d thought. Many’s the hard word I’ve said
agin the little beggars, an’ I reckon J’ll take some of
?em back.”

‘(What has become of the worm ?” asked Abby,
who had been carefully picking out the burrows in the
cut apple. ‘‘ There is certainly no trace of larva or
crysalis here.”’

‘* True, and for a quite sufficient reason. When the
apples drop, and sometimes while they are still hang-
ing, our codlings escape through the opening in the side
(Fig. 32) and creep into chinks in the bark of the trees,
or into other sheltered places, which they hollow out
with their teeth to suit their shape. Here each one
spins for itself a cocoon or silken case as thin, delicate,
and white as tissue paper. This is disguised or pro-
tected on the outside by attaching to silky threads smali
fragments of the bark of the tree or other available
particles. (Fig. 32.)

‘“Three days after the completion of the cocoon the
larva changes to a crysalis. The pupa is a pale yellow

PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 97

color at first, which deepens in a day or two to pale
brown. Two weeks thereafter the transformation is
complete, and the imago or perfect moth escapes. This
event occurs about the middle or latter part of July.
Then follows the wedding-day, and in a few days more
the female begins to deposit her eggs for the late brood
of larvee, the late appies being generally selected for this
purpose. These larvee mature during the. autumn or
early winter months. Sometimes they crawl out or
swing themselves out before the apples are gathered, in
which case they seek some sheltered nook under the
loose bark of a tree, or other convenient hiding-place.
But if carried with the fruit into the cellar, they of
course spin their cocoons upon the boxes, bins, barrels,
or walls.”’

**T have it now !’? exclaimed Hugh, abruptly. ‘‘ Beg
your pardon, sir, but I’d been tryin’ to think, w’ile you
was tellin’ about them cocoons, w’ere I’d seen sich ob-
jecks, ’n I jest happened to remember. Las’ winter I
found hundreds of em spun up betwixt the staves and
hoops of the apple bar’ls. I noticed ’em as a cur’us
thing, but didn’t know w’at to make of ’em, and never
tho’t of ’°em ag’in until now. Them was apple-worms ;
I’m sure of it now.”’

““T have no doubt of it, Hugh ; and you provided
them with snug winter-quarters, and then allowed them
to escape, to come out last spring by companies to infest
the apples. But you’il know better another time, I
dare say.”’ |

“That I wiil, sir; and I’ll pass the hint around

98 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

among my neighbors, too. There’s a worm that bores
into the pears, pretty much in the same way as the
apples. Is that the same varmint ?”

‘‘Yes; the apple-worm is very destructive to the
pear, and is also found on the wild crab, and occasion-
ally on the plum and peach. And now I believe that I
‘have finished the story of Pomonella and how she
punctures our apples.”

‘‘ A very pretty tale it is, too,’’ said Abby, looking
up with a bright smile. ‘‘ One of my classes was read-
ing yesterday the legend of William Tell and the
Apple, and I have just been wondering whether some
of our myth-hunting critics and historians. might not
find the origin of that favorite story in the adventures
of a codling-moth! I can fancy the mother Pomonella
personating the tyrant Gessler, and imposing upon our
Caterpillar—the William Tell of Insect-world, you
know—the destiny of forever piercing apples !”

‘But what will you have to represent the Switzer’s
little boy ?”’ I asked,

‘“Oh, the apple-bough, of course ; and how nicely
the idea of youth’s immature age harmonizes with our
definition of a ‘codling’—the punctured, immature
fet 122

‘‘ At all events,’ said the Mistress, when the laugh
at Abby’s sally had ceased, ‘‘ your mothical Tell main-
tains the legendary hero’s reputation for archery. It
rarely fails to ‘bring down’ the apple. But, really, I
didn’t know that our schoolmistress had such a genius

for the so-called ‘ higher criticism |’ ”’

PELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 99

FIG. 35..—A MOTHICAL VERSION OF TELL AND THE
: APPLE. :

‘*Can you tell, please,’? asked Hugh, who had not
quite grasped our by-play and evidently wanted some-
thing more practical, ‘‘ how to get rid of the worms ?
I’ve tried smokin’ them out, burnin’ weeds under the
trees, but tiat,don’t seem to amount to much,”’

100 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘‘ Of course, any smoking, to be effective, should be
done in the season when the moths are laying their
eges. That may smother or drive away the mothers.
T would recommend carefully scraping off the loose and
rugged bark of the trees in the spring, in order to de-
stroy the crysalids. Perhaps the most effective plan is
the old-fashioned band-trap. A band of old cloth ora
twist of common brown paper is wound around or hung
in the crotches of the trees, or wrapped about the trunk.
In these the appie-worms wiil conceal themselves, and
thus great numbers of the larva and cocoons may be
taken and destroyed from the time when they first
begin to leave the apples, during the last of May, until
the fruit is gathered. Of course, the bands should be
often examined. ‘There is one precaution, however,
that is certainly very useful. As the larvee leave the
fruit soon after it drops from the trees, the wind-fallen
apples should be gathered up daily and such immediate
use made of them as will be sure to kill the insects
before they have time to escape.”’

“Oh, dear!’ cried Abby, laughing, “‘that means
fresh—cider /’? and she pointed to our empty glasses.
‘‘Shan’t I help you to a little more? You must be
thirsty from talking.”’

‘* Certainly ; you shall not destroy my relish for the
drink even though you make it sure that Hugh and
Dan did put a few worm-eaten apples into the mill. I
am reminded of a remark that I recently heard Dr.
Joseph Leidy make at a meeting of the Philadelphia
Academy of Natural Sciences. He had been making a

PHELLIONELLA AND POMONELLA. 101

communication upon a certain large parasitic worm

whose ‘host’ is our famous ‘ Delaware shad,’ and con-
cluded by saying that a portion of the fish—which I
forbear to name out of respect for the epicures—that is
considered the most delicious morsel of all, owes its
delicate flavor to the presence of this parasite! ‘I
suppose,’ said the distinguished naturalist, ‘that our
shad-loving friends would cease to relish-this tidbit if
they only knew the facts. But, then, why should they ?
—for the parasite is composed of pure shad, and nothing
more.’ So I say of——”

‘*Oh, you needn’t explain,’’ interrupted the Mistress,
‘the application is quite obvious. But for the benefit
of the rest of the family, if not for your sake, I beg to
say that Hugh has strict instructions to use only sound
apples for cider.”’

“True enough, ma’am,”’’ said the farmer ; ‘‘and you
may be sure that we are all very careful. Miss Abby
says that takin’ care of win’-falis means cider. Not at
all, ma’am ; it means good feed for the pigs and for the
cows, too, for that matter.”

**T recant, I recant,’’ cried Abby ; ‘‘ and so encour:
aged, I also will renew my glass.”’

CHAPTER VII.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

' “T HOPE yo’s gwine to hab mo’ ob dem talks ’boouw’
de insecks, Mars Mayfiel’.”’

So Dan greeted me a few days after our first fireside
meeting. He twirled his battered hat brim through
his horny hands, then rubbed a white palm against the
back of his grizzied locks, ducked his head forward and
continued: ‘‘I doan jes kno’ w’at yo’d call ’em, sah,
but Sary Ann ‘lowed dey’s say-an’-says. ‘ An’ w’at are
say-an’-says, Sary Ann?’ says I. ‘ Wal,’ says she,
‘dey ’s a sort ob free an’ easy kine o’ talk, w’ar yo
says, an’ den I says, an’ all jine in an’ helps de talk
along. Now dat’s a powerful pleasant kine ob affar,
Mars Mayfield, an’ suits us ’ns heap better ’n loafin’
roun’ de kentry store, an’ sich. So we uns—dat’s
Hugh’s folks an’ Sary Ann an’ me—we makes bold to
ax yo, wouldn’t yo ’low us de priv’lege ob jinin’ in de
say-an’-says, in case yo gwine to hab mo’ ob ’em, an’
we sincerely hope yo is.”’

““Why, Dan, I hadn’t thought much about it,” 1
answered. ‘‘ But you may be sure if there should be
any more ‘ say-an’-says,’ you all will be welcome to the
fireside.”

‘*T’ank yo, sah; we’s all powe’ful ’bleeged to yuh,
302

MEASURH FOR MEASURE. 103

| We
ve

|
|

lias

wih

FIG. 34.—THE GEOMETRID HORROR.—p. 104.

an’ hopes we’ll hab de pleasure ob yo company at
anoder conbersashull family fireside say-an’-say, bery
soon.”’

Although I laughed at Dan’s magniloquence, I was
more gratified at that hearty honest approval of my
humble dependents than I had often been before at
commendations of cultured friends. ‘To be sure, I
learned by-and-by that the Mistress was also in the
plot, and that Dan’s praises were in good part an echo
of her promptings ; but the pleasure of the moment
was not dimmed by that knowiedge. Thus it came
about that the next Saturday eyening found our house-

104 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

hold gathered in the old sitting-room for another ento-
mological ‘séance.? Where Sarah had picked up that
word, and how she had managed to transform it. we
never learned, but we were all so impressed with the
superiority of her version, that the cook’s title was at
once naturalized, and ‘the Tenant’s Say-an’says’ be-
came one of the current phrases of our little realm when
we were in a merry mood. |

‘¢T have here a specimen,’’ I began, ‘‘ plucked from
a straggling sprig of wood-wax or dyer’s weed (Genista
tinctoria) which represents a very familiar race of cater-
pillars, the Geometers, or span-worms. They are so
called from the mode of walking peculiar to the larve.
Most of these have only ten legs, six of which are
jointed and tapering, under the fore part of the body,
and four fleshy prop legs at the hinder extremity.
There are no legs on the middle of the body, and con-
sequently the caterpillars are unable to crawl in the
usual manner. When one wishes to advance it orasps
the object firmly with its fore feet, and then draws up
the hind feet close to them, not unlike the attitude
of a cat which meets a strange dog. The hinder
feet then take a firm hold and the body is projected
forward until: the fore feet can repeat the process,
This mode of progression is popularly called ‘loop-
ing,’ and the caterpillars are called ‘ loopers.’

** The Geometers live as larvee on trees and bushes, and
most of them undergo their transformations in the
ground, to reach which by traveling along the branches
and down the trunk by their peculiar gait would be a

ee eee ee en eae

MEASURE FOR MHASURE. 105

long and tedious journey. But they are not reduced

to this necessity, for they have the power of letting —

themselves down from any height by means of a silken
thread which they spin from their mouths while falling.
Whenever they are disturbed they make use of this

FIG. 30.—NOTOLOPHUS LEUCOSTIGMA, TUSSOCK MOTH. MALE,
FEMALE AND LARVA, NATURAL SIZE.—p. 106.

faculty, drop down suddenly and hang suspended till
the danger is past, after which they climb up again by
the same thread.”’

‘These, then,’’ said the Mistress, ‘‘are the little

106 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

creatures that used to make a promenade along our
streets in summer a horror to ladies before the advent
of the sparrows ?”’

‘* The very same ; but I doubt whether citizens have
made a favorable exchange for the pretty hairy creeper,
caterpillar of the Tussock-moth (Notolophus leucostigma)
(Fig. 35), that now fills the squares, fences and walls

t

with its knobby white cocoons.” (Hig. 36.)

‘Why, don’t the sparrows eat
them, too ?”? asked Abby.

‘* Ah, a mere question of taste.
The soft, smooth, Geometers are
a dainty bit to the birds, and the
plumed crawlers are not at all
to their liking. Why, I have
seen the very bird-boxes in the
public square covered with the
Tussock-moth’s cocoons—crown-
ed with their white egg-masses.
Were the caterpillars crawling

at their very doors, and their

hungry fledglings gaping for food,

FIG. 36.

the parent birds would come
COCOON OF TUSSOCK
MOTH, NATURAL size. home without supplies rather
than forage upon the Orgyia
worms. So the larvee breed securely-and in yearly
inereasing numbers.
‘Tf a little wise energy and forethought could be
shown by the city authorities in this matter, the evil

could soon be remedied, The chief sites of these cocoons

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 107

are the iron fences around the squares, the trunks of trees,
the walls and fence cornices of adjacent properties. If
these were thoroughly cleansed, the cocoons scraped out
and burned in winter, there would be a scant crop of
span-worms in summer. For several years I have
watched these troublesome cocoons adyancing a little
further each season up the trunks of the trees and mul-
tiplying along public places, and [ have more than once
predicted that the nuisance would ere long be well-nigh
intolerable. But an American city, like Issachar among
the tribes, is a ‘strong ass crouching down between two
burdens,’ who sees ‘that rest is good’ and ‘ bows bis
shoulders to bear,’ and hardly even exercises the healthy
Anglo-Saxon right of grumbling at official ignorance
and neglect. So canker-worms—not those alone which
are comparatively harmless, but those of the moral,
secial and political sort—breed in public places, crawl
unmolested through every highway and byway, and spin
and nest inall departments of communal administration
and life. Alas! Well, ‘a stitch in time saves nine.’ ”’

5

‘‘And there are some citizens,’’ cried the Mistress,
apparently quite oblivious of my figurative speech
and philosophy, and reverting to the encroachments
of the Orgyia, ‘‘ who allow those dreadful worms
to crawl up their very walls and doorways and build
cocoons under the mouldings and ledges of doors and
windows quite unmolested. I see hundreds of them
housed in such places the entire year. Such house-keep-
ing! .t can’t understand how ladies will tolerate it.’’

‘‘ Perhaps,’’ suggested Abby, “‘ they tolerate the

108 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

worms out of the same mercifulness from which they feed
the vixenish sparrows who refuse to kill the worms.”’

‘* A truce to our moralizing,’’ I said; ‘‘ let us return
to our span-worm hanging from the tree. The manner
in which it ascends its thread is most interesting. - In
order to do this it bends back its head and catches hold
of the thread above its head with one of the legs of the
third segment of the body. It then raises its head and
seizes the thread with its jaws and forelegs, and by
repeating the same operations with tolerable rapidity it
soon reaches its former station on the tree.

There is another interesting habit which these Geom-
eters possess ; when not eating, many of them can rest
on the two hindermost pairs of legs against the side of a
branch, and stretching out the body nearly horizontally
remain in that position for hours, so that they might easiy
be mistaken for the twig of a tree. If Joe and Harry
would like to get some slight idea of the muscular force
required to perform this action, let them grasp an up-
right pole with their hands and try to hold the body
out horizontally. The feats of trained gymnasts in the
circus ring or turnverein are fairly outdone by these
despised span-worms. I think that you will agree with
me that they are interesting little fellows. Moreover,
notwithstanding the disgust with which, as the Mistress
says, the city folk used to regard them as they dropped
from the trees, I venture that there are plenty of people
who would rather welcome their presence than other-
wise. Perhaps some of our young people can tell us
why ?”?

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 109

Cee edit. sir,”
Harry answered
promptly. ‘‘ Jenny
used to say that it
was a sign we were
goin’ to git a new
coat when one ot
them caterpillars
was seen steppin’
off distance on our

FIG. 37.—-OUR IMPORTED PROTECTORS, MUTUAL DISGUST.—p. 106.

English Sparrow to Irish Guardian of American Peace—‘‘ Do your
own nahsty work, sir; H’english sparrows, sir, didn’t come ’ere to eat
hup your nahsty H’american worms !”’

arms or back. We call them ‘measurin’ worms’ on
that account.”’ 3

‘* Yes, that is the idea: a new coat when seen meas-
aring the arms or back, a new pair of gloves when seen
looping on the hand, and so through the whole suit.
I fear that, like many another local prophet, their
promise is better than their fulfillment. However, we

110 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

cannot deny that in the proper season they are very
diligent in suggesting the subject of new clothes to all
passers-by who credit their prophetic office.”’

‘‘ A quality, by-the-way,’’ said Abby, ‘‘ which they
share in common with the ‘ Barkers’ in front of Market
Street and Chatham Street clothing stores. And, like
_* Barkers,’ I imagine that their attentions are more
respected by country folk than city people.”’

‘‘Here is another of the Looper trite, or rather a
mother-moth, which fortunately I have been able to
collect. I have two specimens, and they are mounted
upon this bit of cork. Pass them around the circle and
let all have a good look at them. They are not very
familiar creatures in their
moth or perfect form, but
they are quite too well
known in the larval state.
Come, Miss Abby, you seem
to be studying that speci-
men very closely, and mean-
while Hugh is anxious to
and will be much

Secumlue

more so when he learns what

it iss What is the matter

FIG. 595.— A MOTHER
MOTH.

now 2” I asked, as the
Schoolteacher shook her
head and handed the insect to Hugh, with an incredul-
ous ‘Humph!’ ‘‘My poor moth appears to have ex-
cited your indignation !”’ (Fig. 38.)

‘“ Truly so,’’ replied Abby. ‘‘I confess myself a tyro

Ee

WMEASURE FOR MEASURE. 111

fae

= — VF Vy
Us iN | ZA
NE SIME?

nn,
NE >
ty,
mS s

ed

ak je

FIG. 39.—A GEOMETRID TURNVEREIN.—?. 105.

in all branches of entomology, and it would be a sorry
victory for a specialist who should impose on me. But
really, I think that I have iearned enough even within
the last few days to prevent you palming that creature
upon me as a moth. Why, it doesn’t resemble that in-
sect in the least.”’

112 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘* So say I,”’ echoed the Mistress.

‘* And what says Hugh ?” I asked, as the sturdy fel-
low turned the insect around slowly and carefully scru-
tinized it on all sides,

** Well, sir, I—I begin to find that I know so leetle
*bout the commonest sorts 0’ critters that I don’t like
to venture a ’pinion. But ef that’s a moth, I reckon
you ’ve pulled its wings off.

‘Not a bad guess,’’ I said, laughing. ‘‘ But I assure
you that it 7s a moth, and that I have not pulled its wings
off. However, not to keep you in suspense, I may tell
you that in certain species of moths the female is wing-
less. The pretty feathered caterpillar that we spoke of
a little while ago as now infesting our public squares
has a wingless mother. This is another example ; it is
a veritable moth, the female of a species known as the
orchard moth (Anisopteryx pometaria, Harris), a variety
perhaps of the vernal moth (Paleacrita vernata, Pack-
ard). It is the mother of our northern canker-worm.”’

‘‘'The canker-worm? Indeed !”’ exclaimed Hugh. ‘‘ Let
me look at the creatur’ again, please. Well, well! who
would have tho’t such pestiferous gangs uy varmin “d
a-sprung from a mite uv a beast like that!’ (Fig. 40.)

** For my part,’’ said the Mistress, “I think her
quite ugly enough to be the mother of any kind of
odious creature. Moreover, I shall owe her an addi-
tional grudge because our good professor here used her
to victimize so mercilessly his confiding pupils. Think
what our Schoolma’am—”’

‘*Oh, dear, no!’ interrupted Abby, smiline good-

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 113

naturedly. ‘‘I decidedly deserved it; and, besides, I
' practice similar modes of impressing facts upon my
pupils, and as it serves admirably, I can’t complain in
this case. JI am sure
that I, at least, will not
forget that some mother-
moths are wingless.”’
‘“Very good, then;
since I am fully ab-
solved, I may resume
our story. I captured
these specimens as they
were making their way
up one of our apple
trees, having just left

ps ann . = .
FIG. 40.—ORCHARD MOTH, WING- the ground in which
LESS FEMALE, WINGED MALE, they had matured. It

AND LARVA.
was formerly supposed
that the canker-worm moths came out of the ground
only in the spring. It is now known that many of
them rise in the autumn and early part of the win-
ter. In mild and open winters I have seen them in
every month from October to March. They begin to
make their appearance after the first hard frosts in the
Fall, usually toward the end of October and continue to
come forth in numbers according to the mildness of
the weather after the frosts have begun.
‘*‘ However, their general time of rising is in the
spring, beginning about the middle of March, and they
continue to come forth for the space of about three

114 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

weeks. The sluggish females instinctively make their .

way to the nearest trees, and creep slowly up their
trunks. Their husbands, having better facilities for
traveling, inasmuch as they are winged, delay their ad-
vent a few days, when they also leave their earthen
cells and join the females, fluttering about and accom-
panying them in their ascent. :

‘*Soon after this the females lay their eggs upon the
branches of the trees. They place them on their ends
close together in rows, forming clusters of from sixty
to one hundred eggs or more, which is the number
usually laid by each female. The eggs are glued te
each other and to the bark by a grayish varnish which
is impervious to water; and the clusters are thus
securely fastened in the forks of the small branches, or
close to the young twigs and buds. The eggs are
usually hatched between the first and the middle of
May, or about the time that the red currant is in
blossom and the young leaves of the apple-tree begin to
start from the bud and grow. The little canker-worms,
upon making their escape from the eggs, gather upon
the tender leaves and begin to eat. If there comes a
snap of cold, and during rainy weather, they creep fore
shelter into the bosom of the bud, or into the flowers
when they appear. The leaves first attacked will be
found pierced with small holes ; these become larger and
more irregular when the canker-worms increase in size,
and at last nearly all the pulpy parts are consumed,
leaving little more than the midrib and veins.

‘*'The worms when well fed grow to be an inch long ;

Wr

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ii

.% \

| ea j ‘ag geal J

Al Mi nn . Lag Hu at ta i ul f
Ace

a),

i NH
Uf
: az

—— a -~
mana U3 =
> = SiN
= Take

FIG. 41.—THE CLOTHES BARKER’S PARADISE.—p. 110.

they quit eating when about four weeks old, and begin
to leave the trees ; some creep down by the trunk, but
great numbers let themselves down by threads from the
branches, their instinct prompting them to get to the
ground by the most direct and easiest course.”’

“Oh, yes,”’ said Joe, ‘‘ I have seen them hanging that
way from the branches that jut across the road. It
kept us dodging to get rid uv ’em as we drove along.”

*¢ Aye, and I doubt not you helped nature in distribut-
ing the little fellows along the road-side, for they lay
hold upon passing objects and are carried goodly dis-
tances before shaken off. When they reach the ground
they immediately burrow in the earth to the depth ot

116 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

from two to six inches, and make little cavities or cells
by turning around repeatedly and fastening the loose
grains of earth about them with a few silken threads.
Within twenty-four hours afterward, they are changed
to crysalids in their cells, where, as we have seen, they
transform in the autumn and winter as well as spring.
They usually come out of the ground in the night, when
the females may be seen straggling through the grass
from various points of the area bounded by the spread
of the branches, and making toward the trunk.”’

‘You didn’t tell us what becomes of the mother-
moths,’’ suggested Harry.

‘**'There is little more to be said about them, for they
are very short-lived; when they have laid their eggs
they begin to languish, and soon die.”’ :

‘*'You spoke of the worms takin’ to the apple-trees,”’
said Hugh, ‘‘ but I find thet they aren’t very pertikler in
their tastes, so’s they kin git a holt ’v suthin’ thet
damages the farmer. I’ve found ’em on the cherry and
plum, and they ’re special fond uv the elm.”’

‘That is true; and you might extend their bill of fare
to some other cultivated and native trees, as well as
many shrubs.”’

*‘ Is this the canker-worm of which we read in the
Bible ?’’ asked the Mistress. ‘‘ Itseems to have been a
great scourge to the people of Palestine and those parts.’

‘*It is not easy to answer that question. ‘The exact
meanings of words used in the Hebrew Testament to
express all forms of animal life, are hard to determine.
Some have supposed the word translated ‘canker.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 117

worm’ to refer to the locust or at least to the larva of
the locust ; but the words rendered ‘ palmer-worm’ and
‘caterpillar’? seem to have had reference to some species
of canker-worm.”’

‘“*T should like it amazingly if you could tell me how
to get rid of the varmin,’’ remarked Hugh.

‘* Practical entomology is not much in my line,” I
answered, ‘‘and I fear that such a theme would not
greatly interest the majority of our little circle. ‘But I |
can tell you of an ancient remedy that was supposed to
be very effective. In the early part of the seventeenth
century the peasants in many piaces in Germany took
this mode: they pulled a stake from a hedge, looped
around it a rope which they rapidly drew back and
forth until the friction kindled it into a flame. This
they carefully fed with stubble and dry wood. When
che bonfire had quite burned out the peasants collected
the ashes and spread them over their garden vegetables,
confident that by this means they could drive away the
canker-worm. This fire they called the ‘ Nodfeur,’
or, aS we might say, the ‘ Need-fire.’ ”’

‘“You don’t mean to say, sir,’? asked Hugh, ‘that
you think the Nodfeur ashes really did any good in
keeping off the canker-worms ?”’

~* Why not ?”’ I inquired.

“Tut, tut !’? exclaimed the Mistress.- ‘‘I am sure
you don’t indorse any such nonsense. It was pure
superstition that prompted the custom, and you haven’t
much of that element in your mental make-up, I know
well.”

118 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

“The question,’ I rejoined, ‘‘ was not whether the
custom originated in or was maintained by superstition,
but whether the Nodfeur ashes were beneficial ; and I
answer that confidently in the affirmative. If one were to
sprinkle such material upon the vegetables when covered
_ with the morning dew it would adhere to the leaves and

thus make them distasteful to the caterpillars. This
says nothing of the effect of the potash in the ashes,
which may be injurious, nor of the dislike of larve and,
indeed, of many insects to move over surfaces covered
with pulverized matter. I attribute nothing at all, of
course, to the effect of the fetich, but much to the protec-
tion given by making the natural food-plant obnoxious
to the worms.

‘There is another element which enters into the
utility of this and all like remedies. Many years ago
T read an incident which illustrates my thought. I re-
peat it from memory, and cannot vouch fer all the de-
tails, but give the substance of the story as I remember
‘it. A noble German lady found that despite her best
endeavor there was a vast wastage in her household and
a consequent trenching upon her limited income. At
last she went to a hermit famous for godliness and
wisdom, and asked for a charm to protect her from
this grief. The good man gave her a little sealed box,
containing the required charm, instructing her to place
the same in one corner of every room in her house and
out-buildings once every day, varying as much as pos-
sible the hour of her daily visit. He bade her, also,
return at the end of a year to report results,

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 119

‘“A year passed and the lady returned with good

news and a grateful offering. The charm had wrought -

wonders. Her household was never in such goodly
condition, the wastage had stopped, the continua! anx-
iety over insufficient income had ceased, her husband
' was delighted, her neighbors full of praise. She begged
for a renewal of the charm, declaring that she would
not be without it for much money.

‘The monk broke the seal and showed the contents
of the box. It was empty! ‘See,’ he said, ‘ there is
nocharm here! That which has wrought the good re-
sults over which you rejoice, has been your own care
for every part of your house. As you went to each
room you saw what was needed and supplied it, what
was wrong and righted it. Your eyes were upon all your
men and maids, as well as on their work every day, and
they felt the influence of this oversight. There has
been no other charm than this, and you need no other.
Go, lady, and henceforth hold faithfully to the rule and
habit of the past year, and be assured that your home
will be a well-ordered, prosperous and happy one.’ ”’

‘*Truly.’’ said the Mistress, ‘‘that was a wise old
monk. I can vouch for it that a constant personal
inspection of all one’s house, especially of the cuddies
and corners, will work like a charm toward good
housekeeping. But really, I don’t quite take the ap-
- plication of your story to the German peasants and
their canker-worms.”’

“Indeed! Then you are not apt as usual to see a
point. In fighting insect pests it is precisely as in

120 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

housekeeping. The constant oversight of every plant
discovers the destroyer and ieads to its prompt destruc-
tion. The man who daily visits his growing vegetables,
with or without ashes or other preventive, will see the
canker-worms and kill them. Nor does once going over
- the crop serve. The worms are legion; each day has its
own host, which must be met that day before devasta-

tion begins. I have the notion that the old-time ~

Nodfeur custom may have looked also to this point.
Perhaps some wise observer, who knew that men will
often maintain good habits better under the spur of a
superstiticn than the stimulus of simple good sense and
experience, may have set his neighbors to defend their
crops by the invention of a bit of supposed harmless
superstition. Or, more likely, the superstition gradually
grew around what was originally only a wise rule of
successful horticulture.’

“Well, sir,”? remarked Hugh, |* You ‘re quite rien:
in thinkin’ that constant watchin’ is the great thing in
raisin’ garden sass. I’ve had the best kind o’ luck in
the very worst years for worms and bugs, jist by goin’
over and over the wines. I knock off the critters into a
pan an’ then kill ’em, It ’s a good deal 0’ trouble, but
ef a man wants wegetables he-’s got to do it, I reckon.
There ’s allus a few days w’en the varmin is particlar
bad, an’ by standin’ to ’t mornin’ and eyvenin’ durin’
those days a feller 71l come out purty well.”’

CHAPTER VIII.
INSECT TROGLODYTES.

ONE of our favorite walks, during these autumn days,
leads across the meadow, down the hill-slope, over the
brooklet, and so, by a rocky steep beyond, through a
thick woods to the banks of Crum creek. On the oc-
casion of which I am now to write my companion was
an elderly clerical friend, the Rey. Dr. Goodman. The
Doctor is a noble example of the old-time clergyman.
His tall, sturdy frame, scarcely bowed by his seventy
years, is always robed in becoming black, never, in any
contingency, omitting the indispensable dress-coat. His
full curly white hairs fall upon his neck beneath a
broad-brimmed black hat, a compromise between the
Quaker pattern and a Yankee wide-awake. His strong,
benignant face is clean-shaved, and his well-turned chin,
just verging upon the ‘** double,”’ is lifted above a broad,
white choker, between the wide-apart points of an old-
fashioned standing collar. In these latter days his
waistcoat has expanded somewhat above a growing
rotundity, and beneath it a yoodly fobchain protrudes.
The gold watch to which it dangles, and the portly
gold-headed cane which he carries, are both the gifts
of his warmly-attached parishioners. His salary is
modest. enough, though somewhat more generous than

Goldsmith’s parson, *‘ passing rich with forty pounds a
gel

122 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

year ;’? but as his church owns a cozy manse and ample
glebe, he lives contentedly and even comfortably, with
his wife and two daughters. His home is at Marple, six
miles across the hills, and he has driven over to spend a
night at the Old Farm and renew a pleasant friendship
formed during seasons when one summer had been spent
within his parish,

As his rumbling old carryall turned down our avenue
behind the fat, chestnut-bay horse whose lazy jog-trot
is known through all the country side, the familiar sight
stirred up very pleasant thoughts.

‘* My dear Doctor,’’ I exclaimed, greeting him at the
gate, ‘‘ you are welcome, indeed! To what fair fortune
are we indebted for this pleasant surprise ?”’

The good minister was altogether too guileless to ward
off this direct query without uncovering the truth. He
blushed, hesitated and glanced appealingly at the Mis-
tress, who had now joined in the greeting.

‘* Ah! I see how it is,”’ I said, coming to the relief of
the embarrassed parties ; ‘““another conspiracy in my
behoof !”’

** Just so, just so!’? exlaimed the Doctor, nodding
his head with unction, while his face beamed a happy
smile. ‘‘ And I’m heartily glad the cat’s out of the
bag, although I suspect this particular cat is a very
harmless kitten ! However, it’s all right now, and I ’ve
come to spend the evening with you.”’

So I knew that the hand of the little Mistress, the
true guardian angel of those invalid days, had touched
the spring that moved the Doctor hitherward; as,

ee

. FIG. 42,—-ANCIENT CAVE-DWELLERS.—p. 124,

124 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

indeed, it had similarily done on so many kindred occa-
sions.

The Doctor, like most of his profession, has always
had an intelligent interest in natural science, and, more-
over, cultivated a speciality in ethnology and arche-
ology. He is deep in the problem of man’s antiquity ; and
what with works on *‘ Preadamites,”’ ‘‘ Cave-Hunting,”’
~The Epoch -of the Mammoth,”-™ ihe: ‘story sor
Earth and Man,’’ ‘“‘The Races of Man,’ etc., has
a busy time in keeping his friends of the modern school
in harmony with his older friends of the Usherian
Bible chronology. He brought over with him, on his
present visit, a recent work on ‘‘ Early Man in Europe,”’
which we had abundantly (not to say thoroughly) dis-
cussed during the evening after the lamps had been
lit and a fire kindled on the hearth. ‘* Just for the
wee bit blinkin’ 0’ ‘the ingle,” wile said) “and to
mellow the night chill of the advancing fall.”’ The
frontispiece of the Doctor’s book is some ideal scene of
troglodytic life. It is a night scene: a fire is burn-
ing in front of a rocky cavern, around which the dusky
forms of a primitive family are grouped ; a full moon
shines in the background, and in the foreground a pack
of hungry wolves are pushing up over the rocks as near
as they dare come to the fire, which thus, in more than
one sense, protects the unconscious cave-men (Fig. 42.)
The picture, at least, succeeded in stirring up the im-
aginations of our Mistress and the inquisitive School-
ma’am,.so that the Doctor had full room to expand

upon his favorite theme.

INSECT TROGLODYTES. 125

** Well, Doctor,’’ I said, when we had finished morn-
ing worship, *‘I have something to show you down here
that will gratify your antiquarian interest in your fellow-
men. Moreover, I think I can put you on the trail of
a race of troglodytes of even more ancient descent than
those of whom you told us last night.”’ ;

‘‘Indeed! But—tut! you are trying to quiz me, I
SEene

‘* Not in the least ; get your hat and cane, and let us
walk over to the creek; you shall judge if I am not
in good earnest. ”’

“Well, well, I confess that I am incredulous still;
but it’s a fine morning for a walk, at any rate, and
there ’s nothing gives such interest to a journey as
some pleasant motive and destination. ”’

‘‘'There ’s a deal of deep philosophy in that remark,’’
continued the good man after a pause, during which he
had arrayed himself for the excursion, ‘‘a philosophy
that one does well to apply to all the pilgrimage of this
life and its final destination, which I hope may be a
happy one for us all. Ah! excuse me, I really did not
mean to preach!’ And he did not, for the blush
mantled his face, and he looked askance at me as though
anticipating my displeasure. We were now fairly
_afield, and our thoughts turned again upon the troglo-
dytes. |
**'There is one thing,’’ I said, ‘‘ that puzzles me in
your view of the early cave-men. May I ask how you
reconcile it with your belief as to the condition of the

original pair of Eden ?””

126 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘“To be sure! There’s no contradiction at all.
Adam and Eve were very primitive, indeed, in their
habits. Their moral nature was unclouded—therein
lay their original perfectness. They were civilized
men in that respect ; in other particulars they simply
had the rudiments of civilization. With natural in-
telligence such as man now possesses, with knowledge
of fire, and situated in a soft and congenial climate,
they rapidly developed, as we see in the family of Cain,

the arts of herding, music, and smelting metals. ”’

S,

‘* Well, but were they troglodytes? Did they have
those horrible struggles with the wild beasts of the
earth hinted at in your book ?”’

‘Certainly not ; their environment saved them from
such necessities. But then some of their posterity, as
they scattered over the earth, relapsed from many of
the acquired arts of civilized men, as they became vicious
in morals, and falling upon adverse surroundings, it is
not strange that they should have been troglodytes or
cave-men of the rudest type—quite as savage as tribes
of which we know to-day. But—pray, what is this ?
A grave, here in the meadow ?”’

We had been quietly jogging along the path, and now
stopped beside a marble slab fixed in the midst of the
field, that might easily have been taken for a grave-
stone. It was eighteen inches in height, six in thick-
ness and seven in width. It sloped with the descent of
the hill, and around its base clumps of grass, clover and
sheep-sorrel had gathered.

The Doctor lost no time in donning his spectacles,

\
~
4
si

FIG. 43.—CAVE-DWELLERS—ANCIENT AND MODERN.

,

and kneeling down beside the stone read the imscrip:
tion ;
JIARE
GOWORES,
CAVE &
DWELLING
1685,

|
|
|
|
|

128 “TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘This is your antiquarian rarity, is it ?’? he asked,
rising. ‘‘It is certainly. worth seeing ; and now let us
have ‘its story, although I could guess the nature of it.
I believe the name is that of one of our eood old Quaker
families, and the date carries us so near to the era of
the settlement of our State that I readily conjecture the
fact here commemorated.’ oe

‘* Yes, I see that you have easily guessed the truth,
although it is often puzzling enough to those less fam-
iliar with our pioneer history. This farm was first
brought under culture by Jane Townes, one of the early
Quaker emigrants, who, with her three sons, caine over
to Friend William Penn’s colony soon after the ‘great
founder’s landing. The husband and father died on ship-
board during the voyage to America ; but the widow, with
genuine pluck and faith, took up the burden of colonial
settlement, and boughta plantation which included in its
bounds our old farm. On this spot they made their first
dwelling ; they dug into the slope of the hill just here,
threw out rough supports much like the props in a coal
drift, and banked up the whole, thus making what was
known as a ‘cave.’ Here the widow with her sons
lived until timber could be cut from the thick woods
that covered the site, and hewn and builded into a log
house. One of her descendants had this cave-stone
erected to mark the site of what was the first home of
a white family in this neighborhood. The present stone
farm-house has not yet seen its first century, having
been built A. D. 1792.”

‘* Well, that was a courageous woman certainly !’’ ex-

INSECT TROGLODYTES. 129

claimed the doctor, ‘‘ and her pluck deservesamuch better _
monument. However, I have no doubt she and her boys .
enjoyed their rude life quite as much as their descendants
do these days of civilized abundance. | There is a streak
of the nomad in most men. Where was ever the boy
who didn’t long for a Robinson Crusoe’s cave ? There
was always a fascination for me, when a lad in Ohio,
in certain caves among the rocky masses. of the Little
Beaver. In those days the chief charm of a fishing
jaunt was the fire and the noon lunch in caverns or
under jutting rocks. J am sure that I should have .
greatly enjoyed those old pioneer days, so I will waste
no pity on the hardships of good Jane Townes. But
I must claim the other part of your promise. Where
are the traces of those cave-men more ancient than
the men of the Dordogre? I am eager to inspect
them.’

‘* Not so fast, Doctor. I did, indeed, promise you a
sight of most ancient cave dwellers, but I said not a
word of caye-men. My troglodytes are of the spider
world, and, see there! Your foot has well nigh trodden
upon the entrance to one of them.”’

The Doctor started back suddenly and looked down-
ward. I stooped at his side and pointed out a little
structure of straw that marked the cave of a turret
spider, Tarentula arenicola, (Fig. 44.)

‘**Come, my good friend,’’ continued. *‘ don your spec-
tacles once more and join me inthis search. Here is one
of my, ancient cave-dwellers, and I warrant that its
ancestors were here to gaze in dumb wonder at the in-

130 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

truding cave dwelling and log cabin of the Quaker
pioneers. ”’

‘* Ah, you rogue !”’ said the Doctor, as he adjusted his
glasses, ‘‘ you quite deceived me, I confess; but I par-
don you in advance, for I dare “say that you will
abundantly reward my curiosity, although in another
direction.” |

The object to which our attention was directed re-
sembled in miniature a chimney of mud and sticks, such
as One may see upon log huts on the frontier. <A circu-
lar opening in the ground an inch wide was sunk
downward quite out of sight. Around this on the
surface was built, in the form of an irregular pentagon,
a little chimney or turret, composed chiefly of bits of
grass-straw and stalks of weeds, crossed at the corners
and raised one aboye another to the height of nearly
two inches. The inside of this tube was lined with a
thin sheeting of silken web which was carried for a

little distance below the surface. Particles of earth -

were intermingled with the sticks.
—‘* Do you mean to say,’’ exclaimed the Doctor, ‘‘ that
this is the nest of a spider ?”’

‘You shall see for yourself,’’ I answered, ‘‘ for I have
brought with me the means for exploring the interior
of our cave-dwelier’s home. But first we may as well
save this part of the nest as a specimen for our cabinet, ”’

[filled the turret with a tuft of cotton to prevent it from
breaking up under the handling, then carefully cut it
away from the surface with a large knife and laid it in
a paper box, Next I quite filled up the hole, which

.
4

INSECT TROGLODYTES. $81

s FIG. 44.—TURRET SPIDER’S NEST AND TOWER.

extended ten inches straight downward, with cotton,
which was gently pushed down with a stick.
_ ‘* Pray why do you do that ?”’ asked the Doctor.

‘* [have three purposes: one is to prevent the broken
soil from falling in upon the spider who is down there
at the bottom of the cave; another is to mark the

‘$32 TENANTS OF AN OLD- FARM.

track of the tube as the sania? is cut away; a third to
prevent the spider’s escape.

‘* By the way, I was once led upon an mince © ob-
servation by this mode of filling up the burrows.
Having a desire to keep a turret spider under close
study, I cut outa burrow and took it home, preserved
entire in the midst of the sod in which it had been dug.
The spider was shut in by the cotton forced into the
opening, and was kept in by a cotton plug in the lower

part of the tube. Having snugly domiciled the exile
by inserting her nest into fresh soil and sod packed in a

half-keg, I rersoved the cotton from the upper part of

the burrow, and left the occupant to work according to
her own fancy. J was compelled to be absent for three
days, and when [ left home the spider was engaged in
pulling out the cotton plug which had been placed in
the bottom of the tube. Several pellets were already
scattered around the turret. On my return I found the
tower strangely transformed ; the whole interior was

lined with the cotton, which extended an inch or more

below the surface and lipped over the top-wail. This.

novel lining was laid on as smoothly as though done by
the delicate hand of an upholsterer.”’

‘* Very strange, indeed !’’ the Doctor exclaimed. “A
most admirable instinct! Although, perhaps, it ‘is
hardly after the manner of what I have thought an in-
stinctive act to be. Certainly there could have been no
hereditary tendency to such a use of the cotton fibre.
What think you ?”

** Undoubtedly our spider had come~ upon: new expe

INSHCT TROGLODYTES. 133

NES 6

NWA Gt

Se
os

f Z,

FIG. 45.—COTTON-LINED. NEST OF TURRET-SPIDER.

rience and readily adapted herself to it. It is impossi-
ble to think that she ever before had knowledge of
cotton and its uses for wadding. Her first purpose was
evidently to remove the material from her burrow ; but
by the contact of her highly sensitive feet and mouth
organs with the soft fabric the suggestion was raised that
it might be utilized for lining her nest instead of silk. Or
perhaps we may say that the sensation produced by
handling the soft cotton started a train of associations
‘that led the animal to deal with a substance quite
foreign to her precisely as she habitually deals with the
silk which she secretes. Whether the two theories do
not amount. to the same in the end is a point which I

134 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

will not attempt to decide. We are verging upon the
deep and somewhat strange waters of animal meta-
physics, and perhaps had better not venture further.”

‘* At all events,’’ said the Doctor, with some warmth,
as though he were beating down an old adversary in his
own thought, *‘I wiil never again say that a spider
doesn’t think ! Here certainly is an order of mentalism
which seems to difler from human thinking more in
degree than in kind.”’

In the meantime I plied the spade carefully, until at
last the bottom of the tube was reached.

‘“There she is !”’ cried the Doctor, who keenly watched
the digging.

A brown head emerged from a mass of dust-covered
cotton, followed by the legs and body of a large spider.
The body was an inch in length, but the eight long, ex-
panded legs gave one the impression of greater size.
The specimen was a female of a velvety brown color,
marked with light gray along the back.

‘¢ Yes, there she is,’’ I responded ; ‘this is one of
my troglodytes ; and now you have seen for yourself
that this pretty nest in my box was really made by a
spider. ”’ :

‘¢ Tt is certainly true, although it passes all my notions
of spider-craft. What is the use of this cave-nest ?”’

‘‘T cannot answer very confidently. The deep bur-
row is at least a winter home, and, no doubt, a good
one, since the temperature within it is much higher
than at the surface. Moreover, it affords protection
against many enemies, from whom the animal finds

INSECT TROGLODYTES. 135.

ready refuge by running into its stronghold. The
object of the chimney is less apparent. It probably
serves as a watch-tower from which the keeper may
observe the approach of her enemies and her prey.
Her favorite position is a crouching posture on the
summit of her turret, with legs drawn up and head
peering over the edge as though on guard. A little
elevation of this sort is a great temptation to grass-
hoppers and other insects, who are prone to alight upon
or crawl up it, and thus become easy victims to the
vigilant tower-keeper. On the other hand, if anything
approaches that threatens harm, the wary sentinel re-
treats to the depths of her cavern. I suppose that the
turret serves a further use in protecting the interior
from being flooded by the water that gathers upon the
surface after rain.”’

““Have you any knowledge of the mode of building
practiced by this little architect ?”’

“Yes, I have kept individuals in confinement and
watched their habits, but the best account of their
behavior has been given by my friend, Mrs. Mary Treat.
When the burrow is about two inches deep the spider
begins upon her tower. A stick is placed at the edge
of the tube, and lashed down with a strong thread.
Another is laid in similar position until the margin is
surrounded by a four or five-sided foundation. The
builder then descends to the bottom of her tube and
brings up-pellets of earth which she places atop, and
_on the inside of the sticks, pressing them down with her

body as she passes around the cirele. Then follow
J

136 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

other layers of sticks alternated with pellets of clay until
the tower is raised sometimes as high as two and a half
inches above the ground. The inner surface is smoothed
and lined with silk, and the turret is complete. While
excavating the burrow the bits of clay as they are bitten
loose are compressed within the. mandibles into small
balls, carried to the top and shot off from the walls
with sufficient force to carry them a foot distant.”’

Our spider had now crawled out from beneath the
dusty ruins of her home, and sat motionless upon a
heap of dirt. The Doctor’s eye caught sight of a
spherical egg-sac as large as a grape which was lashed
to the spinning-tubes at the end of the abdomen, and
an explanation was asked. ,

‘‘This species, like most of her family, carries her
cradle, as you see. She rarely, if ever, abandons it,
and will give up her life in its defence with the utmost
abandon. For at least two months she has dragged
that silken ball around with her, while the tiny eggs
first placed within it have grown until they are now
just ready to burst forth as baby spiderlings. If we
capture this mother, and place her in a jar, we shall,
in a few days, see a transformation. The egg-sac will
have opened, a.brood of a hundred or more younglings
will have issued forth, and have swarmed upon their
mother, hanging in a close cluster upon her abdomen,
which will be quite hidden by the wriggling mass of
wee bodies and legs. The mother will, of course, seem
greatly enlarged by this addition, and will present the
appearance of a horrible, hairy, nondescript monster,

—s |

INSECT TROGLODYTES. 137

FIG. 46.—A MOTHER SPIDER AND HER BROOD.

She may be seen thus hanging in her favorite posture
upon the outer wall of her tower, her abdomen all
a-quiver with the crowded life of her brood.”’ (Fig. 46.)
‘* Dear me!’’ said the Doctor, laughing, ‘‘ what a
destiny that must be! Surely, that is a progeny suf-
ficient to satisfy the cravings of the most capacious
mother-love. One might fancy that the Mother Goose
rhymster had this spider matron in view in the famous
nursery couplet :
* There was an Old Woman who lived in a shoe,
And she had so many children she didn’t know what to do.’ ”’

‘‘The turret spider,’’? I continued, ‘‘seems to know
what to do with her children. During the first three
weeks the tittle things are piled all over the head and

back of the mother, often appearing to blind her. They
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INSECT TROGLODYTES. 139

seem ambitious to reach the highest point, and jostle
and crowd one another in their efforts to be at the top
of the heap. This the mother patiently endures for a
time, but when the younglings thicken too closely over
her eyes she reaches up her forelegs, scrapes off an arm-
ful and hoids them straight in front of her as if discip-
lining them by reproving looks. Soon she releases
them by slowly opening her legs, whereupon the spider-
lings quietly take their places around the edge of the
tower, where they usually remain until the mother goes
below, when they all follow. Upon her reappearance
they are again mounted upon her back.”’

‘*How do the little fellows keep their position so
firmly ?’? asked the Doctor.

‘The body of the mother is covered with soft hairs
to which her babies hold by their feet, or fasten them-
selves by delicate threads spun from their spinnarets.
When they are two weeks old they ‘‘ molt ’’ or cast their

skin, a process which spiders undergo several times un-
Sail they are quite mature. The molting of the young
turret spiders is a curious sight. They stretch a line
across the back of the mother’s abdomen to which they
fasten themselves. Then they begin to undress. The
skin cracks all around the chest—the cepholotorax—
which is held by the front edge alone ; next the abdo-
men is freed, and then comes the struggle to free the
legs. By dint of regular pullings, repeated at short
intervals, the old skin is cast in fifteen minutes or more,
and the spiderling appears undressed but quite ex-~
hausted. It lies limp, pallid and motionless for a little

140 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

while and then gradually resumes its activity. Some-
times the mother’s back will be covered with taut lines
decorated with these cast-off molts, reminding one of
the dainty pieces of a baby’s toilet hung up to dry in
the laundry.”’ |

‘‘ How long does the mother keep her brood around
her ?’’? asked the Doctor.

‘“ When the young are about three weeks old a few
begin to leave the maternal care. They have been long
enough ‘tied to mother’s apron string,’ to quote a
common saying that has quite as much fact as figure in
it for our spiderlings. They climb up a grass stalk, then
venture upon a higher weed or shrub, thence they
reach the trunk of a tree, and, grown bolder now, climb
oul upon the branches. After another week the mother
shows a disposition to send her brood adrift. The time
for ‘weaning’ has come, and occasionally a little one
is reminded of this fact by being tossed away into the
erass. <A bright, warm autumn day follows, and then
the entire brood, moved by the resistless instinet of
migration, leave their mother without further ceremony,
run here and there upon plants and trees, or are dis-
tributed over the vicinity by aeronautic flight, that
strange habit so strongly analogous to ballooning as
practiced by men. Later in the season or in the spring
one will find a number of tiny burrows, the very coun-
terpart of the mother’s, in which the young have set up
housekeeping, or cave-keeping rather, for themselves.
As they grow in size the burrows are enlarged, until at

last the babes have themselves become mothers and re-

INSECT TROGLODYTES. 41

FIG. 48.— SEASIDE RESIDENCE OF TURRET SPIDEK.

peat among their own broods the maternal instincts
that fostered their baby days.”?

‘‘ There is an interesting variation in Arenicola’s
mode of building her turret which I have often ob-
served along the New Jersey seaboard. Around the
edge of the burrow, which is always driven straight
downward by the spider, is heaped a foundation of
tiny pebbles. These are usually white quartz, gathered
from the surrounding sand. Upon this foundation the

342 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

tower is erected, and the varied material gives a pretty
effect.

‘Tf one carefully dig the sand away from the burrow,
having first taken the precaution to drop a twig within
it (see Fig. 48), he may expose the interior. The sandy
walls of the excavation.appear to be kept in place by a
slight secretion of silk which melts into the interstices
of the sand, and has sufficient consistency to maintain
it intact. Supported thus upon the twig the wall looks
something like the leg of a wee lace stocking dusted
over with sand. Ihave succeeded in exposing unbroken
fully two inches of this interior coating; but it required
the most dainty manipulation. ”’

“ Truly,’? observed the Doctor, patting the ground
with his cane meditatively the meanwhile, ‘‘ the ‘ see-
ing eye’ is a rare gift. Now, I have wandered and .
loitered over those seashore sands many scores of times
and never saw such an object as that. Ithink that my
next vacation jaunt will bring me a fresh enjoyment in
looking up these troglodytic friends of yours,”

CHAPTER fx.
CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS.

“ Heixo, Harry! The Doctor wants to-see a bum-
ble-bees’ nest. Can you find one for him ?”’

Harry, who was crossing the field within easy call,
ran eagerly toward us at this greeting, for the very
name bumble-bee has a stirring influence upon a lad
who knows anything of the country. If there were a
‘“bum-bees’ ”’ nest anywhere in the neighborhood I knew
that Harry might be trusted to point out the locality ;
and accordingly the lad was soon at our side, his
fae2 aglow with a sense of importance and anticipated
pleasure.

The Doctor, however, was taken somewhat by sur-
prise. ‘My dear sir,’’ he cried, ‘‘I am not the least
aware of any such want as you have expressed. On
the contrary, I heartily excuse Harry from all service
in the way of humble-bee hunting.”

** No, no, Doctor. You cannot escape so easily. You
_are committed to a search after the most ancient cave-
dwellers, and it would be too bad to omit such distin-
euished representatives as the humble-bee. Here is
Harry quiteready to encourage your antiquarian tastes,
and he would be disappointed now were you to turn

back, Can you lead us to a bumble-bees’ nest, Harry?”’
143

144. TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘* Yes, sir,’ answered the boy with alacrity. ‘‘ There’s
one just beyond here in a big tussock on the edge of the
swamp-grass, -Joe and I found it las’ July, when they
vas a-mowin’.”’ . |

‘* And resisted the temptation to clean it out? That
tvas a marvelous example of self-denial for a growing
boy. How did it happen ?” |
_.** We did mean to fight it, and was jest gettin’ ready
when father lowed ef we ’d wait till frost come we ’d
have the nest without gettin’ stung. But that wasn’t
the reason zactly,’? added the lad. ‘‘ Z don’t mind bee-
stings much, though some folks ’s mighty feard uy ’em.
Here ?s*the nest, sir.’?

Harry had well described the site, which is indeed a
favorite one for these insects, who love to burrow in
moist, low meadow land, near a great tuft of grass or
tussock. Yet they give themselves a good deal of lati-
tude in the choice of their subterranean homes, and
often affect a grassy bank or lawn.

Harry pushed aside the grass and showed us the
entrance or gate to the cave—a round hole half an inch
in diameter. The droning buzz-z-zz! of a bee’s wings
warned us that one of the workers approached her nest.
She circled around us cautiously and somewhat ex-
citedly. There was a growing sharpness in the note of
her hum which warned the Doctor to start back and
pull the limp brim of his hat about his ears. Harry
laughed, and sat still, simply withdrawing his hand
from the opening. The bee gradually narrowed the

circles of her flight, and after a few turns above the

145

y
*

CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS

WAN TG)

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dy

Va YUU 6/1
pray, yey,
Yi WYP
Yyy ee WH

Ve

Hy LO RE

TRANC

\

WM

7.

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‘S CAVE.

HUMBLE-BEE

Ww

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coming, settled upon

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gate

home
the

and crept down

the tube with a final buzz

She had thus unwittingly identified

ound

or
or

of satisfaction.

the

and

site for us

confirmed Harry’s report.

(Fig. 49.)

Now, Doctor,” I remarked, “here is an oppor-

“

746 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

tunity to prove your devotion to science. Our little
cave-dwellers are wont to defend their household
treasures with some acrimony.”’

‘* My dear fellow,”’ said the clergyman, ‘‘I pray you
have me excused! Iam too old and clumsy to engage
in a battle with bumble-bees. If you stir up those
mettlesome little beasts I shall certainly run away.
Good morning !”’

‘* Hold, hold, Docter! I promise to spare you. But
how shall we learn the mysteries of this cavern-home
unless we take some risks in the work of exploration ?
‘Really, I am anxious, on my own behalf, to see the
interior of a bee’s nest; for I haven’t seen one since my
boyhood, and in those days there was rather too much
excitement in the assault and defense to permit a care-
ful study of the architecture.”’

Here Harry spoke. ‘‘I know where they ’re two
other nests inside the yard, back of the house. Pap,
was telling Joe and me t’ other day that we ’d hav’ tuh
clean ’em out anyhow, sence the folks ’ad come. So ef
you ’d like to see a nest we’ll open one now for you,
jest as leay’s not.”’

“Ah, that will do finely,” I said so you ssce,
Doctor, we shall get the spoils of victory without the
perils of war.”

‘True enough,” was the reply, ‘But isn’t that
very much like the patriotism of the great showman,
Artemas Ward, who exhibited such self-sacrificing .
willingness to have all his wife’s relations go to war ?”’

*¢’Perhaps it is,’? I answered, smiling, ‘‘ but we may

CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. | 147

trust our boys to come out of the conflict without any
serious hurt. They are experienced hands at bee-
nesting, I warrant. And now, if you’ll consent to
spend the day with us, we’ll defer our caye-hunting
until evening. What say you ?”’

The Doctor, who was quite prepared to humor my
fancies and encourage me in these agreeable field pur-
suits, readily consented. Therefore, dismissing Harry.
we turned our steps homeward.

As we walked over the moist, soft ground that skirts
the edge of the Run, my friend noticed a ridge of loose,
fresh earth heaved up along the low bank. ‘‘I see that
a mole has been at work here,”’ he remarked.

‘Let us look a little more closely,’ I said. ‘‘ The
burrow which this ridge covers is certainly much like a
mole’s, but smaller than that animal makes. I suspect
chat we are on the trail of another of our insect cave
dwellers—the mole-cricket. Yes, it is so, and here be-
neath this stone the burrow terminates.’’ I turned
over the stone, and exposed a simple opening into the
earth.

- ** Where is the cricket ? ’ asked the Doctor.

‘‘ That is more easily asked than answered; some-
where near the bottom of his cave at this hour of the
day, too far down for us to reach. But if you will
_ visit his burrow with me this evening, I may satisfy
your curiosity. The mole-cricket is a nocturnal insect,
and will not be caught near the door of his den until
dusk. If one will then push a long grass stalk into the
opening the irritated inhabitant will probably grasp it,

148 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

and grass and cricket may be drawn out together.
Our American species is known as the Northern
mole-cricket (Gryllotalpa borealis), although, in fact, it
inhabits nearly the whole of the great plains, from
Louisiana to Massachusetts. ‘Sometimes the bulk of
the soil beneath the sod and stones for a rod from
the water’s edge will be found completely honey-
combed with their burrows. They seldom penetrate to
a depth of more than six or eight inches, rarely to a
foot beneath the surface. The burrows are about one-
third of an inch in diameter, entirely irregular in direc-
tion, and often terminate abruptly. When the ground
is hard, the burrows are brought so near the surface as
to raise long ridges of mould, which, when dry, fre-
quently fall in and expose the interior.”’

‘‘Does the mole-cricket chirrup like the traditional
hearth cricket??? _

‘*It does chirrup, or rather creak, but its note is dif-
ferent, resembling the distant sound of frogs, but some-
what feebler. It is most frequently heard about dusk.”’

‘“ Why is the insect called a mole-cricket ?”’

‘*From the very fact, in part, that caused you to mis-
take his burrow for a mole’s. The general shape of
the insect contributes to this likeness, as well as the
strange development of the fore limbs, and the peculiar
formation of the first pair of feet, which are not unlike
the corresponding members of the mole. There are
other points of resemblance which are most exiraor-
dinary. Like the mole, the mole-cricket’ passes nearly
the whole of its life underground, digging out long pas-

CAVE-DWEHLLING INSZHOTS. 149

FIG. dU,

GRYLLOTALPA BORFALIS—THE MOLE CRICKET—
ITS CAVE AND EGGS.

sages by means of its spade-like limbs, and traversing
them in search of prey. Like the mole, it is fierce and
quarrelsome, is ready to fight with its own kind, and,
if victorious, always tears its vanquished opponent tc
pieces. Like the mole, it is exceedingly voracious, and
if confined without food with several of its own species,
the strongest will devour the weakest. We may close
the analogy by saying that, like the mole, it is useful
enough in the fields, where its tunnels form a kind of
subsoil drainage, but is equally destructive in the gar-
den among young plants and flowers, upon whose roots
it feeds, The European species (Giryllotalpa vulgaris) is
often quite a pest, but our American species has not yet

150 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

developed such destructive habits, perhaps from lack
of opportunity.”’

‘* Well, well,’’ cried the Doctor, ‘‘I quite join you in
declaring this a most extraordinary creature. These
are wonderful resemblances to exist in animals so widely
separated as a cricket and a mole—an insect and a
vertebrate.”’

‘* Perhaps,’’ I suggested, thinking to draw the Doc-
tor’s theological fire, ‘‘ the insect is a far-away ancestor
of the vertebrate? At least, an evolutionist might
have no difficulty in accounting for such resemblances
by some application of his theory.”

The Doctor glanced slily at me, smiled, and answered :
‘* Ah! you shall not disturb my equanimity so. Evo-
lution is no theological béte noir to me. Not that I be-
lieve it, at all; on the contrary, I think it is yet an un-
proved hypothesis. But, considered as a method of
ereation simply, I am willing to leave it wholly in -the
hands of the naturalists and philosophers. Of course,
that materialistic view of evolution, which dispenses
with a Divine Creator as the First Cause of all things,
has no place in my thought. That is not for a moment
to be tolerated ; but, as for the rest, why should Chris-
tian people disturb themselves ? Science has not yet
said her last word, by any means, and we can well
afford to wait. The only absolute condition that I
name is, that evolutionists shall still heartily join us in
the opening sentence of the Creed : ‘I believe in God,
the Father Almighty, MAKER of Heaven and Earth.’
But, Mr. Mayfield, we are not driven of necessity to

CAVE-DWELLING INSHOTS. 157

evolutionism to account for such striking analogies in
the animal kingdom as those between the mole and the
mole-cricket.”’

‘‘Indeed! What other theory can so well satisfy the
demands of science ?”’

‘The theory which lies at the root of all Monotheism,
viz.: the origin of all things in One Divine Mind. The
eritic will trace with reasonable certainty the literary
remains of an ancient author by the characteristics of
style. Amid a number of claimants he will separate
the genuine products from the apochryphal by those re-
semblances which naturally and inevitably mark the
productions of one mind. Now, why should I not rea-
son in this wise of the One Great Over-Mind and the
products of His thought ? Is it strange that, if all things
are created by the Almighty God, there should be trace-
able amonest them even through an infinite wealth and
variety of wisdom, taste and skill, a manifest likeness ?
Nay, it would be strange were it otherwise. Belief in
the Unity of God the Creator leads logically to such
analogies as we have been speaking of. Sometimes, as
with our mole and cricket, the analogies lie close to the
surface ; again, they run deeper, or are wholly hidden
evel irom Star-eyed science. : But, im any case, I
cannot see, from this stand-point, that the theory of
evolution has any advantage over a theory of special
creations. However, there is no need that the two
theories should fall to blows. Let us have Patience and
Charity. There is a deal too much dogmatism on both
sides. Let us.wait and look further. Truth is one and

152 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

of One. By and by we shall find the links that. bind
all natural facts into one chain, and that shall lead—I
never fora moment doubt it !—over whatever trail, by
whatever method, straight to the Hand Divine.’

The face of the good old man had kindled under the —
play of thought. He had brushed back his felt hat, as
was his habit in animated conversation, until his broad
brow was fully exposed. He walked on, erect and
vigorous, punctuating his periods by sounding thumps
upon the path with his gold-headed cane (another pecu-
liar habit), keeping his eyes the while well aloft as
though communing with the clouds. Gradually the
glance fell until it reached the plane of my face, when,
with a bright smile, the Doctor added :

‘“'There, you have tempted me to express sentiments
that I rarely trouble others with. You may put it
down as one more of the wonders of that extraordinary
mole-cricket that he should thus lift the flood-gate of
garrulity from an old man’s lips.” .

‘“‘My-dear Doctor,’ I said, ‘“‘I thank you from my
heart for this expression of your views. It would be
well for all concerned were such reasonable and chari-
table opinions more commonly held and. frequently
uttered.”’

‘¢ Now for the bumble-bees !”’

The farm-house awoke from the profound stillness
which, according to the law of the Mistress, daily in-
vited to a refreshing afternoon nap. Abby and the
children were home from school, Hugh and Joe were in

early from the field, and I summoned all hands to the

CAVE-DWHLLING INSECTS, | 153

FIG. 51.—QUEEN, MALE, WORKERS MINOR AND MAJOR OF
HUMBLE-BEE (BOMBUS VIRGINICUS.)

raid upon the bees. The nest was found upon the lawn,
just beyond the clump of shade trees where the yard
begins to roll downward toward the meadow and the
spring-house run. One of the gates opened directly into
the sod by a circular hole, rimmed around about by ex-
cavated soil.’ It was prettily embowered beneath the
- tufts of orchard grass and sprigs of red clover, which
indeed wholly concealed it.

‘‘How cunningly this is hidden !’’? exclaimed the
Schoolma’am ; ‘‘ pray, how did you happen to find it,
Harry 2?”

‘*T jest stumbled on it, ma’am, I stopped ve one

154 ‘TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

day, and while moving my feet back and forth, firs’
thing I knowed two or three bees came up out ’v the
erass and began buzzin’ ’round me. I knowed what.
that meant, stooped down and found this hole.’’

‘So ??? said the Schoolma’am. ‘‘'The bees then were
themselves the tell-tales and betrayed their own nest,
They hadn’t imbibed the peaceful principles of. the. old
Friendly proprietor, or they might have escaped this
impending doom. Heigh-ho!”’

‘‘ Very likely, Miss Abby. But we can moralize by
and by. Where’s your other nest, Harry ?”

It was pointed out at the edge of an uncovered hot-
bed which had been set into the bank about eight feet
from the pretty gate which we had just examined and
admired. A hole as big as one’s fist penetrated the
bank at the side of the bed-frame, into which several
bees entered while we looked. The first opening was
evidently the natural architecture of the bees, but.
this seemed to be the burrow of a mole which had
been utilized by the insects. We decided to begin
operations at the first gate. The party gathered around
at various distances, regulated by the various degrees of
respect entertained for the acculeate ability of the
bees.

‘Hello, Joe, bring on the jug!’ called Harry;
““we ’re all ready.”’

‘Jug ? What’s that for ?’? asked Abby.

‘*Dear knows !’’ said the Mistress; ‘‘but the boys
have been exploring the premises for a black jug—it
must be a black one, they said, or it wouldn’t answer,”

CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. 155

The lads had evidently succeeded in their search, for
Joe appeared, carrying a black jug, half filled with
water. He laid it on its side, with the mouth close to
the gate.

“All right !’? he said. ‘‘Go ahead now. I warrant
the bees won’t hurt us very much.”’

I thrust a tuft of cotton into the opening, and then
cut out the sod around, thus preserving intact the natu-
ral gate to the nest. When this was removed, and the
gallery beneath uncovered, the mystery of Joe’s jug
was immediately explained. One after another a troop
of yellow-backed bees issued forth, mounted on wing
with angry whirr, coursed a few narrow circles, then
dived into the open mouth of the jug, where they were
immersed in the contents.

““Oh, Joe,*? exclaimed Abby, ‘‘this is a base mode
of warfare. It equals the wickedness of our white an-
cestors, who have literally exterminated the wild
aborigines by the enticements of the jug. Fie! fie!
Why don’t you fight them like a man ?”’ (Fig. 52.)

‘‘Hugh Bond declared these bees trespassers,”’ cried
the Mistress from the safe shelter of a neighboring pine
tree, ‘‘and I have heard him affirm that all trespassers
ought to be ‘jugged.’ Don’t mind what Miss Abby
says, J oe.”

** Alas !”? said the Doctor, also inclined to draw a
moral from the novel proceeding, ‘‘ how often is Indus-
try, symbolized by the busy bee, utterly wrecked, and
its fruits desolated by the perfidious habit of which
the ‘jug’ is the emblem !”

GG] ‘d—'not AHL JO SLNTWHOLLNA AHL AM GULVNINNALXY SANIDIMOTY (TM—'6G “Old

Laue
WNETEG e

OAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. 157

“‘ Doctor, Doctor!’ called the Mistress, ‘‘how dare
you? That’s my vinegar jug !”

‘*Pardon, madam,’’ said the Dominie, ‘‘I meant no
harm ; but I perceive that it is true, as our old writing-
copy affirmed, ‘Comparisons are odious.’ ”’

In the meantime, quite unmolested by the bees, we
had followed the underground gallery, which soon
widened into what was evidently the burrow of a mole.
It led in a zigzag course toward the hot-bed frame.

“Why, Harry,”’? I said, “‘ your two nests will turn
out to be one, I think.”’

So it proved. After tracing the burrow for a dis-
tance of five feet, we came upon the nest. It lay in a
cavity seven or eight inches in diameter, the floor of
which was eighteen inches from the surface.

As the yellow cells of the bumble-bees showed amid
the torn shreds of their gray mattress of curled hay,
the boys cried out :

“Here it.is!. Here it is!”

The Mistress left the shelter of her tree, with head
wrapped in a scarf; the Doctor pulled his hat-brims
around his ears ; Julia threw up her check.apron until
it wholly enveloped her head ; Abby wore her hat, and
had twisted a, kerchief around her neck. What they
saw through the broken wall of the cave was a round
bundle of dry chopped grass, about the bigness of one’s
head, lying on the floor, sprinkled with the yellow soil
fallen from our digging.

‘* Look out now !”’

Half a dozen bees rose from the pulverized ruins of

158 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

their home; shook off the dust from their wings, and
darted toward the group of curious observers. There
were screams and a quick dispersion. The Mistress
and Jenny ran away without ceremony. Abby took a
step or two backward, and then stood her ground, tak-
ing the precaution, however, to clasp her skirts tightly,
while her head rapidly oscillated in the vain endeavor
to follow the insects’ flight. The Doctor retreated with
some show of dignity, as becamie his cloth, but hugged
his cheeks tightly with his soft hat. Uuluckily for him,
black seemed to affect humble-bees as red does a bull,
and several of the irate workers, attracted by the
clerical sable, charged straight upon the dominie. This
was too much, even for his dignity; so, standing no
further ceremony, he turned and fled, holding his hat
down with one hand, and with the other wildly beat-
ing a handkerchief about his face. The scene was
laughable enough, but the boys ran to the rescue. The
bees abandoned the Doctor and fell upon them, but
were soon beaten down by the paddles with which they
were armed.

The danger was over, and the party returned with
much merriment to the cave. The nest was taken out,
laid upon’a cioth, and the swathing of curled hay
removed. This exposed a_ spherical cluster of oval-
shaped cells about four inches in diameter. The cells »
were of various sizes 5 the largest not more than three-
fourths of an inch long and one-half inch thick. They
were made of thin yellow wax covered with brown
blotches, and were so tightly fastened to one another

CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. ° 159

FIG. 535.—CAVE AND CELL-NEST OF HUMBLE-BEES,

by wax cement that they were separated with difficulty.
Some of the cells were open ; most of them were closed.
Of the latter some were filled with a number of small
yellowish-white grubs of various sizes ; others contained
but .one grub each; a large white one, which was
doubtless a young princess in training for future queen-
ship.

160 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

Here and there was a cell filled with yellow wax;
and there were several small clusters of dirty gray cells
filled with honey.

“Ts that all there is of the nest ?”? asked Abby.
Really, Iam disappointed. This doesn’t compare with
the honey-bee’s comb for beauty of structure.”’

“This is all; certainly the architecture cannot com-
pare with that of the honey-bee, but there is much to
admire in it after all. The humble-bee is not a child of
civilization, and its ruder craft is very well adapted to
its wilder life.”’ 3

‘Look at those cunning little bees,’’ said the Mis-
tress, ‘‘ crawling over the celis. I suppose they are
lately hatched and haif-grown, and they don’t seem
to shun you at all! why is that ?”

‘‘You forget,’ I answered, ‘‘ that there is no such
thing as a half-grown bee except in the laryal or
grub condition. The larvee feed enormously, but when
they pass into the pupal state and transform, they come
out into the imago or perfect insect, full grown. There
is no increase in stature after that. These white-
headed forms which you have called ‘half-grown’ are
the small workers or minors. These, a size or two
Jarger, are the male bees or drones. There is nothing
very courageous in handling them, for they are stingless.
Nature has left them absolutely without means of of-
.fense and defense.”’

‘* Look at them !’’ cried Abby, indignantly. ‘°* They
are crawling around and around over the broken cells
lapping up the honey! Stingless, hey ? Lazy, greedy

x

CAVE-DWELLING INSECTS. 161

$-e=

FIG. 54..-THE DUDE OF THE BEEHIVE—POOR DRONE!

drones ! See, too, how bright, clean and pretty they

look—a sort of apiarian ‘ dude,’ I do declare !”’
“Come, come, Miss Abby,’’said the Doctor. ‘“ Every-
thing after its kind, you know. Nature makes no mis-
takes even in the creation of drones.

CHAPTER X.
THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE,

**T WONDER if we have killed the queen-bee ? Ah,
no! here she is, burrowed in the grass under the cells.”

Disturbed by my intruding finger the royai lady

issued from her retreat, and began promenading the
top of the cells with restless steps. She was at least
three times as large as the nurse-bees, being fully an
inch and a quarter long. She was an object of great
interest to all our party, and as she at once set to work,
quite oblivious of our presence, to straighten out the
damage done to the cells, she received numerous com-
pliments whose edge was greatly sharpened against the
disparaging contrast with the unfortunate drones.

‘‘We are fortunate in possessing the queen,”’ I re-
marked. ‘*‘ We can now hive our colony and observe
the bees’ habits more closely.”’

‘“Couldn’t you have done that without the queen ?”
asked Abby. | |

‘“The colony might have kept together for a iittle
while united in care of the grubs; but the queen seems
to be the bond of union with these insects. The whole
life of the family centers upon the rearing and care of
the young, tc which duties the queen-mother is very

necessary. Besides, I fancy that her experience,
162

|

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEHE. 163

energy and aid are important factors in leadership and
labor for the mechanical duties of the family, such as
excavating and upholstering the cave and building the
cells. But you shall have a chance to observe these
matters for yourselves presently.”’

A rough hive was soon made as follows: One side of
a small packing-box was filled with loose sods cut out
in digging for the nest ; the other side was partly filled
with soil, on which the cluster of cells was laid in the
midst of its swathing of curled hay. <A large pane of
glass was laid atop of this, leaving openings for the
bees to escape into the air. The hive was placed near
the original site of the nest, and we stationed ourselves
close by to watch. As the afternoon was now well ad-
vanced some of the worker bees were coming home.
They were utterly confused at not finding the gate of
. their nest, flew round and round, settled here and there
in vain search and rose again to resume their restless
circles. Not one entered the box until I finally re-
moved the glass. In a few minutes thereafter half a
dozen large workers, with the little bags upon their
legs laden with yellow pollen, dropped into the nest and
settled down beneath the cells without any sign appar-
ent to us ef excitement or surprise.

Meanwhile, however, the queen was laboring with vast
energy. She seized bits and bunches of the upholstery
in her mandibles, and pulled and pushed with her feet
with the intention of burying the cells. Small workers,
nurses or ** minor workers,’’ about half the size of the
queen, who differed from the major workers in size,

164 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

being at least one-third smaller, followed the lead of
the queen. There were few of them left, but they
worked energetically. Then the big workers caught
the infection. With the pollen still clinging to their legs,
they laid heartily hold of the upholstery and dragged
away along with the rest. They burrowed under the
mass, and worked from beneath, pushing up the pliable
fibres, pulling and tugging, scratching and kicking, the
whole heap all the while graduatly shifting toward and
gathering around the ceils.

‘* Look at that bee!” said Abby. ‘* What is it doing
now ?”?

A large worker had climbed upon the fresh cut edge
of the sods that filled one side of the box. It seized
bits of soil with its jaws and cast dewn pellets from the
slope ; it erasped the tine rootlets that everywhere in-
terlaced the sod and bit at them with great fury.

‘“What can the creature mean? Is it insane with
despair over the ruin of its home ? Look! there goes
another one. It, too, has been seized with the rabies.”

A second bee had mounted the sod wall, and seizing
upon the soil, cut out pellets with its mandibles until
its head was buried. In went the short fore-feet, with
which the insect dug like a dog ina rabbit-burrow. I
took out my watch to time the insect miner, and in less
than two minutes it had buried its entire body in the
hole. (Fig. 50.)

‘“Dear me!’’ exclaimed the Mistress. “There is
enerey for you! That is certainly mining extraordinary.
A Lehigh coal-digger or a Leadville silver-miner might

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 165

FIG. 55).— HUMBLE-BEE UPHOLSTERY—WORKER BURROWING FOR
ROOTLETS, AND QUEEN COVERING HER NEST. FROM NATURE.

well envy such force and skill asthese. What a pity it
should be so ill employed, for this work seems utterly
without purpose ; is it so ?”

** Wait a while,’’ lanswered. ‘‘ Patience and watch-
fulness solve many mysteries in the behavior of nature.
I dare say we shall by-and-by find some reasonable
issue to this work.”’

So it proved; for before the evening ended the
mystery was disclosed. We discovered that the object
of the bees was the garnering of the fine roots running
through the sod. These were pulled out in quantities,
raked down the slope by the hind feet, and added to the
mass of upholstery. Next morning when I visited my
hive I found the cells quite covered ; the summit of the

166 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

conical moundlet thus formed was composed of fine
fibres of the excavated rootlets, while the edges of the
sod were stripped of the same. Cells, larve, drones and
queen were quite out of sight, buried and domiciled
within the grassy mattress that bunched out above
them. Here and there workers would push out their
black heads from the mound, like boys playing hide-and-
seek in a hay-mow, and pull them back again. Others
would slowly scramble forth and busy themselves at
tucking up the tufts of upholstery, or if my approach
had been ungentle, would rise like alarmed sentinels
and hum around the miniature hay-cock that held the
treasures of their home. At several places in the mound
the openings through which these bees came were well
nigh formed into regular tubular gates by the compact-
ing of the fibre.

‘“Come,’’ said the Doctor, as we sat on the porch
after tea, enjoying the soft autumn evening, ‘‘ we ought
to round out our bee-hunting with the story of how a
nest is founded. What say you, Mr. Mayfield ?””

‘‘T am quite at your service, and the story is not
long, though somewhat curious. At the end of fall
nearly all the humble-bees die. The males invariably
perish, but one or two of the females or young queens
survive, and pass the winter in a state of hibernation.
In early spring the queen awakes from her winter’s
sleep beneath the moss or leaves, or in deserted nests,
or sheltered spots, such as hollow trees or hay-stacks.

‘‘She may then be seen prowling above the ground,
settling here and there, and flying off again with a

ee a

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 167

: SS
7 = Fee FS
7 OO Rie SE.
ia =

a
mus ismaac& fo

FIG. 56.—MATTRESS-MAKING.—‘‘ TUCKING UP THE TUFTS OF
UPHOLSTERY.”’ —

monotonous, steady hum. Hersecretiveness at this time
is immensely developed, and the slightest suspicion of’
being watched will send her far off with an eager, angry
flight. She will never dig an inch of soil as long as she
_ sees any suspicious object, and will often make her way
under a tuft of herbage, and remain there concealed
until she fancies that danger has passed. ;
‘‘Her resting place is ‘frequently selected in the
abandoned nest of a field mouse ; sometimes beneath an ~
old stump; sometimes, as with our nest, she sinks a‘
tube directly into the sod, and avails herself of the '
burrow of a mole, either before or after, to secure
entrance and exit to and from the cave which she digs. !

168 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

Immediately she collects a small amount of pollen
mixed with honey, and in this deposits from seven to
fourteen eggs, gradually adding to the pollen mass until
the first brood is hatched.

**She does not wait for one brood to be hatched before |

laying the eggs for a second. The eggs are laid in con-
tact with each other, in one cavity of the mass of pollen
with a part of which they are slightly covered. As
soon as the larvee are capable of motion and commence
feeding they eat the pollen, by which they are sur-
rounded, and, gradually separating, push their way in
various directions. Eating as they move, and increas-
ing in size quite rapidly, they soon make large cavities
in the pollen mass. When they have attained their full
size they spin a silken wall about them, which is covered
by the old bees (after the first brood has matured) with
a thin layer of wax, which soon becomes hard, forming
the cells which we saw. The larve now gradually
attain the pupa stage, and remain inactive until their
development. They then cut their way out, and are
ready to assume their several duties and stations as
workers, males or queens. As the colony grows the
nest is rapidly enlarged, until in the early fall it has
grown to the size which we saw.

‘*In which estate.’’ suggested Abby, ‘‘ they are ready
for the final and chief end of beehood—to yield a mo-
mentary pleasure to a destructive boy armed with jugs,
paddles and wisps of hay.”’

‘Or,’ Ladded, ‘‘ to gratify the curiosity of a raiding
naturalist and his friends.”’

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 169

** Well answered, Miss Abby,’’ said the Doctor, ‘‘ for
you and I are particeps criminis with the boys and the
naturalist, and are estopped from all complaint. Why
is it that the humble-bee is such an Ishmaelite among
the insects ?” .

** But is he an Ishmaelite ?’? I responded. ‘‘He is
doubtless an Adullamite—a cave-dweller and a sort of
outlaw ; but while every man’s hand appears to be
against him, I cannot concede that his hand is against
. every man. He is a peaceful, well-nigh harmless fel-
low, and would do little damage were he let alone.
When the scythe or mowing-machine rushes over his
nest in the meadow-grass at hay-harvest, he makes a
good deal of fuss, of course—as who would not under
like circumstances ? Sometimes he inflicts a sting ; but
these are not crimes sufficient to call down the univer-
sal wrath of man. As for the few cells of honey in his
nest, they alone would scarcely tempt even .boyhood to
the onset. It’s a case of persecution, and I speak a
good word for our wild friends—the Indians of the bee
race. Jam not even sure that the humble-bce is not
belied as to its stinging propensity. At least I have at
various times sat down by a nest, quietly thrust in my
naked hand, removed the mattress and examined the
interior at my leisure. The bees bustled out and buzzed
around, but I sat perfectly still and received no harm.”’ »

‘* Has the humble-bee any natural enemies ?’’ asked
the Doctor.

‘*Thank you for the suggestion—Yes! There is one,
at least, whom I am glad to classify with ‘et human

170 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

foes—the skunk or pole-cat. It is not a very goodly
fellowship, certainly, but that is the fact, boys and
pole-cats are fellow-soldiers in their raids upon the
humble-bee. The skunk hunts the nests, and tears
them up for the sake of the larvee particularly, of which
it is very fond. The nests of yellow-jackets, which are
also made on the ground, are raided in the same way
by this animal.”’

‘* Why don’t the bees sting ’em off ?”’ asked Harry.

‘* Doubtless, they do try ; but the assaults are usually
by night when the insects are a little dazed, and before
they can recever from their surprise the mischief is
done. Besides, the fur jacket of the beast is a good pro-
tection against so short a sword as a bee-sting.”’

**T should think,’’ said Abby, “that the mere
presence of such an ill-odored animal would suffice to
disperse such respectable creatures as bees. Faugh !”’

‘* But then,’’ I answered, joining in the laugh which
followed the Schoolma’am’s closing interjection, ‘* you
must remember that the skunk is not always mal-
odorous. Like some unsavory human kind, of whom I
wot, it is by no means ill-looking, and Knows how to
conceal its obnoxious traits. The powerful perfume
which it carries in the little pouch which nature has
provided for that purpose, and which is the animal’s
weapon of defence, would not be used against such in-
significant assailants as bees. That is used for more
formidable enemies, as man and dogs. Besides, I have
known very fastidious gentlewomen who could pat and
fondle the skunk’s soft coat with great pieasure.”’

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. aba)

“Oh, Mr. Mayfield!” cried Abby, ‘You are surely
joking with us! How could they bear—”’

“Come, come, my dear.”’ interposed the Mistress,
who at once saw the point of my quizzing. ‘* you quite
forget that the fur of our unsavory friend has been
lately much used for ladies’ mufts.”’

““T ery quarter !’’ exclaimed Abby, when the. merri-
ment had subsided, ‘‘ I was fairly trapped. And now,
as I am especially interested in changing the subject,
‘please tell me how the skunk manages to get at the
bees ? if the nests are all hidden like this one just
dug out by us, with narrow approaches several feet
under ground, it would be a heavy task to burrow to
them.”’

‘*T. think I kin answer that question,’?’ Hugh res-
ponded, ‘‘ fer down in the meadows, and in the tussocks
along the stream, vou commonly find’em right on top
uv the eroun’, in an old mouse nest, or a little hol-
low half’s big as one’s head. They build ther combs
in these hollows, and cover ’em with ther little straw
heaps, an’ seem to git along right well. Uv course, the
erass shelters ’em a good ’eal. I never seed a nest
like this un in the yard, down ther. I think, however,
them ’s a differt sort 0’ bees from these uns, ain’t they ?
They ’pear bigger and yallerer.”’

‘“You have observed quite accurately, Hugh. My
friend, Mr. Ezra T. Cresson, tells me that there are
more than forty species of humble-bee known to inhabit
North America. I have heard countrymen call the
spocies of which you speak the swamp-bee ; its scientific

AY QA QUAL

"SQNUINA GNY SHINAND NVIUVIdV ZC ‘Old

Se a oo ee

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 1%3

name is probably Bombus separatus, Cresson. The spe-
cies which we have been observing is Bombus vir-
ginicus,

‘‘ While speaking of the enemies of the bees, we must
not forget to mention the field-mice, who, although they
yield nesting material to their wild insect friends, make
ample reprisals by destroying the honeycombs. The
late Mr. Darwin made a curious allusion to this fact in
his book on the ‘‘ Origin of Species. ”” We may infer,
he says, as highly probable, that were the whole genus
of humble-bees to become extinct or very rare in Eng-
land, the heart’s-ease and red clover (which they fertil-
ize by carrying pollen from flower to flower), would
become very rare or wholly disappear. The number of
humble-bees in any district depends in a great degree
on the number of field mice which destroy their combs
and nests; and Colonel Newman, who has long at-
tended to the habits of humble-bees, believes that more
than two-thirds of them are thus destroyed all over
England. Now, the number of mice is largely de-
pendent, as every one knows, on the number of cats.
Colonel Newman says that near villages and small
towns he has found the nests of humble-bees more
numerous than elsewhere—a fact which he attributes
to the number of cats that destroy the mice. Hence it
is quite credible that the presence of a feline animal in
large numbers in a district might determine, through
the intervention first of mice and then of bees, the fre-
quency of certain flowers in a district ! I do not know
whether the above curious chain of facts holds equally

a Fs), TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

-zood in America as in England ; but it probably obtains
-to some extent, at least.”’ |

‘* Blessings on poor Tabby !”’ exclaimed the Mistress,
stroking the sleek fur of the fine Maltese cat that lay
purring in her lap. ‘' Here is another to add to the list
of your domestic virtues—we owe to you our beautiful
red clover fields !”’

‘“Yes,’’ said Abby ; ** but don’t forget to dispense a
little gratitude to the poor humble-bee, who is the
principal benefactor, after all. I shall tell these strange
news to my farmer lads, and try to persuade them
against persecuting so useful a friend. But the average
schoolboy, I fear, is proof against persuasion when a
humble-bee’s nest is in question,’ .

‘*Perhaps,’’? I suggested, ‘“‘schcolboys are natural
checks upon the undue increase of the insects, just as
cats are upon mice. But let us take up again the con-
struction of the bee’s nest, whose description we had
not quite completed. Hugh spoke about meadow bees
weathering the season very well without any covering
but the straw-heap and the overhanging herbage.
There is something more than this.. Do you notice in
the nest which we excavated that a slight shell or
casing at the right side of the cells was formed be-
tween the cells and the outside upholstery ? This is
made by spreading a coating of wax on the inside of
the mat, which hardens around the straws and forms
about the cells a waterproof envelope. The mattress
may be removed from this without breaking it, leaving
the cells quite inclosed by it. This is doubtless a valu-

i
FIG. ‘58.—CURTAIN OF WAX-WORKERS (AFTER RENNIE. ) : |
; 175

176 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

able protection against the rain.” (See Fig. 53,
chap mix.) 7

‘‘ Where do the bees get this wax ?”’ asked Joe.

‘‘ A proper question, certainly ; I wonder it has not
been asked before. The bee secretes the wax from its
own body. On the winder side of the abdomen are six
little flaps, not unlike pockets, the covers of which can
be easily raised with a pin. Under these flaps is secreted
the wax, which is produced in tiny scales or plates, and
may be seen projecting from the flaps like little half-
moon-shaped white lines. <A scale of wax is drawn out
from the abdominal ring by pincers fixed at the joint
of one of the hind pair of legs, and is carried to the
mouth. It is there worked up by the mandibles and
tongue, and undergoes some important change. When
secreting the wax the wax-workers of the honey-bees,
at least, have a curious habit of hanging in a chain-like
cluster, holding fast one another’s legs. This is called
a curtain. |

Plenty of food, quiet ahd warmth are necessary for
‘the production of wax, and as it is secreted very
slowly, it is extremely valuable and used with great
economy. How wax is formed within the body of the
bee I cannot explain any more than I can tell how the
liquid silk is produced within the spider’s silk glands.
The Author of Nature has endowed these creatures
with such gifts and the power to use them—I go no
further. But it is a wonderful substance ; soft enough,
when warm, to be kneaded and spread like mortar,

and hard enough when ccol to bear the weight of brood

THE HISTORY OF A. HOMBLE-BEE. iar

and honey. Moreover, it is of a texture so close that
‘the honey cannot soak through the delicate walis of
the cells, which are perfect, natural honey-pots.

‘*Tell me something,” said the Mistress, ‘‘ of the way
in which bees gather honey. I have often seen them
humming around and diving into flowers, but they
move so rapidly that I could never fairly observe their
behavior.”? ‘

‘‘Tt is done in this way: the bee has at the end of its
face a long, hair-clad pro-

boscis or tongue which it

. WiKi

inserts into the recesses of
flowers, brushes out the
nectar, passes the laden
tongue through its jaws,
(Fig. 59) serapes off the
sweet liquid and swallows
it. Just within the ab-
domen the esophagus ex-
pands into a little sac called
the crop or ‘honey bag,’
and into this the nectar is
passed. ‘If the bee wants
to eat, it opens a minute

FIG. 59.— FACE OF HUMBLE-
valve which divides the | BEB, SHOWING TONGUE,
crop from the stomach, SSRN oe
which is just beyond it, and lets out enough to satisfy
its hunger. As long as the valve is closed the nectar ac-
cumulates, and when the crop is filled the bee flies home

and regurgitates the collected sweets into one of the

178 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

honey cells, The liquid enters the crop as nectar; it
comes out honey—by what process is a secret, even to
the bee !”

‘IT don’t quite understand that,’’ said Harry.

‘‘Then let me try to iliustrate.’’ I took from the table
a drop tube or pipette, such as is commonly used by
apothecaries and microscopists. It is simply a glass
tube narrowed at one end and inserted into an india-
rubber bulb. Pressing the bulb between finger and
thumb, I plunged the tip into a tumbler of water, which
as the pressure was removed rushed in and filled the
pipe. ‘‘Cbserve now what happens,’’ I said, holding
aloft the charged pipette ; ‘‘ when I press upon this bulb
every movement of my thumb and finger forces a drop
of the liquid to gather at the nozzle of the pipette and -
finally to drip away. Do you understand how that
happens, Harry ?”’ .

‘* Yes, sir, I think I do,”’ rejoined the lad. “Wen
you sqéezes agin’ the rubber bulb it presses on the air
inside, and that pushes agin the water in the pipe and
forces it out of the nozzle.”’

‘* That’s quite plain 5 is it ?”

‘Wes, sir: quite.’

Ve LY: well, then ; let us suppose that this nozzle is
the bee’s mouth ; this glass tube the bee’s esophagus,
through which the nectar passes into this rubber bulb,
_ which we will call, if you please, the honey-crop. Now
our bee has a full crop and wants to get it emptied into |
the honey-cell. All she has to do is to squeeze the crop

tightly enough.”’

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 1%

cS

Z
Shi
My

cia A

U/

|
|

Ss
Ns
= FIG. 60.—MRS. BUMBLE FILLS THE HONEY JARS.
Q
S ‘*Does she do it with her paws?’ ex-

claimed the lad, his face all aglow with

the interest and excitement of his new thoughts.
‘‘Not quite that, Harry,’’ I replied, smiling; ‘‘ but
that’s the principle. Instead of squeezing the crop
with ber hands, she causes the muscles which surround
it to contract, and that presses tightly upon it. Just as
my hand is opened and shut at once by certain muscles
that expand and contract—thus !—so the bee’s crop is
pushed together and filled out again by the muscles that
surround it. Now, suppose my fingers to represent
those muscles ; they tighten upon the crop—so ! (squeez-

ing the bulb), and then what happens ?”’

180 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘*Tseeit!’’exclaimed Harry. ‘‘ The honey is squeezed
into the tube, and up, up, till it comes out uy the
noz—the mouth, I mean—just like the water-drops. iL
understand, truly !’” 7

‘* Does all honey go through that process—down the
bee’s throat and up wgain ?”’ asked Abby.

‘‘ All genuine honey does. But over-fastidious people
can find plenty of the counterfeit article. Though lam
no wise certain that they will find anything that goes
through a process of manufacture as thoroughly clean
and wholesome as the originai.’’

“We have had so many wonders this evening,”
said the Doctor, ‘“‘that I am doubtful if we can in-
wardly digest much more; but there is one point
further that I would like you toclear up for me. What
is the bee-basket in which the pollen is carried home ?”’

FIG. 61..—THE BEE BASKET (FROM NATURE.)

‘‘T°d like to know ’bout that myself,’ said Hugh.
“‘T’ve often heerd bee-raisers talkin’ uv the ‘ basket,’
and one day tried to study it out from some dead

bees.

THE HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 181

But nary basket could I see nuther on head ur tail ur -

back. That’s allus been a myste’y to me.”’

““ Very well, then, my good fellow, I promise that
you shall understand it this
time. You all remember
that I called your attention
to the fact that some of
the humble-bees that came
in when we were hiving
our captured nest had large
balls of flower dust or pol-
len on their hind-legs.”’

“Yes, we remember
that,”? answered Abby.
‘*Some of them were yel-
low, others whitish and
gray. Was that pollen ?”’

“That was pollen, and a
brown, resinous substance
called propolis, more tena-

cious and extensible than

FIG. 62.—HIND LEG OF A
Wax, and well adapted for WORKING HUMBLE-BEE,
cementing and yarnishing. oat Seu eek ea aig

(FROM NATURE.)

Here are several dead bees
_ which I will pass around the circle. Now let us turn
to our manilla ‘black-board’ on the table while I
draw, much enlarged, one of those hind-legs. The
shin or middle portion, you see, is flat, of a triangular
shape, is smooth, shining and slightly hollowed on

the outer side. This horn-like substance forms the

- 182

FIG. 68.—THE BASKBT-BURDENED BEE COMES HOME.

ee

THH HISTORY OF A HUMBLE-BEE. 1838

bottom of the basket. Around the edges of this plate
are placed rows of strong, thickly-set, long bristles,
which curve inward. These are the walls of the
_ basket, and there! we have the structure quite com-
plete. Now take this pocket-lens and tell me if you
see the basket upon those specimens of bees.”

The Mistress and Abby, the Doctor and Hugh—all
succeeded in making out the much talked of receptacle,
and the rest were contented with the rough drawing.

‘* But how does the bee get her materials into her bas-
ket ?’? asked the Doctor.

‘* Ah, I was prepared to hear that. The material is
collected gradually with the mandibles, from which the
short fore-legs gather it. Hence it is passed backward
to the middle-legs by a series of multiplied scrapings
and twistings which I can’t pretend to detail. In the
same way it is sent back once more to the hind-leg, and
is scraped and patted into the basket, where it is secured
from falling out by the walls of bristles whose elasticity
will even allow the load to be heaped beyond their points
without letting it fall. When the busy harvester has
gathered as much as her basket will conveniently hold,
she flies away home and empties her load by a reversal
of the process which filled it. In this work, however,
she is often aided by her fellow-workers.”’
“T pelieve,”’ said the Doctor, ‘‘ that I better under-
stand now the force of the verse concerning the bee
which has crept into the Septuagint version of Proverbs,
sixth chapter and eighth verse. This version was made
from the Hebrew for the Greek-speaking Jews of Alex-

184 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

andria, but the verse has not been found, I believe, in
the original text. It runs thus: ‘* Go to the bee and
learn how diligent she is and what a noble work she
produces, whose labors kings and private men use for
their health; she is desired and honored by all, and
though weak in strength, yet since she values wisdom,
she prevails.”’? I suppose some bee-loving rabbi must
have felt jealous of the prominence given to the ant by
the Wise King and added a comment which future gen-
erations felt bound to accept as good Scripture. At all |
events, it is good sense.”’

“And yet,’? remarked Abby, ‘“‘when a man lacks
wisdom, is a bit hair-brained and visionary, we say that
he has a ‘bee in his bonnet.’ How is that ?”

‘‘It is inconsistent enough,’’? replied the Doctor;
‘but our Scotch friends are responsible for the proverb.
IT suppose it is a case of giving one a character from a
single quality, and that by no means truly characteris-
tic. Certainly, I at least shall think of something more
than mere ‘ buzzing’ when I remember the bee.”’

The full moon had now risen, and its silver light
could be seen in the distance shimmering upon the
broad Delaware and the Jersey coast beyond. The
Doctor had declined our invitation to spend another
night with us, and made ready to return to Marple.
Followed bv cordial good-byes, the good man, with his.
old carry-all and chestnut-bay horse, drove away under

the moonlight, and the farm-house settled down to rest.

CHAPTER XI.

INSECT ENGINEERING—BRIDGE BUILDING AND
BALLOONING SPIDERS. _

OCTOBER is the golden month of the American calen-
dar. There is an indescribable mellowness in the
atmosphere, as though the year had centered all the
luscious fruitage of her ripening upon this halcyon
season. The air is warm, but crisp with ozone. At
times the sky is clear as in midwinter ; again the land-
scape is wrapped in a soft haze through which distant
objects loom with indistinct outlines like the remem-
bered objects of one’s dream. All healthful life in
Nature finds a joy in very being, none the less because
there hangs upon all things a prophetic tone of coming
dissolution. The melancholy days are not yet quite
**come,’’ but are coming, and are near. The leaves are
adding to their summer green the first tints of russet,
yellow, and scarlet that shall by-and-by enfold them in
their dying glory. . The insect-world is still full of life ;
but already in many species motherhood has paid to
posterity the last penalty of Nature, and in many others
the reservoirs of life are running low. But the waning
and the waxing of life go on together. Parents are

dying, but children are gaining in vigor. Multitudes

{or 18s

186 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

have been seized by the strange instinct of migration,
and are being swept by its resistless force into the cur-
rents of a new and independent existence. And
thereby hangs the tale which this chapter is in part to
unfold. ae

On such a morning as I have described Dan entered
the kitchen precincts with a rueful face.

‘f'W’at’s the matter ?’’ asked Sarah sharply. ‘‘You
look like the final judgment had come. Is your cle
woman dead, or ’ve ye lost your ’baccy pouch ?”

‘*Dar’s no ’casion for levity, Sairy Ann,”’ said the old
man solemnly. ‘‘T’ings’s bad nuff, aad y ll see it
byne by.”’

‘*Goody gracious me! Do speak up, man, and let’s
know the wust on ’t at wanst! Wat ’s happened ?”’

‘“W’y sumfin mighty awful ’s happen’d. I cl’ar to
goodness dat Mars Mayfield’s done gone—cl’ar—crazy!”’
Dan lowered his voice, and spoke in a husky sort of a
erowl which he doubtless meant for a whisper.

‘‘ Crazy??? screamed Sarah. ‘‘ W’at on airth—’’ She
stopped short in her sentence, for at that moment the
Mistress entered the room. She had heard the ominous
word on Sarah’s lips and saw the terrified look upon
both countenances. Her face blanched, and she sank
into a chair overcome by an indefinable dread of some
unknown peril. Her thoughts had run directly to her
husband, who an hour or more ago had gone into the
‘ fields. Many readers will sympathize with the Mis-
tress, though none, perhaps, can give any better reason

than she why such unreasonable antieivations of evil to

INSHCT ENGINEERIN G; fread lissT

the best beloved should inevitably arise on occasions of
sudden alarm.

The Mistress is not a woman to give way long before
an unseen trouble. In a moment she had rallied, and
demanded the cause of the excitement which she had
witnessed.

Dan doffed his hat, thrust his great gaunt hands
through his matted hair, and began a stammering ex-
planation. 3

** W’y—w’y, you see, Miss Maytiel’, I war gwine froo
de meadow while ago, and I sees Mars’ Mayfiel’ out
dar standin’ by de fence-pos’. He had ’is little spy-
glass’n ’is ’an, and wur a-spyin’ somethin’ ’r odder. Jes
den—’’

The Mistress started to her feet.

** Has he been hurt ? ‘Tell me !”’

titan: INO; miss, not a’ tall; nuflin ’v the:kin’, I
do shore you. ’Z I wur sayin’, jes den I seed ’im
jump de fence like a wil’ colt an’ break off ober de
meadow like mad. He ran back and forrud, zigzaggin’
across de fiel’ in de mos’ cur’us way. Den he stopped
stock still, and went back to de fence and spied at an-
other pos’, and off he goes ag’in like mad—”’

The old man emphasized the last word, cast a pecu-
liarly sad look toward the Mistress, and then went on,
with the circumlocution which his tender heart had
suggested :

**Off he shoots agin, I say, jes like mad, and goes
froo wunst more dem wild zigzaggin’ motions. I stood
* watched ’im a w’ile, and then, clar to goodness,

188 THNANTS OF AN OLD FART,

Misses, I done got right sick a seein’ poor Mars’ May-
fiel’ tuk that a-way—so cur’us like—’s tho’ he’d done
loss ?is senses, and so I jes come straight home, and—”’

‘“ Oh, fudge !”’

The Mistress broke in abruptly upon Dan’s story.
Her face had undergone a strange transformation
us the narrative proceeded. Its whiteness slowly
flushed into crimson; its lines of anxiety gradu-
ally relaxed into curves of mirthfulness. Then came
another change—tears mounted to the eyes, and, as
they trickled out upon the cheeks, Dan had reached the
climax of his story, and the good woman broke out into
her hysterical cry of mingled anger, amusement and
joy. Without another word she turned and left the
kitchen, leaving Dan overwhelmed with amazement.

‘‘Lawh bress yer, honey!’ he said at last. ‘De
news ’s been too much for her. It’s done turned her
own head, too !”

Sarah was not much clearer than Dan in her view of
the situation ; but she saw, at least, that the old ser-
vant had made some sort of a mistake. She, therefore,
came to his relief in her usual sharp way.

‘There, Dan! Go long, now, to your work. Youve
been makin’ a fool ’v yorself agin’, ’s usual. An’
w’at’s wuss, you ’ve gi’en the Mistress a powerful bad
skeer. Purty feller you are, makin’ out that your
betters is crazy ! I reckon you ’re an old crank yourself,
an’ orter been sent to the ’sylum long ago. Go ’long,
now, to your work !”

The irate cook flourished her pan so vigorously that

INSECT ENGINEERING. 189

Dan thought her advice was’ worth heeding, and
walked off slowly, shaking his head, and muttering
‘“*Bout half de worl’ is half cracked, anyhow, an’ dat
ole Sairy, de cook is de wuss one among ’em.”’

This is the story that the Mistress had to tell when
we had drawn up %ur chairs to the sitting-room table
for the weekly conversation about our insect Tenants.

The subject was Insect Engineering, and some of my
field studies of the zeronautic flight of spiders, by way of
preparation for our talk, had been the cause of Dan’s
alarm.

“Well, Dan,’’ I said, for the old man was at his
chosen seat on the cricket by the inner door, and
appeared to enjoy the Mistress’s account of his blunder
as much as the rest of us, ‘‘ you ’re not so much to blame
after all. Ican easily think that the strange attitudes
ef an entomologist, while in hot pursuit of his favorite
study, would appear to persons who know nothing of his
tastes and habits like the wild behavior of a madman.
Besides, it is not the first time that I have been thought
a little unsound on account of my natural history

“

studies. Years ago when I first began to follow my

specialties with some zeal, our good Mistress there—as
she afterwards told me—spent many days in anxiety,
and passed many hours in tears over what she supposed
a development of insanity. ”

‘Why, Mrs. Mayfield,’ exclaimed Abby, “could you °
have been so foolish ?”’

‘‘ It was even so,”’ wife answered, ‘‘and the recollec-

tion of that fact proved a great comfort to me this

190

on

WT

WU

FIG. 64.—A4 SPIDER’S SUSPENSION BRIDGE.—p. 192.

oOo ee

INSHCT ENGINEERING. TOM

morning ; for it helped me to interpret the behavior that
led Dan quite astray.”’

‘‘Tam reminded,’’ I remarked, ‘‘of an incident re-
lated to me by Professor Hayden of the Geological Sur-
vey. One day while engaged in geological studies on
the great American plains, he found himself widely
separated from his party, and started out in search of
it. Presently, the outlines of human forms appeared
. upon the horizon, and thinking them to be his friends
he turned his steps toward them. As he drew nearer
he perceived that they were a band of Indians. Greatly
alarmed, for there were hostile tribes in the vicinity, he
turned and fled. But the Indians already had seen him.
At best he was no match in speed for them, but he was
now weighted down with specimens of various rocks and
fossils, and was soon overtaken and surrounded. He
was bidden to dismount, and immediately the savages,
who had also dismounted, began to strip him of his
personal possessions. Knife, hammer, watch, disap-
peared. Then the red hands were plunged into his
pockets and withdrawn full of—stones ! Again and again
this was repeated ; pockets, pouch, saddle-bags, all were
emptied, and, as the pile of rocks grew upon the ground
beside him, his plunderers broke into a loud laugh.
Then they looked at him carefully, touched their fore-
heads significantly, as much as to say “he is crazy.”
and with that strange reverence for the insane, which
characterizes our American Indians, they respectfully
returned to him all his goods, mounted their broncos

and rode.away. I suspect that the savages are not

192 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

the only persons who reason that one who can devote
himself to collecting ‘‘rocks and bugs’ is crazy. For
my part, 1 have about concluded that I was much nearer
perfect sanity in the days spent as a naturalist than
afterward, when breaking down my health by hard
work in collecting a fortune.”

‘‘ But tell us,’? asked Abby, ‘‘ what you were doing
in the meadow when Dan saw you. I don’t wonder, if
his description is correct, that he did think you a little
nears.) |

‘‘Dan’s description,’? I replied, laughing, ‘‘ was a
very good one, from the standpoint of an outside
observer. The explanation is this: I had stationed
myself by the fence to watch the ‘flying spiders’ as
they are popularly called. This has been a golden day
for the young balloonists, and they have been improving
it finely. As I walked out this morning I saw long,
white filaments of silk streaming from fence-posts, tall
stalks of grass, clumps of weeds, shrubs, almost every
elevated object in the fields. “I knew by this token that
the balloonists were abroad and busy. As I passed the
2un I saw just at the point where it widens into the little
pool an object of great beauty. It was a tiny and deli-
cate, but perfect, and quite strong suspension bridge.”
(Fig. 64.)

‘“A pridge!’? exclaimed Abby. “It is some’ of
Harry’s work, I warrant. He is the handiest boy in
school with his jack-knife, and beats even our New
England lads, which is saying a good deal.”

I smiled and glanced at Harry, whose face colored

INSECT ENGINEERING. 193

under his partial teacher’s praise. ‘‘ Well, my boy,
what say you? Was it your work ?”

‘“No, sir; I never! I’ve got a ‘flutter wheel’ up
there by the riffles, but nary bridge. I dunno who did
it at all.” :

‘*T quite believe you, Harry. Let me show you how
the bridge was made, and that will help us to find the
architect. ’’ . :

In lieu of a blackboard I had provided a package of .
wide manilla wrapping-paper and crayons. ‘These
served admirably for the rude outline sketching, by
‘which I hoped in future to make our conversations
somewhat more interesting to a mixed company, such
as ours.

‘* Here is the run ; on this clump of cat-tails was fixed
one of the anchorages ; on the opposite bank, a-top of
this cluster of flags, was the other abutment. Here
from side to side was stretched a foundation line, and
just below it another.”’

‘What sort of stuff were they made of?’’ asked
Hugh Bond.

“To be sure, I should have mentioned that before.
They were silken lines. Between the two, near the
middle point, was constructed a series of truss-like sup-
ports, something like this.”

The family group had gathered about the table, and
bent over, eagerly watching the movements of my pen-
cil. Before I had finished the sketch two or three veices
exclaimed in chorus :

** A spider’s web ?”

194 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘‘ Yes, the snare of an orb-weaving spider. That is
the suspension bridge which attracted my attention this
morning, and I certainly think it a very pretty and in-
genious one. A little further down the stream where
the bank rises higher and is crowned on either side with
sumach and blackberry vines, another orb-weaver had
stretched her cables, and when I first noticed her. was
running along one line toward the center. She hung,
head downward, and moved one leg after another in a
hand-ovec-hand sort of way. When she reached the
middle point of the line, she began spinning a round
web like this which I have drawn.’

‘‘ How did she git those lines across the run ?”’ asked
Hugh; ‘‘ that puzzlesme. She didn’t swim across
with it, I reckon? ‘Though I have seed spiders swim-
min’ or runnin’ on the water.’’

** Not this kind, Hugh. Our spider laid the main
cables of her bridge in a quite different way. The fact
is she proceeded much in the manner of Charles Ellet,
the erigineer who built the:first suspension bridge over
Niagara river in 1840. The first difficulty to be over-
come was to get a string across the chasm. <A reward
of five dollars was offered for the first string landed on
the opposite shore and this brought a host of kite-flyers
to the scene. The kites fluttered like a flock of birds
across the whirling flood and soon entangled on the bank
beyond. The first string thus stretched, a wire was
next drawn across, and heavier wires in succession fol-
lowed until the great foundation cables were laid at
length, and thence the weaving of the substantial wire

.
|

INSECT HNGINEERING. 195

bridge became compara-
tively easy.”’ (Fig. 65.)
. ‘You don’t mean to
FIG. 65.—KITING THE CATARACT. y
tell us that spiders

really fly kites?’’ asked Abby rather doubtingly.

‘* Well, it amounts about to that ; although, properly
speaking, they fly cords instead of kites. Asa rule,
there is no object at the end of their lines which corre-
sponds to the kite itself, although T have sometimes
seen even: that closely represented by broadened bits of
silk, hammock-shaped ribbon, attached to the filaments
spun out by orb-weavers when preparing for eronautic
flight. However, the principle upon which a spider
stretches her bridge-lines across a stream, or practices
ballooning, is precisely that upon which American boys
and Chinese men fiy their kites ; so that the engineer of

196 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

the Niagara bridge and the spider-engineer of the silken
bridges over Townes’ Run operated upon the same prin-
ciple. ”’

‘But tell us how it was done,” said Abby. “I
haven’t the most remote idea how such a creature can
fiy either a ‘kite’ or a ‘string,’ much less how it can
go * ballooning.’ ” | .

‘*T will do so, and that brings me to the starting point

of Dan’s morning experience. When he saw me I was
standing by a fence-post watching a small saltigrade
spider mount into the air. Its head was toward the
wind, its eight feet spread out in a circle, its abdomen
turned in the direction of the wind and elevated about
45°, From the little rosette of spinning mammals at
the end of the abdomen issued several very delicate fila-
ments which were caught by the breeze and floated
upward to the length of several feet. The legs of the
animal gradually bent backward and downward, and
then—pop ! with a quick vauit the wee creature was off
and away. (Fig. 66.)

‘‘T leaped the fence, followed at full speed, trying to
keep my eyes upon the eronaut, which, of course, at
times compelled me to run back and forth, and at zig-
zag, as Dan put it, over the meadow. This had to be
repeated with a number of specimens ; but in the course
of the morning I succeeded in confirming and complet-
ing observations which I had made years ago.”

‘But, tell us,’ Abby asked, ‘Show the spiders got
started in their flight over the meadow, and what that

has to do with your suspension bridges ?”’

INSHOT ENGINEERING. 197

FIG. 66.—BALLOONING OR FLYING SPIDERS.

“Pardon me. I had taken too much for granted, [
see. The spider, clinging to the post, sets its spinning
apparatus in operation ; the liquid silk, as it issues from
silk glands through the many tiny tubes on the spin-
uerets, is immediately hardened at contact with the air.
is caught by the wind and drawn out into long threads.
Presently enough thread is Spun out to overcome by its

198 _ TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

buoyancy the weight of a spider, precisely as the buoy-
ancy of a balloon overcomes the weight of the zeronaut
and his car, and permits them to ascend into and float
upon the air. At that moment, which the spider re-
cognizes by. the upward traction of the threads, she
leaps up and is carried off in the direction of the wind.
Immediately after mounting she turns around, grasps
her thread-balloon with her feet, spins out a little basket
or mesh of connecting lines which her feet clasp, and
then emits from her spinnerets another pencil of deli-
cate threads. She now rides on a tiny net, hung back
downward between the two long, floating filaments,
and is carried before the wind ‘ where it listeth,’ until
the balloon strikes and entangles upon bush, tree, or
other elevated object, when she dismounts and sets up
housekeeping for herself.”’

‘* Have the spiders any control of their own descent ?”’
asked Abby, ‘‘or are they wholly dependent upon the
action of the wind ?”’

‘“‘T should have answered, before this morning, that
they are entitely at the mercy of the wind. But I
have now seen that which changes my opinion. One
of the balloonists whom I carefully observed to-day,
secured its own descent by gradually drawing in the
floating lines until they gathered in a minute white
pellet above the mandibles. As the lnes shortened
the buoyancy decreased, the weight of the spider yielded
to gravitation, until gradually she was drawn to the
ground and alighted on the grass. If this observation
shall be confirmed as a truly typical one, wemust concede

INSECT ENGINEERING. 199

FIG. 67.—BALLOONING SPIDER PREPARING TO ASCEND.

that the little aranead produces, by lengthening her
lines, a result similar to that of the human eronaut who
throws out his ballast of sand; and, by gathering in the
lines, accomplishes what ballooning man performs when
he pulls the valve and permits the gas to escape.”’

“To return to our bridge. The orbweaver when

200 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

building a snare proceeds, in the main, after the manner
of the ballooning saltigrade. She stations herself upon
a leaf or branch, or top of a twig, opens her spinnerets _
and emits a thread which the wind takes up and carries
out until it entangles on some adjacent object. At
other times she drops from her perch, spinning after
her a thread, to the end of which she hangs in a little
meshed basket rapidly woven. While swinging in this —
position she emits her trial lines as before.

‘* Now, let us suppose our orbweaver seated upon this
tall cat-tail, seeking to make her web (Fig. 67). The wind
blows straight across the Run, and carries out her thread.
It catches upon the opposite clump of flags, afact which
the engineer at once perceives, and draws the line taut.
She pulls upon it with her feet to test it, then ven-
tures upon it, and rapidly runs across, dragging after
her a second cord, which unites with and strengthens
the first.

‘*I chanced to be in New York when Farrington, the
engineer, made the first voyage upon the initial cables
of the Brooklyn bridge across the East River, and, upon
invitation of a friend, went down to witness the transit.
As I watched the bold fellow hung far aloft and moving
above the sea waves beneath, I was so forcibly re-
minded of this behavior of my spider friends which I
have just been describing, that I could not forbear
pointing out the likeness to my friend, a distinguished
engineer, very much to his disgust (Fig. 68.)

‘The cable which the spider has thus formed is
strengthened by several overlays, made in successive

INSECT ENGINEERING. 201

FiG. 68.—THE ORIGINAL BROOK-
——— LINE BRIDGE.—‘‘ ENGINEER

oer :
A a Cees ARACHNE MAKES THE FIRST CROSSING.”’

trips back and forth, until it is strong enough to serve
as a foundation cable. A second cable is stretched in
a similar manner, and then the little architect proceeds
to weave in her snare.”’

‘“‘ How long are those foundation lines ?’’ asked the
Schoolma’am.

*“That depends upon the direction of the wind and
character of the site. If there are Ee objects

202 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

quite near in the direct course of the threads the lines
will soon entangle and be short; but if there be a wide,
Open space before the lines they will stretch out for a
goodly distance. Our Townes’ Run bridge cables were
not above ten feet long, but I have seen such lines
twenty-five, thirty, and even some of forty feet in
length stretched from tree to tree across a country
road.”’

‘* I mind seein’ one, sir,’’ said-Hugh,’’ right here on
the old farm much longer than them. I was crossin’
the yard a leetle arter sun-up w’en I seed suthin’
glintin’ in the air like a fine wire. It stretched from
a bush, aside the kerriage-entrance, across the track.
I didn’t see the ends of the thing, just the middle part,
and I thot at wunst that some rascal had been stretchin’
a wire across the road to knock off the hats of horse-
men—it was about that height. I was mighty angry,

>v course, and went. to pull down the wire, w’en lo, an’

behold, it wur a spider web! I felt powerful small at

bein’ fooled so, but somehow the thread seemed
magnified by the sun, an’ I only seed it now an’ ag’in
as the light twinkled on it. However, I concluded to
measure it. I followed it with my eye clare to the top
*y the old sycamore tree, and calkerlated that it was
more *n a hundred feet long. I never thot much about
it, and never said nothin’ till now. I’ve often seed
them stringin’ webs around the place, but never one

anythin’ like ’s long as that “n. I never know’d how
they wur made nuther; an’ I’m very much obleeged

to you fer tellin’ us.”’

|
a
‘
4
.

INSECT ENGINEERING. 203

‘© And for my part, I am greatly obliged to you,
Hugh, for your fact, which is really a valuable contribu-
tion to our knowledge, as I also have never seen nor
heard of a spider’s bridge-line as long as the one you
describe. There are many such facts, by the way,
picked up by non-scientific observers in ordinary life,
which would be of greatest value to the naturalist
could they be made known.

‘‘ While we are on this subject I may say that young
spiders often manage to string out structures that
oddly resemble a bridge in miniature. After emerging
from the egg-nest or cocoon, they spend a short season
in colony, hanging together in little balls. (See chapter
iii.) Soon they begin to move, and as they go they
drag after them fine filaments of silk. A hundred
spiderlings, more or less, passing from point to point,
and back and forth among the bushes by single bridge-
lines, and keeping close together, will not be long in
laying out a series of lines and ribbons that remind one
strongly of the roadway, trusses and cables of a bridge.
One of the most curious miniatures of this sort which I
have known was once made in my study. A package
of cocoons, spun by an orbweaving spider, sent me
from California, was laid upon my table. One morning
upon entering the room, I found that the spiders had
hatched and issued from the perforations in the lid of
the package, which was a large cylindrical tin fruit-
can.

‘‘From the summit of this can, as from a bridge-pier,
the spiderlings had strung their lines to books and

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INSECT ENGINEERING. 205

paper boxes laid along the table, and which thus formed
a series of piers and abutments. They had already
woven a sheeted way, several inches wide, that stretched
above the middle of the table for five feet. Thence it
spread upward to the window curtain in diverging
threads, among which many of the wee adventurers
hung (Fig. 69.) I kept the bridge for several days, dur-
ing which time the ‘‘roadway’’ received many addi-
tional strings, and some of the baby bridge-builders
spun delicate little cob-webs along the edges and among
the trusses of their bridge, and separating themselves
from their fellows, set up housekeeping for themselves. ”’

CHAPTER XII,
ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER.

*“WuHy should your engineer friend have been dis-
gusted at you for pointing out an analogy between the
works of man and those of the spider ?” asked Abby,
abruptly. ‘* For my part I think the likeness is very
remarkable. ”’

‘* Precisely my thought,’’ said the Mistress. ‘‘ It is
wonderful! It seems incredible that such human-like
behavior should belong to so lowly a creature, I verily
believe that I shall never again brush down a cobweb
without compunction !”’

‘‘T count that saying a triumph, indeed,”’ I remark-
ed with pleasure ; ‘‘coming as it does from one who
is the pink of perfection as a housekeeper, and withal
full of natural prejudices against ‘ bugs,’ it shows how
much prevalent dislike of the living things of nature
arises from lack of knowledge of their interesting habits.

‘‘IT am happy to say that my friend, the engineer,
soon came to the same view. He had concluded hastily
that I had belittled the greatest engineering work of the
age by an unworthy comparison, and the suggestion that
man had been the copyist of the aranead. On the con-
trary, I showed him that these were only indications,

independently reached. of the one great Over-mind of

206 (aes

ARGONAUT AND GHOMETER. 207

nature, working similar ends by analogous principles of
action implanted within creatures most widely sepa-
rated in organization and endowments. Surely there
could be nothing humiliating in that ?”’

‘We were presently joined. by a party of gentlemen,
among whom was one of Mr. Roeblinyg’s assistants upon
the Brooklyn Bridge. He was greatly interested in our
conversation, and I ventured to carry my analogy a
little further. This gentleman, on a previous occasion,
had given me a detailed account of the building of the
caissons upon which the immense stone piers had been
constructed. I asked him:

‘‘Am I right, Mr. Assistant, in supposing that the
principles upon which these caissons have been built are
those of the diving-bell and compression of air ?”’

‘* Yes; I suppose that we might say that very truly.”’

“Well, then, I will venture to say that I can find the
same principles embodied in, I will not say anticipated
by the work of a spider.

‘Well, sir,’ said the Assistant, *‘ you may, doubt-
less, succeed ; but haven’t you undertaken a pretty
heavy contract ?”’ ,

‘You shall judge the issue. Here now,” taking a
note-book from my pocket, ‘‘is a rough sketch of the
cell or nest of the water spider (Argyroneta aquatica),
which is found in some of the streams of England. It
is an egg-shaped silken sac, about the size of an
acorn, which is woven upon water-plants underneath
the surface. In the bottom part of the cell is a small

circular opening. The cell, as first woyen, is simply a

208 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

i

————— 3
———— i
—— er
Se
a

FIG. 70.— WATER SPIDERS AND THEIR EGG-SAC CAISSON.

’

flat, empty sac, with the mouth downward, and as the
spider is an air-breathing animal, is, of course, useless
as a domicile in that condition.”’

The gentleman followed my sketch with as much
interest as you all show in this crayon outline. (Fig.70.)

‘* Now, look -here !’’ said my friend. ‘* You’re not

ARGONAUT AND GHOMETER. 209

going to tell us that your spider will introduce air into
that cell ?”

“That is precisely what I shall tell you. Can you
guess how it will be done?”

‘¢T have been trying to think; but I haven’t the re-
motest notion how the creature could proceed. I can’t
imagine what implements it possesses for inflating such
a structure in such a site.”’

“It is done thus: The spider ascends to the surface
slowly, assisted by a thread attached to a leaf or other
support below and at the surface of the water. When
it nears the top it turns, with the extremity of the
abdomen upward, and exposes a portion of the body to
the air for an instant. Then with a jerk it snatches, as
it were, a bubble of air, which is attached beneath to
the hairs that cover the abdomen, and is held from
above by the two hinder legs, which are crossed at an
acute angle near their extremity. This crossing of the
legs occurs at the instant the bubble is seized. The
little creature then descends more rapidly than it
mounted, regains its cell, always by the same route,
turns the abdomen within the mouth, and disengages
the bubble. This is repeated many times until the
sac is filled and rounded out with air. This cell serves
the water spider as living-room, dining-room and nur-
sery. Here she spins her saucer-shaped cocoon, fixing
it against the inner side of the cell near the top. Out
of it, by and by, issue a hundred spiderlings, who spend
their babyhood in this ingenious home, literally

‘Rocked in the cradle of the deep.’

210 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘‘ Now, gentlemen,’’? I asked, ‘‘ have I proved my
proposition ?”’ :

‘You have come pretty near doing it, at all events,”
said the Assistant.

‘‘ Truly,’’ said my friend, ‘“‘if your facts are quite
authentic, as Iam bound to believe, your spider pets
are worthy an honorary place in the guild of civil en-
gineers. Indeed,’’ he added, laughing, ‘‘I think that
I shall suggest this animal as the most suitable emblem
for our Philadelphia Engineers’ Club.”’

‘‘T am sure that we all agree with those learned
gentlemen,’’? remarked Abby.

‘Thank you,’’ I returned ; ‘‘I think I shall confirm
your good opinion by going back to the geometric
spider, whom we left crossing her completed bridge-
cable to begin the building of her snare. The manner
in which this is done is most interesting, especially to
one who has a taste for mechanical work. A point
near the center is usually chosen— though not always—
and the spider proceeds first of all to lay out an irregular
polygon of lines which serves as the foundation or frame
work of the orb. Here it is,’’ pointing to the crayon
figure sketched upon the paper ; “‘ and you can see that
such an arrangement adds to the elasticity of the orb,
and so increases its power to resist the force of the wind
and of struggling insects.

‘¢Next our engineer proceeds to lay in the radii or
‘spokes’ of her wheel-shaped web. I do not mean to
say that she has an invariable order of action, but com-
monly she will start with a central diameter; as a c¢

—— eee

a =

ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 211

Bie. 71), at. or
near the middle
point of which
she gathers or
spins a little tuft
of white silk,
which I mark JH.
From this point SS ge age
she proceeds to gt} all iB ANI

put in what we

FIG. 71.—PUTTING SPOKES TO THE

may call her first WHEEL.

pias. Hk, 1

will draw this figure (Fig. 72) to show how this is
done. She drops her spinnerets upon the central tuft
(H), and draws out a line which she seizes by one of
her hind claws and holds out from her body. She
then begins to ascend the upper part (a) of the diameter
ac, and thence passes along the inner foundation line
K (ii, Fig. 71) to the point K. All this time she drags
after her the line which I represent by this dotted line
«, holding it far enough aloof to keep it from entan-
sling with the thread over which she moves. At K
(Fig. 72) she stops, pulls this drag-
line taut, fastens it down to K,
and thus has her first radius K e
Hf, She now returns to the middle

point H, either along the new ra-

dius e, or by the round about

j eer a course Ga r next ra-
eee wna urse of Kanda. Her next ra
RADII. dius is laid in precisely the same

212 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

way, except that it is spun on the opposite part of the
snare. Thus, returning to our first figure (Fig. 71),
she will start from H down the diameter a ¢ to the line
mn, dragging after her, as before, a loose thread which
she tightens, fastens here at n, and thus gets her second
radius. Hence, she will make the radii H i, H m,
Hb, and so on, around the circle.”’

‘*T notiee,’’ said Hugh, ‘‘ that you have drawn those
spokes alternately. That is, you put one on this side
above, and the next on the other side below. That
looks mighty workman-like, sir, jist as though a
mechanic had laid it out. I’ve done a good deal in tin-
kerin’ at carpentry myself, and ef I were building that
kind uy a concern with lumber, or rope, either, I reckon
that’s jist the way I’d set to work. Does the spider
go at it in that judgmatical style, or is it only your way
uv puttin’ it to us ?”

‘‘Tam glad you raised that point yourself,” I replied,
‘* for [had intended to notice it. The spider invariably
puts in her radii in that manner, laying them by what
T have called alternate apposition. I will illustrate this
by another figure. JI once watched an orb-weaver
throughout this part of her spinning-work, and drew
out my note-book and numbered the radii as they were
made. Before it occurred to me to do this, the lines
A, Band D had been spun. The others were placed in,
in about the following order : First, H1 (Fig. 73) ; then,
on the opposite, H2. Next, again opposite, you see,
H3, and after that H4. 5 and 6, 7 and 8, 9 and 10, and
so on through all the seventeen radii which I counted.

ARGONAUT AND. GEOMETER. 213

You observe that
there was a con-
tinual alternation
of the lines, and
for the most part
a double alterna-
tion—that is,
they were op-
posed to each
other not only as
to the sides—
right and left—
but as to the top
and bottom. You

can all see that FIG. 73.—ALTERNATE APPOSITION.

this order kept
the web equally braced and well trimmed from the be-
ginning to the end of the work.”

‘* T see that very clearly,’’? remarked Abby, ‘‘ although
I confess that I have little taste for mechanics. But
that isn’t all of the web, is it? Where are the little
ladders that run up and down from the center?
You pointed them out to me in snares of Orange
Argiope and Cyclosa. Besides, | remember them by
some of my experience in broidery, as this kind of
snare has been very popular in fancy needle-work.”

‘* The ‘ladders,’ as you call them, the spider makes
immediately after the radii, and there is proof of good
engineering in this part of her work also. When the

radii are quite done she braces them around the ends,

214 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

where they converge upon the center by a series
of spiral lines. Then she prepares to put in the
rounds of her ‘ladders,’ which, however, are one con-
tinuous line that passes spirally across all the radii
a number of times, thus forming a series of concentric
circles, See

‘** These spirals are often very numerous ; I have found
as many as fifty or sixty, but generally the number does
not exceed thirty. They are covered with minute
beads of a very sticky substance, which give to the web
its efficiency as a snare. Insects flying against the
lines are nmediately entangled, and before they have
time to struggle free, the watchful spider pounces upon
them. <As the subsistence of the aranad depends upon
these spiral lines their structure becomes a matter of
great importance, and is conducted with becoming
Caves |

‘First of all a foundation or frame-work is spun,
which we will call the spiral foundation. This consists of
several concentric lines, usually about six or eight, which
are also spirals, but are quite dry, that is, without
viscid beads. The spider attaches a thread a short dis-
tance from the center, aud moves around, crossing the
radii at each circle a little further toward the circum-
ference until she has covered sufficient space. She
thus produces a series of spirals whose bounds mark
out the surface over which her beaded spirals are to be
spun.

‘*Here, for example, we have our radii, braced by

these cross lines marked Z (Tig. 74).. Here at O the

a

ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 215

engineer begins —ereie
and moves up- 5 Si LL

ward (we will § ig

say) and out-
ward until she
spins the lines
marked,.1/. I,
Bier V5 - etc;
These are the
spiral founda-
tions, Now the

movement is

A FIG. 74.—SPIRAT, FOUNDATIONS—PUT-
reversed. The RA 8
TING IN THE SPIRALS.

spider begins
at the outer margin of her spiral foundations, and from
that point carries a line around, moving at each round
a little nearer the center. She stops at the inner line
where her foundation spirals had begun (I, Fig. 74).
The series thus formed constitutes the spiral space,
and the lines of this space are the ‘ rounds’ of what
Abby called the ‘ladders.’ In fact, a section of this
part of the web is quite like the shrouds or rope-lad-
ders of a ship. But woe to the voyager who tries to
climb them! They are covered with a substance as
sticky as that which has given the ancient mariner his
favorite nickname of ‘old tar,’ for these are the viscid
spirals of which I spoke a moment ago.

‘‘In spinning this series, the foundation spirals are
used precisely as a scaffolding is used for erecting a
house, I will not explain the process at length, as I

_—

216 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

fear these details are already tiresome to some of you,
but will only say that the spider moves along the radii
and the dry foundation spirals at right angles to them,
dragging after her the viscid line, pulling it taut when
she comes opposite the point from which she started,
very much in the method observed when she makes
the radii. Curiously enough, as she completes the
spirals, she bites away the foundation spiral behind,
just as I have seen builders remove the top timbers of a
scaffolding as soon as the upper parts of a wall are suffi-
ciently advanced toward completion.

‘“Tell me,’”? said Abby, ‘‘a little more about these
beads. What are they made of ?”’

‘‘ They are secreted by the spider from glands that lay
along with the silk glands in the lower part of the body
near the spinning mammals. I have never been able to
separate these glands from those that hold the liquid

‘silk, and they are forced out by the spider through the
spinning-tubes precisely as is the material which forms
the web work. They probably have special tubes
through which they are secreted. I do not know the
composition of the beads ; but ‘ Stickwell & Co.’ never
made anything more viscid. I have kept beaded webs in
good condition’several months. The material looks like
gum, but darkens a little with age. It reflects light,
and I suspect that, along with the open meshes of the
net-like snare, they in this way help to deceive insects
approaching on wing with the impression that no
obstacle lies in their course.”’

‘‘How can the spider make so many beads ?”

-

ee ee SS ae Pe Ved

ARGONAUT AND GHOMETER. 217

asked the Mistress. ‘‘ There must be an immense
number of them! How large are they ?”

‘““To begin with your first question, the beads are
very small. Let me draw a few strings for you. Here
are four sections (Fig. 75, I, II, I11, IV) that will give
you some idea
of their relative
size and = ap-
pearance. For
the actual size
we must use a
pocket-lens ora
microscope:
but, perhaps, I
can show it
thus: This last
line (iv, Fig. 75)
I will represent

FIG. 75.—ARACHNE’S PEARLS—VISCID
BEADS.

here (a, Fig.
75) in natural
length. The divisions on the line iv, marked by little
points, correspond with those on the line a.”

‘* And all those beads are crowded inside that little
line ?”

“Yes; but what they lack in size they make up in
number. I once numbered the beads on a web of
ordinary size by actually counting those upon a given
section, and multiplying the result by the number of
sections. I estimated that there were over 140,000, and
in some snares the number must be much larger. It

218 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

used to be cited as an example of the wonderful in-
dustry and skill of the spider that she could manufac-
ture so vast a quantity of these objects in so short a
time. In point of fact, however, I believe that the
heads form themselves in a very ordinary way. As
they issue from the tubes they gather naturally into
minute drops; the effect, perhaps, being aided by the
twisting of the threads in the quick-moving fingers of
the spinster. However that ‘may be they are truly
Arachne’s pearls, even though like some of those worn
by her sisters of the human species (if rumor speak not
falsely) they are only made of paste. But I have ex-
hausted my subject, even if I have not my class, and
will say good night to our cunning little builder and her
_work.”’

‘* Was it a geometric spider ?”? asked Abby, ‘‘ whose
perseverance, according to the tradition, had such an
influence upon the Scottish monarch Bruce? The
story recently occurred in a reading-lesson of one of
my classes, and I wondered at the time what kind of
spider had the honor to teach royalty such a royal
lesson.”

‘‘T cannot promise to answer your question accur-
ately ; but, at’ all events, let us hear the story. It is
long since I heard it, and we all will be interested in
the telling.”

‘*'The narrative runs somewhat in this wise: While
wandering on the wild hills of Carrick, in order to
escape the emissaries of Edward, Robert Bruce on one
occasion passed the night under the shelter of a poor,

———

—————4
SS

_———}
a

R DO ous

Nae bh PY Asan!
YVR wie

TRY TRY Meg Nee
LES. BobBy Bre

FIG. 76.—PRECEPTOR TO HIS MAJESTY: ROBERT BRUCE

AND THE SPIDER.

219

220 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

deserted cottage. He threw himself upon a heap of
straw, and lay upon his back, with his hands placed
under his head, unabie to sieep. His gaze was fixed
upward among the rafters of the hut, which were
festooned with cobwebs. His mind brooded upon the
hopelessness of the patriotic enterprise in which he was
engaged, and the misfortunes that already had befallen
him. From this train of thought he was diverted by
the efforts of a spider, who had begun to ply its voca-
tion with the first gray light of morning. The object
of the animal was to swing itself by its thread from one
rafter to another, but in the attempt it frequently
failed, each time vibrating back to the point whence it
had started. Twelve times did the little creature try
to reach the desired spot, and as many times was un-
successful. Not disheartened by its failure, it made
the attempt once more, and lo! the rafter was
gained ! ,

‘“*The thirteenth time !? cried Bruce, springing to
his feet. ‘I accept it as a lesson not to despond under
difficulties, and shall once more venture my life for the
independence of my country.’ He renewed the strug-
ole, and this time won success.”’ .

The narrative greatly interested our circle, and had
warm commendation,

““Now comes the question,’’ I said, “whether
Bruce’s spider was an orb-weaver ? Miss Abby’s ver-
sion differs from that which I remember, which made
the spider’s effort one to raise a heavy insect of some
sort to the roof. Such an incident is more natural, and

ARGONAUT AND GHOMETER. 221

the details seem better to correspond with one of our
common species of line-weavers. I have never seen
any sort of spider trying to reach distant points by
oscillating threads, but have often observed them sway-
ing in the wind. But the lesson is worth heeding, by
whatever species taught, and even though it be a fable,
which is not unlikely, our race has a decided tendency
to associate its heroes with such incidents. The story
of Bruce and the spider, for example, has its counter-
part in that of Timon and the ant.

“This tendency is well illustrated by another series
of incidents in which an orb-weayer is, without doubt,
the spider referred to. A friend of mine once told me
that one of his ancestors, during the massacre of
Wyoming, had been saved from death in this way : He
fled before the savages, and was pursued closely by a
warrior, whom he succeeded at last in eluding, and took
refuge in a hollow tree. He had scarcely entered ere a
spider began to spin a web across the opening, and
wrought so vigorously that in a short time she had
woven a beautiful round snare that completely covered
the hole into which the fugitive had crept. The web
had just been completed, and the spider settled in the
center, on the watch for prey, when the pursuing Indian
appeared. He peered under and into every place that
could possibly afford shelter to a man, and, at last,
came to the hollow tree. He glanced at the unbroken
web and the spider quietly seated upon it, concluded
that no one could have crept into that spot, and hurried

on. My friend gave name, date, species and location of

222 TRNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

a
FIG. 77.—‘‘ NOBODY IN, SIR. PASS ON !—p. 221.

tree, all with accuracy of detail, and declared that the
tradition had been handed.down with such positiveness
‘as to render it absolutely certain.

“I questioned the story on the ground that it had
been told of so many persons, at various periods, that
it had become apocryphal. He promised to follow up
the tradition and give me the full proofs, but unfortu-
nately died shortly after, before his purpose had been
fulfilled.’’

‘“‘T have read a like incident as occurring to some of
the martyrs or persecuted saints,’’ said the Mistress.
‘“ Who was it—do you remember ?”?

ARGONAUT AND GHEOMETER. 223

‘The story is told of some persecuted Protestant
leader during Reformation times, whose refuge was an _
oven.

‘Saint Felix of Nola had a similar adventure, as re-
corded in the ‘Lives of the Saints.’ Being hotly
pursued by his enemies, he crept through a hole in an
old ruined wall, which was instantly closed up by the
* spinning-work of spiders. His pursuers, never imagin-
ing that anything could have lately passed where they
saw so compact a spider’s web, after a fruitless search
elsewhere returned in the evening without their prey.
Felix found among the ruins between two bouses an
old well half dry, in which he hid himself for six
months, during which time he was cared for by a
devout Christian woman.

‘*Long before that Mohammed had the same ex-
perience when fleeing from the Koreishites with Abu-
pbeker. The two men, says the tradition, hid them-
selves for three days in a cave, over the mouth of
which a spider spread its web and a pigeon laid two
eggs there, the sight of which prevented the pursuers
from searching within, and thus the prophet and his
friend were preserved.

‘“ But the earliest incident of this sort which I recall
is told of David, the King of Israel. The Jews have a
tradition that when he was fleeing before Saul he took

refuge within one of the spacious limestone caverns
found in southern Palestine. The friendly spider there-
upon appeared precisely as in the other cases; the pur-
suers passed on, and the fugitive escaped.”’

224 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘Do you believe that any of these incidents really
occurred ?”? asked Abby.

‘“’There may have been in some one case a basis of
fact for the tradition. It is certainly not improbable.
But for the most part I count the stories mere fictions,
or perhaps fables, intended to teach a lesson of respect
for the most despised creatures of God ; or perhaps to
illustrate the Divine Providence. Be that as it may, it
would hardly do for fugitives in our day to rely upon
any such interposition, for men have now learned
pretty well how rapidly a spider can spin her snare,
and he would be a dull fellow who could be balked of
his victim by a mistake on this point.”

‘* Wal now, Mars’ Mayfiel’,’? remarked Dan, ‘‘ I doan
tink so poreley uv de spiders as: uv mos’ oder insec’s.
De fac’ is, dey’s mighty peert critters, and dey eats up
de bugs powerful. Dey doan do no harm at all, dat I
eber seed, ’ceptin’ a bite wunst in a wile. Some
folk ’s awful feard to have one git on ’em; but I often
heerd in ole Marylan’ dat you mustn’t nebber kill a
spider dat lights on your close; kaze ef yo’ do yo’
destroys de presents dey’s a-weavin’ fur you. But I’m
not so shore ’bout dat ; I’ve had a heap o’ spiders light
on me, and de. presents es a-been skeerce as duck teeth
fur all dat. ‘Mebbe it’ll be all right’ dough nex’ Christ-
mas. De luck mus’ change some time, I reckon.”

The old fellow bent himself over upon his folded arms,
rolled his white eyes in a knowing and comical way
toward the Mistress, rocked his body to and fro, and

broke into one of his soft, unctuous laughs.

ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 220

* What Dan means,”’ said Sarah, taking up the con-

versation, ‘‘is them little bits of spiders—baby spiders,
I’spose they are. °*T any rate they’re wee things that
drop on you from the ceiling or trees by long threads.
I’ve heerd ’em called money-spinners, and they say
they’ll bring good luck if you don’t kill or hurt ’em, or
brush ’em off when they’re first seen. If you do take
’em off your clothes you must throw ’em over the left
shoulder, an’ that saves the luck. I wouldn’t kill one
of them monney-spinners on no account ; but law sakes »
alive ! that’s nothin’ to do with the big spiders that spin
cobwebs in the corners! There’s no good luck in them;
an nobody but a sloven ’ud let ’em stay around. I
_ sweep ’em out without marcy.”’
- “But, Sairy Ann,” said Dan, ‘“‘ you neber oughter
. kill a spider inside de house. Ef you mus’ do’t, w’y
do’t out’y doors. Et’s jes’ pullin’ down your own house
to killa spider indoors.”’

‘** The notion about the money spinners,’’ I remarked,
‘fis, or was, quite prevalent in England and Scotland,
and I have often heard it here in America. I never
quarrel with it, for it goes some length toward preserv-
ing the best of our animal friends from senseless hatred
and destruction. I recall another use of the superstition
made by a quaint old divine: ‘ When a spider is found
upon your clothes,’ he says, ‘ we used to say some money
is coming toward us. The moral is this: Such who
imitate the industry of that contemptible creature may,
by God’s blessing, weave themselves into wealth and
procure a plentiful estate.’ ”’

226 THENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘* The most curious thing to me about spiders,” re-
marked Hugh, ‘‘is w’ere they come from; I’ve known
a house to be cleaned thorough from top to bottom,
and almost in a night a new crop sprung up. You
w’itewash a fence or a wall till there’s not a cobweb
to be seen, and it’s no time afore they’re spun. up
ag’in, bad as ever. I’ve hear’n that spiders breed from
some kind of seeds that putrefy in the air, or spring up
spontaneous from any sort of corruption. It does look
somethin’ like it, but w’at puzzles me is that they breed
so rapid on places that have jest been. swept an’
purified.’

‘“There, Hugh,’’. I answered, *‘ you have touched
upon a very old conceit. It was a favorite theory among
ancient writers that spiders, and, indeed, many other
creatures, were generated spontaneously from decay-
ing objects. That arose quite naturally from seeing
such matter usually covered with insects. The rapidity
with which multitudes swarm to decomposing sub-
stances must have appeared wonderful, as it. still
appears to people who had no knowledge of the hordes
who lurk in trees, bush and weeds, and burrow in every
inch of soil. They are natural scavengers, and the
presence of corrupt material attracts them immediately
in immense numbers to the work for which they are
fitted.

‘“Some devour the substance, some remove it,
some bury it, many at once deposit in it eggs, or even
bring forth worms which fill it with living creatures in

an incredibly short space of time. The ancients, igno-

ARGONAUT AND GHOMETER. 227

rant of these facts, believed that such animals had been
spontaneously generated.”’

‘“‘ But, father,’’? said the Mistress, ‘‘all this doesn’t
quite cover the point that Hugh has raised about the
spiders. That does seem strange ; although, of course,
I know that they are bred from the eggs, and ‘don’t
spring out of dust and decay.”’

‘“‘{ will come to that,’’ I answered ; ‘‘ and I can best
illustrate it by an incident that occurred last summer.
I spent a week with a party of friends fishing upon the
St. Lawrence River. Our fishing ground lay between
Alexandria Bay and Lake Ontario, a region which in
summer time abounds with spiders, who are nested
along the shores and among the trees that cover the
beautiful Thousand Islands. The skipper of our steam
yacht, who soon discovered my entomological hobby,
related an experience very much like Hugh’s.
© °T can’t imagine where all the spiders come from,’
he said. ‘ Every morning I find their round webs spun
all over the boat in amazing quantities. I have them
cleaned out carefully, and the next day there they are as
thick as ever! They keep it up that way all summer,
and the spiders are just as thick at the end of the
season as the beginning. Where do they come from?
How do they get aboard the boat ? I never found any-
body who knew, and if you'll solve the mystery ll be
obliged.”

‘** Fortunately, I was able to give a satisfactory expla-
nation. It chanced that on my way to Alexandria Bay

IL took the evening passenger boat that plies between

228 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM,

that point and the railroad terminus. The shadows
began to lengthen as Isat in the stern of the steamer
watching the charming panorama of green shore,
rocky islands, and lovely villas unfold while we steamed
through the transparent stream.

‘Suddenly a dark object passed between me and the
scene. It was a huge Furrow spider (petra str), lay-
ing out the foundation lines of her snare. She had
dropped from the cornice of the upper deck to the bul-
wark, and was mounting again when I caught sight of
her. Another and another followed, and before we
landed several webs were spun against the roof. I
peeped under the railing against which my seat was
placed, and found a number more cozily ensconced
within their tough silken tubes awaiting the nightfall -
to begin operations.

‘Our skipper’s yacht I soon found to be occupied by
a colony of the same species, and I solved his mystery
by calling attention to the fact.

‘* These spiders, at various times, have come aboard
on little silken balloons, which, as they were borne
across the river, struck upon your boat. The tiny
aeronauts dismounted, and took up their quarters.
They rarely appear in daytime, but at night, after you
have landed and gone home, they creep out, spin
their webs, and feed upon night-flying insects. In the
morning, before you are ready to sail again, they are
back to their dens and tents in crannies under the
mouldings. Your men brush down their webs—that’s
all! The spiders weave them next morning, quite un-

ARGONAUT AND GEOMETER. 229

eoncerned. and so the year wears on. They even breed
on your yacht, I find, and have probably been suc-
ceeded by their offspring in this ‘life on the ocean
wave.’ ”’

*** Well, well,’ said the skipper, ‘that’s a kind of
stowaway I never heard of before. I shall know now
how to make a clean sweep of them hereafter ; but,
really, I don’t know that I shall do so, for such cute
little beggars are almost entitled to a free passage.’

‘**True enough,’ I replied, ‘and, moreover, they
quite earn their way by ridding the vessel of more
objectionable entomological passengers, who are popu-
larly supposed to have free lodgings on water craft !’

““*QOh! as to that,’ was the quick response, ‘ we
don’t have any such shipmates aboard this boat!”

CHAPTER XIII.

A BATTLE, A CONQUEST AND A NIGHT-RAID.—THE
CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS.:

THE morning following our last conversation was one
of rare excitement at the old farm. One of our most
esteemed household pets is Dolf, the dog. He is a cross
between a bulldog and a shepherd, is an admirable
watchdog, a devoted friend and follower of his master,
and has conceived a warm attachment for the School-
ma’am. As to the rest of the household, and visitors
generally, he is kind enough, or rather harmless by
reason of supreme indifference. However, he has an
inextinguishable jealousy of those of his own kind who
may enter upon what he considers his lawful domain.

I was, therefore, not so much surprised as agitated
to hear. issuing from the front porch that peculiar com-
bination of sounds—snarling, snapping, yelping, tear-
ing, scratching, wrestling—which accompanies a dog-
fight. I was engaged at the time in the back yard,
with Penn Townes, a thrifty young farmer and de-
scendant of Jane Townes, the pioneer, who had ridden
over from his neighboring place on some matter of
business. Unfortunately his dog had accompanied him,
a fact which I had not observed until the clamor on the

front porch announced it. I rushed to the scene of
230

THH CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 231

battle, picking up a croquet mallet as Tran. Young
Townes followed, armed with his riding-whip. The
discords of the fight grew fiercer, and then for a moment
ceased at the sound of i woman’s voice, heard above
the din in sharp command.

My heart leaped to my throat. What woman could
be so hardy as to interfere in such a conflict? We
turned the corner of the house, and saw Abby Bradford
standing between the two dogs. She had grasped them
by the leather collars around their necks, and held them |
aloof by main strength. The animals stood at full
height upon their hind-legs, and struck at and struggled
to reach each other with their forepaws and fangs.
They were face to face, with glaring eves and foaming
mouths, while horrible growls issued from between
their white teeth.

It was a splendid sight: the maiden’s erect form,
whose every muscle was swollen by the effort to hold
the fierce beasts at bay, crowned by the pale face, set
with the intensity of emotions, under whose play every
feature was illumined with new beauty. It is strange
how a human face lights up and transforms under the
avitations of a high and courageous deed! I have
never seen a sharper and more significant contrast
between the moral faculties as represented by man, and
the animal passions characteristic of the brutes, than
that exhibited by the tableau which came into view
that morning as we entered the front yard—those ram-
pant and angry dogs struggling in the hands of that

brave, comely young woman !

232 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

This thought was involuntary and instantaneous, It
was as fuliy rounded before my mind in that moment,
while running in full heat, as now, while I quietly
write under the shadow of my tent-studio beneath
green trees. But there was no delay in action ; indeed
there was need of haste, for the large animals, doubly
strengthened by their anger, had well-nigh exhausted
Abby’s strength, and were once more striking each other
with their fangs. She relinquished her hold, and between
whip and mallet the young farmer and I parted the
dogs at last, and Dolf was sent growling to his kennel.
Then we turned to Abby, who, meanwhile, had stood
intermingling with the angry shouts of the men and the
yelps of the dogs, earnest pleas that the poor brutes
should not be injured.

‘‘ Are you hurt ?”’ I asked.

‘“Why, no! That is, I think not. Really, I hadn’t
thought of that. But I am not sure.”’

She lifted her hand ; it was covered with blood from
a cruel wound in the thumb.

“A, I remember now. It was Dolf who bit me:
but he didn’t mean it, poor fellow! He loves me too
well for that. I don’t think I am much hurt.”

‘Not hurt, honey 2”? cried old Dan, who had just
arrived panting and excited. ‘‘Not hurt ?” throwing
up his hands and showing the whites of his eyes ; ‘‘ look
at dat blood den! Drat dat ole dorg! He’d orter be
massacreed, chawin’ on sich a lily han’ as dat! Hol’
on dar a minit ; I'll fix dat bleedin’.”’

He ran to the arbor vite hedge, where numbers of

THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 235

the specked Tubeweaver (Aygalena nevia) yearly spin
their broad snares, and scooped up several of the.
sheeted webs.

‘* Hole up dat han’ now, honey ; cobwebs is famous
for stoppin’ blood. Dis’ll do it shore! Doan you
worry now. Ole Dan’ll make it all right. Dar now,
dat’ll do.”

As he cooed on in this way he applied the web like a
plaster to the torn flesh. His rough surgery was hap-
pily successful in stanching the blood.

By this time the whole family had assembled, Abby
herself being far the least agitated of the group. Such
home remedies as were available were applied to the
wound, and Joe was posted off for the doctor. The
household was unanimous in upbraiding the bold girl
for her act, and just as unanimous in admiration of her
courage.

No one was more enthusiastic in praise than Penn
Townes. ‘‘ It was the pluckiest thing I ever saw,”’ he
averred, ‘‘ whether done by man or woman.’’ He was
sincere in regrets and apologies for his own share in the
misfortune by allowing his dog to follow him, and rode
home evidently much disturbed.

This is how our Schoolma’am and Farmer Townes
became acquainted, and it thus happened that two new
members were introduced to our family conversations.

On the evening of the accident Penn called to inquire
about Miss Abby, who, being quite able to answer for
herself, did so, evidently much to the young man’s
satisfaction. A few days thereafter he cued again, and,

234 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

as the next evening was our time for Weekly Conversa-
tion, he expressed a lively interest in the matter, and
begged permission to attend. Of course we readily con-
sented, although the Mistress somewhat abated my zeal
over the acquisition of a new proselyte to entomolog
by suggesting that, perhaps, the chief object of Penn’s
interest belonged to a higher order of creatures than
insects! But that is a way which our lady friends
have—they seem to think that no subject can have
such attractions to men, particularly young men, as
hemselves! Be that as it may, Penn appeared in our
next circle, and as the invitation had been extended
to all his family, he brought with him his mother.

Mrs. Townes is a plain Friend, adhering closely, but
without rigidity, to the doctrines, manner, dress and
speech of her ancestors. She had already shown a
neighborly interest in us, and with « love of nature and
natural science which is characteristic of the Society to
which she belongs, entered heartily into our conyersa-
tions. Her kindly ways had gained for her among
“world’s people’ throughout all our country side the
familiar title of ‘* Aunt Hannah.’’ We readily dropped
into the usage, as it seemed a happy compromise
between the plain ‘* Wannah”’ of her co-religionists,
which appeared to us lacking in respect, and the formal
‘*Mrs. Townes,’’? which was somewhat distasteful to her.

‘‘ Among the tenants of our old farm,’’ I said, ‘‘ there
are nohe more numerous than the ants. I shall have
something to say about them by-and-by, but to-night

I shall speak about some of their cousins-german who

THE CUTTING-ANT OF THXAS. 239

live in Texas. One summer I visited that State to
make some studies upon a certain ant.”

‘‘ Does thee mean to say,” interrupted Aunt Han-
nah, ‘‘that thee went all that distance, two thousand
‘miles, just to study a single insect ?”

‘Certainly he did,”’ the Mistress answered, ‘‘in the
blazing heat of summer, too. He lived like an Indian,
worked like a negro, spent no one knows how much
money for traveling, outfit, wages, etc., then fell to
work and wrote and published his book at his own ex-
pense, all for the sake of one miserable little ant that
stings like a wasp, and is a nuisance in Texas harvest
fields. You wouldn’t ask such a question, Aunt Han-
nah, if you knew the naturalists better. Why, they
are the veriest race of Paul Prys I ever saw. Talk
about the curiosity of women! I don’t believe there’s
a woman in Christendom that would go through so
much labor, danger and expense just to peek and pry
into the secrets of an ant-hill. But, there! Excuse
mes dear. I fear this is an outbreak of the’ old-
fashioned prejudice. You know I am now only too
happy to see you busy among your bugs.”’

The company had a hearty laugh at the Mistress’s
somewhat vivid portraiture of a naturalist, in which I
joined with zest.

‘*T shall not be offended,’’? I said, ‘Sat such good-
natured truth-telling as that. I assure you that IL
think none the less of myself for that old-time infatua-
tion. Moreover, I cordially agree with the conclusion

of the maiter. Men are more curious than women

236 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

many times over. [ have often said it, and for that
very reason have maintained that the sterner sex will
always be the superior naturalists. But a truce with —
this! We are making no progress with our story.

“I made my camp in a mesquit grove on the plateau
of Barton Creek, a branch of the Colorado, a few miles
beyond Austin, not far from the government trail to
San Antonio. Here I found the insects which I sought in
abundance, and spent several weeks studying them.
But I shall not speak of them now. I found also
another interesting species, the Cutting or Parasol Ant,
whose habits I investigated. They furnish a remark-
able example in one insect of both the cave-dwelling
and engineering habit of which we have been recently
conversing. In the first place we want to make the ac-
quaintance of the ant itself. In this box, which I have
had sent me from my collection in the Academy of
Natural Sciences, are pinned specimens of the various
castes or forms that may be found in one of the Cutting-
Ant nests.

“Ts it possible that these are ants ?”’ cried Abby, as
the box was opened. ‘‘ Why they are larger than a
bumble-bee.”’

‘‘ Yes, these largest forms are the females or young
queens, the next in size are the males. These wingless
fellows with the large heads are the soldiers, and others,
running down through several forms to these tiny
creatures no bigger than our little brown garden ant,
are the workers. This difference in size among the -
individual castes of one species, in one common domi-

THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 237

FIG. 78.—WINGED FEMALE, MALE, SOLDIER AND WORKER-
MAJOR OF CUTTING-ANT (Atta fervens).

cile, is one of the most curious facts in natural his-
tory.”’

‘‘ A word about these winged ants ?’’ asked Abby.
‘‘I- do not quite understand. I have often heard
people speak of a winged ant as though it were a special
kind. But you speak of winged and unwinged forms in
the one nest. Please explain.”’

‘*The males and young females of ants are always
winged. In this respect they resemble their hymen-
opterous allies, the bees and wasps. When they are

238 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM,

matured, they swarm or go forth on their marriage
flight, as it is called, After this, the males all perish
or are devoured by various animals. The young females

tear off their wings and burrow in the ground. They

‘
are then queens, and become mothers and founders
of new colonies.”’ |

eat why do they tear off their wings ?”’ asked Abby.
‘*The queen bumble-bee that we saw the other day had
her wings quite like all the other bees.”’

‘* Yes, the workers of bees and wasps are all winged,
and their mode of life, while gathering food afield as
well as at home, for the most part requires and is accom-
modated to a winged state. It is different with ants,
who are largely scavengers and burrowers, having no
use for wings except during the marriage flight, for
which purpose solely they seem to be provided, The
queen ant doubtless finds the beautiful appendages to
her wardrobe entirely too cumbersome for her workaday
life, and therefore puts herself into plain attire.”’

‘‘There, Aunt Hannah,’’ suggested Abby. ‘* You
“see you can ‘go to the ant’ to find a justification for
your notions about plain dressing.”’

‘‘Thank thee, Abby, for thy good word,”’ said Aunt
Hannah, smiling. ‘*‘ But thee forgets that the queen
bee and all her busy workers, who have quite as good
a name for the virtues of industry and economy, keep
their gay apparel. Friends are not so severe in their
views of dress as they used to be, and perhaps there is
less need of their testimony. At all events, to return

to thy analogy, if it seems becoming to the queen ant to

SL

ee Se

THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 239

hy , Oe
: ea
LOLS,
14
FIG. 79.—MOUND NEST OF CUTTING-ANT.

cast off her gaudy ornaments, we
will not say that the queen bee
who adheres to her wings is without
natural, becoming and industrious ways. My plain
bonnet suits me very well, Abby, but perhaps it might
not be so becoming to thy beauty. Though, I think
thee would make a very pretty Quakeress, too!’ she
added, with a pleasant smile, and kindly glanced at the
blushing Schoolma’am.

We cordially enjoyed this good-hyumored sally, and

240 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM,

with a word of commendation for Aunt Hannah’s
generous opinions, 1 resumed my narrative. |

‘‘'There were several large colonies of cutting-ants at
points sufficiently near camp for purposes of study,
The surface architecture presented two typical forms.
One of these was that of a mound twenty-one feet long
and about four feet high, which had been accumulated
around a large double-trunk live-oak tree (Quercus
virens), Which stood on the side of a road. (Fig. 79.)
The second form was located on a high, flat, up-
land prairie, and was a bed of denuded earth, about
nine by seven feet in dimensions. It was placed in
the midst of the grassy open, but not far from a young
grove of forest trees.

‘‘ Over the denuded surface were scattered between
twenty and thirty circular, semi-circular, and S-shaped
elevations of fresh earth-pellets. The circular mound-
lets had the appearance of a cuspidore, the resemblance
being stronger by reason of a round, open entrance or
gallery-door in the center. All had been naturally
formed by the gradual accumulation of the pellets or
sandy soil, as they were brought out by the workers
and dumped upon the circumference of the heap. The
moundiets were from three to four inches high, massed
at the base, and gradually sloped off toward the top.
I found several of these ‘ beds,’ as the Texans call them,
and this is doubtless the normal form of the external
architecture of the formicary. The live-oak mound
was probably formed by accumulations around the tree,

causea by the bordering road which restricted the limits

THE CULTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 241

of the gates, and so threw separate

moundlets back upon each other.
“ My first view of the mound led

me to fear that I had made a seri.

ous mistake and pitched mycamp ~~

near an abandoned nest. There

was not a sign of life. The mound

was covered aver with earthen

knobs or warts of various sizes, but

FIG.. 80.—PROCESSION OF PARASOL OR CUTTING-ANTS.

the action of a recent shower upon the black soil gave
the hill the appearance of an old one. Here and there
‘were scattered over the surface small. irregular heaps
of dry leaves, bits of leaves and twigs. Otherwise the
mound seemed lifeless, deserted.

‘“My next visit was in the evening. After supper I

‘TOSOHO NOSNICON LHINWH NVY—LNYV JOSVUVd AHL—'[g “914

242

THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 248

left one of my men to guard camp and build a camp-
fire, and took another with me carrying a lantern, to
the live-oak nest. An amazing change had occurred ;
instead of silence and seeming desolation a scene of
thronging life and stirring activity was presented.
Hosts of ants of various sizes, and in countless numbers,
were hurrying out of open gates into the neighboring
jungle, and two long double columns-were stretched
from bottom to top of the overhanging live-oak 5 one.
column ascended, the other descended the tree. The
ants in the descending column all carried above their
heads portions of green leaves, which waved to and fro
and glanced in the lantern light, giving to the moving
host a weird look as it moved along. It seemed like a
procession of Lilliputian Sabbath-school children bear-
ing aloft their banners. It is this habit which has
given the insect in some quarters the popular name of
the ‘“* Parasol Ant.”’

** But what could the creatures want with parasols ?”
asked Abby. ‘‘ There was neither sunshine nor rain to
protect themselves from ?”

‘** We shall see the use of these leaf-cuttings presently.
The name parasol is of course based upon a popular
fancy, as these ants when seen abroad are usually ac-
companied—like that friend of our boyhood, Robinson
Crusoe—with their odd-looking umbrella-like append-
ages,’’ (Fig. 81.)

**Do they hold them in their hands ?’”? asked Aunt
Hannah.

‘* No, in their jaws or mandibles; an odd place to

244 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

carry a parasol, perhaps, but they manage it well. I
will show you how this is done when I have explained
the leaf-cutting habit. I observed very fully at the nests
around my camp and in vegetable gardens near Austin
the mode of cutting and carrying leaves. In order

better to see the process I

thrust leafy branches of

CE live-oak into the mound
oe near the cates; .ihey
AER &
SSS were soon covered with

f ants, and as the lantern
4 Ch Rr

A could thus be used con-

°c veniently, the operations

of the cutters were com-

pletely in view. The cut-

ting is done in this way.

j

The cutter grasps the
leaf with outspread feet

and makes an incision at

FIG. 82.—DEFOLIATED TWIG
_ OF PRIDE-OF-CHINA-TREE.

the edge by a scissors-like motion of her sickle-shaped,
toothed mandibles. She gradually revolves, steadily
cutting as she does so, her mandibles thus describing a
circle, or the greater portion thereof. The feet turn
with the head. The cut’ is a clean one quite through
the leaf.”’

‘* How large a piece do the insects cut out ?”? Aunt
Hannah asked.

‘* The cutting is about the size of a ten-cent piece or
sixpence, and is usually roundish in shape, though often
irregular. The cutter would sometimes drop with the

THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS.

243

FIG. 83.—ANT MAKING A CUTTING FROM A LIVE-OAK LEAF.

excision to the the ground, sometimes retire when the

section had dropped, and sometimes seize the section
and carry it down the tree or branch.”’

‘‘T was greatly interested to notice here an apparent
division of labor. At the foot of one tree was a pile of
cut leaves, to which clippings were being continually
added by droppings from above. Carriers on the

Sn a Oe ite ew
wr a uv

FIG. 84.—HEAD OF A CUTTING-ANT, ENLARGED EIGHT TIMES,

246 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

sround took these up and bore them to the nest. The.
loading of the sections was accomplished in this wise :
the piece was seized with the curved mandibles, the
head elevated and the piece thrown back with a quick
motion. Let me draw for you the head: of an ant and
you will see. how this is done. A deep furrow runs
along the entire medial line, except the part at the very
end of the face ealted the clypeus. At the edge of
this furrow, on either side, and on the prothorax pro-
jecting over the neck are prominent spines, which you
will notice if you look again at the specimens. (Fig. 84.)

‘*T have a cousin who once lived in Texas,’’ remarked
Penn, ‘‘ and he has told me that things down there have
a wonderful tendency to be jagged and thorny. How
is that ?”

‘Certainly it is so with many plants and animals.
Both species of ants studied by me, the cutting (Atta
fervens) and agricultural (Pogonomyrmex barbatus) are
marked with strong spines. Then there are spinous
spiders, though we have somé of them on our old farm
too ; horned toads hopping everywhere, horned lizards
running swiftly over the ground, prickly cactus plants
grown into great bushes, thorn trees of many sorts, the
soap plant, the splendid Spanish bayonet, certainly well |
named, and, not to be tedious, the famous wide-horned
Texas cattle herding in thousands on the plains. :

‘‘ The spines upon our cutting ant together with the
furrow seem to serve a very good purpose. The
worker seizes the leaf-section and by a quick motion
lodges it on edge within the furrow and between the

THE CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 247

spines. This is done, at ieast, in some cases. The
cutting and carrying were not done, so far as I saw, by-
the smallest castes. The soldiers also rarely engaged in
this work but were seen to precede the excursion columns
as they moved out and up the tree, and afterward to
return as though engaged as scouts or pioneers. They
are grotesque-looking creatures as they move along
with a rolling gait, shaking their big heads and waving
their antenne. ;

Here Dan joined in the conversation.

‘*Mars Mayfiel’, I doan see how you could abar to
mix up wid dem ants in dat away. I wouldn’t do it
for no money. Dey’s entirely too wise for sech brute
critters. Tain’t naterl wisdom nohow. How yo’ s’pose
dey do all dem tings jes by ’msels? Doan tell me!
My ole mammy done tell me often: ‘ Nebber ’stroy de
ants, honey. Dey’z all fairies ; eb’ry one of ’em fairies;
n ef yo’ interfar wid’ em dey ’1l ’witch our cows so dat
dey’ll give no milk.’ Dis’s a great dairy county, Mars
Mayfiel’, “n I tell yo’ dar’s powerful need of bein’ cau-
tious ’bout. meddlin’ too much wid tings wat’s got
sech onnaterl ways. ’Scuse me, sah, but dat’s my
*pinion.”’

‘“ All right, Dan,” I responded ; “‘ this is ‘ Liberty
Hall’ on our Conversation nights, and we want every
one to feel free to speak upon the subject before us.
- Besides, I have now said all that I intend to-night, and
will gladly hear others.”

** Daniel,” said Aunt Hannah, “doesn’t thee know
that that is superstition ? No such power as thee

248 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM. ,

spoke of is given to any creature. The insects have
natural power to harm us, and they do it pretty freely,
some of them, but they have nothing more, and thee is
too old to believe and utter such unwise things. Where
did thee learn such things ?” |
“Tam afraid, Aunt Hannah,”’ said I, answering for
Dan, ‘‘ that our friend is too old to rid himself of these
notions, and I have already put our young people on
their guard. I don’t wonder, however, that Dan has
picked up that superstition about ants bewitching cows,
for he is from Maryland, you know, and such an opinion
does certainly prevail in the neighborhood of Washing-
ton, and throughout Virginia.”

_ This little episode concerning the occult powers of
nature brought Sarah to the front, as such subjects
were pretty sure to do. Standing in the kitchen door
with hands under her apron, she attacked Aunt
Hannah’s position with much emphasis. ‘‘ Super-
stition! There it goes ag’in! Folks is got so awful
larned .nowadays, that they’re not content onless
they’re upsottin’ some belief ’r other that common folks
hold, an’ their feythers afore ’em. Now, for my part,
I believe ’n witches. More ’n that, I believe that not
only dumb critters but human bein’s, too, are bewitched
—lots of ’em! That’s not to say, however, that Dan’s
right about them ants. I don’t believe ther’s any
harm in ’em at all. Dan got the cart afore the horse,
as he ginrely does. I believe there’s good luck in ants,
They’re most industrious critters, trig and tidy as a
posey. An’ w’at’s more, Scripter commends ’em, and

ll
i
i

fi
/
/

I

I
Ih

AN Th ||

FIG. 85.—ANTS BEWITCHING THE COows.—p. 247
249

250 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

sots *em up as an example for usn’s—barrin’ always
them pesky little red house-ants w’ich I don’t believe
Scripter ever meant to include. Doesn’t the Bible say
‘Go to the ant, thou sluggard—consider her ways and
be wise’? Now you don’t think the Bible’d speak
that-a-way ’v witches, do you,-Dan? Of course not.

‘*T always heerd there ’z good luck in ants. My
granmam told me—she was an Englishwoman—that it
was writ in the Royal Dream Book that to dream of
ants or bees showed that you’d live in a great town or
city, or in a large family, and that you will be indus-
trious, happy, well married, and have a Jarge family.”’

‘* Well, Sary Ann,’’ answered Dan, rising from the
cricket and placing himself in a safe position by the
back kitchen door, ‘‘ole Dan, mebbe, doan’ git t’ings
allus perpendickler ; but I reckon he’d git it ’bout right
this time ef he’d ’low that you didn’t never dream uv
ants !’? With this retort he disappeared, wafting back
to the disconcerted cook—whose matrimonial venture
had been notoriously unfortunate—a triumphant and
ageravating ‘‘ He, he! ho!”

‘* Thee must excuse Daniel,’’ said Aunt Hannah, who
felt bound to apologize for the old man’s familiar ways.
‘“*Thee knows he has been employed in the family for
half a century and more, and like most old servants, he
is disposed to take many liberties. Indeed, he feels a
sort of proprietorship in the old place.”

‘Don’t trouble yourself, Aunt Hannah,’’ responded
the Mistress. ‘Mr. Mayfield is anxious to call out all
the curious notions and superstitions which prevail about

4

THH CUTTING-ANT OF TEXAS. 201

insects amor g all classes of persons, and-he has encour-
aged all our people to talk freely. They are not likely
to step much beyond the bounds of propriety, and I
don’t care to restrain them.”

‘Very well; thee will find Daniel a ood, faithful
fellow, but much tainted with curious African supersti-
tions, and sometimes over-free with his opinions.
Good-night, and many thanks for this pleasant evening
and thy kind invitation to return. Come, Penn, if thee
has finished explaining that ant-hill to friend Abby,

we will go.’

CHAPTER XIV.
A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL.

‘‘ WHAT do the cutting-ants do with the leaves
which they carry into their holes ?”? The evening’s
conversation began with this question.

‘**T was very anxious to answer that inquiry, you may
be sure, and there was only one way to do so—I must
dig up the nest. My three assistants were armed with
pick and shovel; I was provided with trowel, knife,
pocket-rule, and my little satchel, filled with boxes,
bottles, and various odds and ends for collecting speci-
mens and other work. Camp-stool and drawing
materials stood at the road-side. We knew that the
insects would swarm upon us in innumerable legions
when we assaulted their home, and that their sharp
pincers would be formidable weapons. We therefore,
like ancient knights, girt ourselves with armor for the
conflict.

** Handkerchiefs and scarfs were bound around
face and ears under our hats; bandages swathed our
necks tightly ;) trousers were thrust into boot-tops,
and these tightened to the legs; hands were gloved
and wrists bandaged ; indeed, every opening through
the clothing by which the angry ants might find way
to the body was protected by wrappings. Thus ar-

rayed, I led my little army to the assault.
2523

PS ee

_— eee

A TOUR THROUGH A THXAS ANT-HILL, 253

Two men were detailed for the digging, one to the
work of brushing off the ants with leafy branches and
wisps of grass. Two trenches were made; one ten

feet long and five feet deep, and a second at right

angles to it, and wide enough to allow free entrance for
purposes of study. We were not disappointed in our
calculation as to the reception which the ants would
give us. The swift use of the spade and the general
convulsion of their emmet world did, indeed; daze them
for a little while ; but they were not long in rallying.
Hundreds—thousands—hundreds of thousands poured
out of the excavations. I never saw anything like it.
I was amazed at the extraordinary number of creatures
inhabiting that one hill. The knight of the whisk was
overwhelmed with the duty of keeping the assailing
legions from his comrades of the spade. I came to his
help. We were both driven to our utmost. The dig
gers were literally covered with ants; and when the
insects had mounted as far as their necks, they were
compelled to leap from the trench, and join their own
labors with ours in freeing them from the attacking
hordes. ”’

**It does seem too bad,’’ exclaimed Aunt Hannah,
‘‘that thee should have felt bound so to destroy the
poor creatures! Didn’t thy conscience hurt thee some
for such wholesale spoliation and killing ?”’

‘‘ Not in the least—certainly in the case of cutting-
ants, who are fearful pests to the farmers, as we shall
see by-and-by. Do you feel any scruples at your huss
band’s slaughter of the potato-beetles ?”’

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TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL, 255

‘* Joseph doesn’t have any, at all events,’’ said Aunt
Hannah, smiling. , Es cee te

“Besides that,’? I continued, ‘‘the naturalist, as a
priest in the temple of nature, must have some power
over the life of the lower creatures. I didn’t kill any
more ants than were actually necessary for study. If
we hadn’t killed them they would have driven us from
the field; for I assure you, Aunt Hannah, they don’t
practice your gentle Quaker principles of non-resist-
ance. But to go back to my story.

‘By dint of perseverance we finished our trenches,
and had beautifully exposed the interior of the formi-
cary. We were not long in reaching the caves in which
the ants dwell. Then came my turn to enter the
- trench, for the rude strokes of spade and pick could not
be trusted to the delicate work of making out the
forms and proportions of the rooms and roadways of
the formicary. It is no easy task to trace these
through the inside of a crumbling ant-hill, and it re-
quired careful work. Down into the trench, therefore,
I must go, and as I had to work slowly and at close
quarters, picking away piece by piece, measuring, tak-
ing notes, gathering specimens, I was far more exposed
than my assistants. Indeed, it required the united
efforts of all three to keep the ants away from my face.
As for the rest of my body I bade them let that go,
although occasionally a soldier ant would thrust his
sharp sickles even through my clothing, and force me
to give him attention. However, our punishment by
these insects was mild as compared with that of the

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FIG. 87,— VIEW OF TRENCH EXPOSING THE INTERIOR OF CUTTING ANT Hille.

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 25%

agricultural ants, who have stings as sharp and viru-
lent as hornets.

‘‘The interior of the formicary may be briefly de-
scribed as an irregular arrangement of caverns com-
municating with the surface and with each other by
tubular galleries. These caverns or pockets were of
various sizes, three feet long and less, and twelve inches
-deep by eight inches high, and less. Now we come to
the question of how the ants dispose of the-leaves which
they collect.

** Within these caverns were masses ofa light, delicate
Jeaf-paper wrought into what may properly be called
‘combs.’ Some of the masses were in a single hemi-
sphere, filling the central parts of the cave; others
were arranged in columnar masses two and one-half
inches high, placed in contact along the floor. Some
of these columns hung-like a rude honey-comb or wasp’s
nest from roots that interlaced the chamber. The
material was in some cases of a gray tint, in others of
a lead-brown color and was all evidently composed of
the fibre of leaves.’ (Fig. 88.)

‘* You speak of this material as leaf-paper,’. said
Abby. ‘‘Do you mean that the leaves were fastened
together like pieces of paper, or that they were ground
up and made into a true paper ?”

‘‘'The fibre of the leaves had actually been reduced
_ to pulp, and spread out into a papery mass, which had
dried into the shapes described.”’

‘** But how could this have been done ?”’

** Undoubtedly by the joint action of the mandibles

7

SAVE OF THE CUTTING-ANT, SHOWING THE LFAF-COMBS.

FIG. 88.—

258

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL, 259

and salivary glands. The former organs are powerful]
instruments that readily grind up the leaves, which are
kept moist and pliable by the latter organs. This is, in
tact, a rude process of paper-making, and it is not sur-
prising to find the habit in the ants, since it exists in
ereat perfection among their close relations, the wasps.

‘On examination, the pulpy masses proved to be
composed of cells of various sizes, irregular in shape,
but maintaining pretty constantly the hexagon. Some
of the cells were half an inch in diameter, many one-—
fourth inch, most of them one-eighth inch, and quite
minute. Some were one inch deep, and usually nar-
rowed into a funnel-like cylinder. Large circular open-
ings penetrated the heart of the columns. Ants in
great number, chiefly of the small castes, were found
within the cells; in the first large cave opened were
also great quantities of larvee.”’

— “Does thee know what these leaf-combs are used
for ?’? asked Aunt Hannah.

‘*T believe that they are the living-rooms of the ants.
particularly of the grubs and younglings. The eggs, I
think, are deposited within the cells, and are there
hatched. The paper is so fragile that it breaks under
the most delicate handling, but the ants ran over it
with impunity. However, Mr. Belt has started the
curious theory that the leaf-paper masses are a sort
of mushroom garden, wherein a minute fungus is pur-
posely cultivated by the ants for food. That, if true,
would certainly show a rare degree of intelligence.
though by no means beyond the emmet capacity. I

260 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

submitted some of my. specimens to the microscope,
aud they did show fungus growths, but that is only
what might be expected in such dark, underground en-
vironment. I believe that the chief food of the ants is
the juice of the leaves which they gather, although they
are not confined to that diet. I saw one immense
column, for example, engaged in plundering a granary
of wheat, which was being carried away, grain by grain.
to the nest.” .

*‘ Have they any preference among the trees which
they defoliate ?”’ asked Abby.

‘“ Yes; a decided preference. The principal leaves
gathered at my camp were those of the live-oak. The
great tree above the mound was, in some parts, stripped
to the very top. The young saplings in the neighbor-
hood were in great part or wholly stripped. Some wild
vine unknown to me was an especial favorite, but some
plants stood in the little thicket around quite untouched.
I thought it curious, by-the-way, that the workers
showed.a preference for beginning their operations at
the topmost or outmost twigs of the branches. <A
china-tree which I observed showed one side nearly
stripped of leaves, while the other side was untouched.
(Fig. 89.) 3

‘‘T visited the grounds of an intelligent nurseryman
near Austin, and learned from him many interesting
facts. The ants prefer trees with a smooth leaf, are
severe upon grapes, peaches, china-tree, radishes ; take
celery, beets, young corn and wheat, plum, pomegran-

ate, honeysuckle, cape jessamine, cape myrtle, althea.

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 261

‘FIG. 89.—PRIDE-OF-CHINA TREE STRIPPED OF LEAVES ON
ONE SIDE BY CUTTING-ANT.

On the other hand, they do not like lettuce, won’t take
the paper mulberry, nor figs and cedar, except the bud
_ends in the scant days of winter. They love sugar,
grain and—tobacco !”’ :
** Tobacco !’’ exclaimed Aunt Hannah ; ‘‘can such
an unnatural taste exist in a pure state of nature ?”
“Oh, for that matter,’ remarked Abby, “I think

262 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

it far more fitting material for an ant’s jaws than a
man’s !”’

‘* They certainly seem to find a use for it,’’ I resumed,
‘-for the nursery man assured me that the ants made

foraging excursions even. into his house, entered his:

desk-drawers, and carried away a portion of his chew-
ing tobacco before the robbery was discovered. He had
to be very careful thereafter where he deposited the de-
lectable weed.”’

‘‘ Truly,’’ cried Abby, ‘‘ wonders never cease to be
explained. It has always been a mystery to me how the
tobacco-chewing habit could have originated among
men. But here we have it! It comes down by long
descent from some far away emmet ancestor of ours !””

‘“Tut, tut, Abby,’ interposed Aunt Hannah.
‘‘ What does thee mean by such nonsense ?”’

‘‘ Nonsense! Why should you call it that?’ re-
torted Abby, while. her eyes twinkled merrily. “It
was only a few days ago that I read, floating through
our daily papers, a saying of one of Mr. Mayfield’s dis-
tinguished ant-loving friends to the effect that if one
were to judge from intelligence and general affinity of
social habit and organization alone, man might more
readily be derived from an ant than from an ape. So,
there! My remark has the wisdom of the evolutionists
behind it, and a specialist’s justification besides. ”’

‘* We cannot stop to settle the wisdom of Abby’s re-
mark,’’ I observed, ‘‘ or even whether she is in jest or
earnest. But I will cordially endorse Sir John Lub-
bock’s remark, with a good deal of emphasis, however,

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 263

on the 7. I was frequently surprised at the ability of
these cutting-ant masons to excavate vast halls and
subterranean avenues. I visited several holes in the
vicinity ef Austin, out of which ‘ beds’ or nests of ants
had been dug by an old man who used to follow the
business of an ant-exterminator. These holes were
nearly as large as the cellar of a small house. One
such excavation, about three miles from the city, was
twelve feet in diameter and fifteen feet deep. At the
lowest point the main cave or chamber had been found
which, I was told, was as large asa flour barrel. In
this central cavern were many winged insects, males
and females, and quantities of larve. It was the head-
quarters of the formicary, whence, in various direc-
tions, radiated avenues through which the workers
issued upon their numerous raids.

‘*T was struck by the engineering skill displayed in
laying out these avenues. Take this example. The
nest of which I speak was situated 669 feet from a tree
that stood in the front yard of a gentleman’s house.
The tree had been stripped bare of leaves by the cutting-
ants! Assisted by a young civil engineer, I took the
range of the underground way traversed to reach this
point, and from the survey, an accurate route was con-
structed by a friend in the office of the Pennsylvania
Railroad. This is a copy of it (see page 264.) You
see that the course varies little from a direct line.
There were no turnings or twistings, but the tunnel ran
from point to point straight as an arrow flies. In this
respect the map is true to the facts.” (Fig. 90.)

264

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i)
4
a

LTENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

: ee

FIG. 90.—AN UNDERGROUND ROUTE OF CUTTING-ANTS.

‘“'That is an important explana-
tion,’? Abby remarked, ‘‘ for I have
learned to take all maps that issue ~
from railroad offices with great
allowance for a scientific use of
the imagination. It is surprising
to see how straight their lines run
between main points on the maps,
and how many curves, sweeps and
deflections there are when you come
to ride on their trains !”?

As Abby’s sally evidently touched
a common experience it was greeted
with hearty merriment. “I can
vouch for the accuracy of this chart,
at all events,’ I said. ‘‘And this
is all the more remarkable when you
remember that the lines were run
underground, In some places the
tunnel was as deep as six feet be-
neath the surface, the average depth
being about eighteen inches. At
the ‘Exit Hole,’ 484 feet from the
nest, the tunnel was two feet deep.
I am not prepared to say upon
what principles these lines were laid
out by the ants, but I venture the
opinion that they show as good evi-
dence of thorough engineering in
going directly to their points of des-

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 265

tination, as do the famous underground railways of Lon-
don. Besides this main way which I have described, there —
were two branch tunnels which deflected from the
trunk-line near the country road, in order to gain en-
trance to a peach orchard one hundred and twenty feet
distant.”? —

‘*How did you trace these tunnels ?’’? asked Penn.
**It must have been an immense work to dig after
them.”’

‘*The work had been done by the planter, who, de-
termined to exterminate the nest, had traced it up with
the help of laborers. Much of the way was actually
dug out, and the trench was visible when I visited the
place. ‘As to the rest, it was only necessary to sink
holes here and there along the estimated course, and
when the tunnel was struck, take another bearing.
The nest was finally reached, and the great pit was
there to show how extensive the colony had been.

‘** In view of such observations as these, I am quite
prepared to believe the story related by Dr. Lincecum,
who long observed the habits of the cutting-ants in
Texas, that they on one occasion dunneled beneath a
stream in order to reach a garden that lay on the
opposite side. There is one other remarkable habit
which I observed before the mound nest near my
camp had been destroyed. It relates to the opening
and shutting of the gates which communicate with the
interior. .I soon found that doors were opened and
tlosed before and after every exit from the nest. The
process is a long, careful, and complica Ce ener

266 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘‘ What did the gates look like ?”’ asked Harry.

‘They are simply little heaps of dry leaves, twigs,
and such like refuse, which are seen scattered here and
there over the mound as one approaches it in day-time.
(Fig. 91.) When I first saw them, as I have told you,

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FIG. 91.—THE GATE CLOSED.

I was completely deceived, and thought them nothing
more than accidental accumulations. I found out,
however, that these piles were raised above the surface
opening of the galleries that penetrated the mound,
and that they filled the mouths to the depth sometimes
of an inch and a half. The leaves and chips were in-
termingled with pellets of soil, and occasionally below
them the gallery was quite sealed with pellets. The
galleries frequently slant inward from the gate, and at
as great an angle as forty-five degrees. Sometimes
they deflect a short distance from the top. These con-
formations allow more readily the process of closing, as
they give a purchase to the material used.

‘*’'The doors are opened about dusk. First appear the

|
|

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL, 26%

minims, the very small forms, creeping out of minute
holes, which they have doubtless made by working
inside, and deporting from the heap grains of sand.
Presently larger forms follow, carrying away bits of
refuse, which they drop a couple of inches more or less
from the gate. This is a slow process, and apparently
nothing is accomplished for a long time. But evidently
the whole mass of plugging is thus gradually loosened.
Then comes the final burst, with soldiers, majors and
minors in the lead, who rush out, bearing up before
them the rubbish, which flies here and there, and in a
few moments is cleared away from the gallery and
spread around the margin of the gate. (Fig 92.) These

FIG. 92.—THE GATE OPEN.

chips are doubtless gathered together for this purpose,
and are among the treasured properties of the ants

being kept near by for such service. I easily identified

—

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»

A TOUR THROUGH A THXAS ANT-HILL. 269

many pieces as being thus used several days in succes-
- sion. .

‘The doors remain open to give exit and entrance to
the swarms of leaf-gatherers until morning when they
are gradually closed, the process continuing in some
cases until 10:30 A.M. In shutting up the house the
minors appear to begin by dragging the scattered refuse
toward the hole. One by one they are taken in, and the
ingenuity shown in this is very great. My field note-
book is full of sketches showing the progress, step by
step, of gate-closing, and the admirable manner in
which the workers proceed by properly adjusting the
longest stalks and leaves that can stretch across and
wedge into the mouth of the gallery, and then laying
the shorter one atop of these. (Fig. 93.)

‘** But I cannot dwell upon these details. As the hole
gradually fills up, the smaller castes of workers ap-
pear upon the fieid and take up the work to which their
slighter frames are adapted. The last touches are care-
fully and delicately made by the minims who, in small
squads, fill in the remaining interstices with minute
grains of sand; and finally the last laborer steals in
behind some bit of leaf, and the gate is closed. It then
presents to the casual observer the appearance which I
have described, and which is shown in the cut, of a
~ small heap of dry chips accidentally accumulated upon
the ground.”’

I was delighted to note the interest with which my
friends followed this description, and how eagerly they
hung upon my words. Several drew a deep breath and

220 A... TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

ubtered various exclamations as I concluded, and when
I called attention to a figure which I had drawn, show- -
ing a gate when closed, and the same when opened,
even Sarah left her recess in the shadow of the kitchen
door to look at it. .

** An’ what do they go thro’ all thet. bother for ?”’ at
length she asked. I hesitated a moment, but observing
that the question voiced the wish of others, was about
to speak, when Dan took up the answer for me.

‘*Bress yo’ heart; honey,’’ he said. °* What d@ yo’
shet yo’ doahs fer? Ef eber dar wur a ’tickler body on
dat subject uv shettin’ doahs, it’s yo’, Sairy Ann.
An’ I’s done said, many en’ many’s the time, dat de
’mount uv bother ’t yo’d make ’bout dem ole doahs
uv yo’s, is onreasonable out uv all perportion.”’

‘*Onreasonable !’’ cried Sarah, quite thrown off her
guard. ‘‘That’s the way with you men—allus the
way. Do ye call ’t onreasonable to keep flies out of
the kitchen w’en ther wuss ’n the plagues uv Egypt ;
an’ to keep draughts off ’n the bread dough, an’—but
w’ats the use ’n talkin’ ?’’ She had retreated to her
kitchen door by this time, and turned to hurl at her
venerable tormentor a question which she was wont to
shout at him many times a day. ‘Id jist like to
know w’at doors ’er made fer, ef not to shet ?”

‘‘ Ho, ho,’? laughed Dan, clasping himself in his
arms, and rolling his body in his usual way when
ereatly amused ; ‘Sho, ho! Dat’s zactly wat de ants tink
about it, Sary Ann! W’y didn’t yo’ start out wid dat

quest’n, an’ den yo’ needn’t ’v axed nuffin’ ’tall.”’

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 271

When the amusement which this little episode pro-
duced had subsided, I resumed :

“At first I contented myself with looking for these
gates in the near vicinity of the central mound or bed,
but I soon found that there were many more openings.
Indeed, one scarcely knew where he might stumble
upon a group of the little miners crowding in busy
eroups out of holes in the grass, carrying pellets of
earth, the product of their underground excavations.
I never saw any but the smaller forms or minims en-
gaged in this service of digging. They were night
workers, and at times, as I moved over the ground
thirty or forty feet from the central live-oak mound, I
would see shining in the lantern-light among the grass
a white ‘dumping’ which showed where a bevy of
‘masons were at work. They had tapped the white
.adobe clay that lies several feet underneath the upper
soil, and the nature of the pellets which they were cart-
ing out showed that they were cutting rooms and gal-
leries in that stratum. The accumulation outside the
opening presented quite the appearance of a mimic
railroad dumping, with a gang of laborers at work ; the
minims issued from the cavernous shadows trembling
under the weight of the white pellets borne before and
above their heads, crossed the heap until the edge was
reached, and then ‘dumped’ their load. It was quite
a comical sight to see some of them at this point.
They raised themselves upon their hind legs, thrust
their heads over the edge, and with a saucy jerk flung

ry

down the bit of clay. Others would prt a fore-paw te

(

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Se eee!

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SEONG

94.—AN EMMET ‘ DUMPING ’”7—A MASON SQUAD AT WORI

FIG

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A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 273

either side of the face, and striking forward with the
legs, accelerate the movement of the pellet. Others,-
again, contented themselves with simply thrusting the
head beyond the margin of the dump and dropping
their load from the jaws. Here is a sketch of one of
these mason groups engaged on a dumping.”’ (Fig. 94.)

** Certainly these little fellows have amazingly inter-
esting parts,’? remarked Penn Townes; ‘‘ but. they
must be a great plague to the horticulturist. Is noth-
ing done to destroy the creatures ?”’

‘**Oh, yes, there are various ways for their destruc-
tion; indeed the formidable nature of the insects’
depredations has developed a class of men whose
special business is to exterminate them. I heard of
one at Austin, who had long followed the business of
digging out nests, and was known as the ‘ Old Ant
Man.’ I saw some of his work—great holes, the size
of a small cellar, from which vast formicaries had been
literally dug out. I heard of another person who,
being of an inventive turn, had devised a machine
which dispenses with the laborious method of the old
Austin ant man. Iwas fortunate enough to get one
of his circulars, and here it is, with the wood-cut to,
illustrate the mode of operation. - The cut, to be sure,
is of a most primitive type, and looks as though it
also might have been manufactured by the inventor of
the machine. But it is very interesting, if not artistic,
for it gives us some insight of an ant-bed, as seen by
an experienced practical observer. Of course he has
only made a rough diagram of a nest-interior, but you

274 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

see that it shows a network of galleries, uniting caves of
various sizes, just as I have described it. (Fig. 95.)
** The ‘Insect Destroyer ’ works about in this wise :

YY SN 7;
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XX

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WANS

Fic. 95.—AaA PATENT ANT EXTERMINATOR.—FROM THE
INVENTOR’S CIRCULAR.

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Saw

alternate layers of ignited charcoal and sulphur or
similar materials are laid in a hollow dug around one of
the gates, and surrounded by a ‘smoke chamber.’ In
one case a bellows, in another an air-pump, is attached
to this chamber, and as the combustibles are blown
into a flame, the gas thus generated is also forced down
the galleries into the rooms, and of course suffocates
the ants. The inventor, as you see, here advertises
‘the largest bed of Cutting Ants completely destroyed -
in twenty to forty minutes.’ ”’
‘¢ Dear me !”’ exclaimed Abby, ‘‘ that is surely a fell

A TOUR THROUGH A TEXAS ANT-HILL. 275

destroyer! He must have got this hint of exter-
minating emmet. cities by raining fire and brimstone
upon them, from the story of Sodom and Gomorrah !
But see! here is a confirmation of your account of the
location of gates at distant points ; our Texas artist has
put little puffs of smoke curling up from holes way out
herein the field:”’

‘Does the machine work satisfactory 2?” asked Hugh.

‘* Really, I cannot tell you, though I tried to ascer-
tain that fact. But, if you have a mind to experi-
ment, note the advertisement: ‘ Price, for Farm-Right
and Machine, all Complete, $20.’ ”’

‘** Ther’s nothin’ to expurmint on,’’ answered Hugh,
laughing, ‘* aroun’ this ole farm, ’cept mole runs and
a few rat holes aroun’ the barn; an’ I reckon it ud
hardly pay to import a colony uv cuttin’ ants jest to
expurmint on then.”

‘Tam sure that I wouldn’t begrudge the money,’’
said Aunt Hannah, ‘‘if the inventor would guarantee
that his machine can smoke out our red house-ants.”’

_‘* Red ants, Aunt Hannah!’ exclaimed the Mistress.
‘“You surprise me! I thought there wasn’t enough
encouragement in the way of stray crumbs of any sort
around your house to justify even a red ant in venturing
upon the premises.”

**Catherine Mayfield,’? responded Aunt Hannah,
with a little show of warmth, ‘‘ thee must know that
the matter of dirt has nothing to do with the presence
of ants. They are tidy creatures enough and know
how to pick-up a living in the tidiest housekeeper’s cup:

!

276 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

boards. There are some insects, I grant thee, whose
presence is a proof of uncleanliness, but it is no discredit
to any houseekeeper to have red ants at times.”’

‘¢ An’ that’s the mortal truth, Aunt Hanner,’’ re-
marked Sarah, who had been, again allured from the
kitchen shadows by the nature of the conversation.
‘‘ I’ve tried no end uv scourin’ an’ scrubbin’; an’ after
I’d hed my closets all swep’ an’ garnished, and pol-
ished to boot, along ud come them pesky mites uv
critters, like the cast out devils in the Scripter, an’ ud
enter in bringin’ ther neighbors with ’em, an’ make
things wuss *n ever. For my part I don’t see w’at sich
anymiles wuz made fer, nohow !’’ Having thus deliverca
her mind and started a problem that has puzzled wiser
heads, she returned to her seat at the kitchen stove.

CHAPTER XV.
THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

THE subject of two of our most interesting Conver-
sations—the Music of Insects—was introduced by a
casual discussion between Sarah, Hugh and Dan. The
autumn air, ever since our advent to the old farm, had
been full of the shrilling of crickets, and the noisy
vocalization of katy-dids. As the Fall advanced the
notes grew fewer and fainter. Silence fell upon the air
after the light, early frosts, which was broken once
more when the returning warmth of October’s mellow
suns allured the insects from their refuge in holes, under
stones and in crevices of trees. The call of the katy-did
at last ceased ; the crickets creaked on through the
dreamy haze of Indian summer, then fell into silence
over all the fields, leaving only here and there a for-
tunate adventurer to push his way into human habita-
tions, and from the shelter of friendly wali-crannies or
the warmth of a log-fire figure with his monotonous
chirrup as the ‘‘Cricket on the Hearth.’’ (Fig. 96.)

One evening Hugh and Dan were sitting on the bench
beside the back-kitchen door, smoking their pipes and
exchanging views upon the merits and demerits of in-
sects of various sorts. One of the pleasant results of

our Conversations has been to supply our regular and
277

278 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARWM.

occasional workmen with a theme for intelligent discus-
sion. We have been surprised—as they themselves have
been—to see how much they have been stimulated to
observe the natural objects and phenomena which con-
tinually fall in their way. Before this Fall these had
been nearly disregarded, or passed with a careless eye,
and usually with a wrong idea of their nature and re-
lations. Now, everything about the farm, especially of
an insect kind, is sharply scrutinized. These obser-
yations are compared and canvassed among them-
selyes, and often referred to me for decision and further
information.

We congratulate ourselves on this result, because
whatever quickens the intellectual life of working
people, or induces them to close and careful observa-
tion of matters around them, and deepens their interest
in the world through which they move, goes very far to
raise the quality of the laborers and enhance the value
of their service. Certainly, this is an incidental result ;
one, indeed, that we had not.counted much upon ; but
the fact that the happiness and intelligence of my
humble friends have thus been promoted has been a
strong stimulus to me to persist in my course.

One of these discussions was in full progress between
Hugh and Dan on the evening to which I allude.
Sarah was busy at the kitchen table that stood by the
open window just above the bench on which the men
sat, and so could join in the conversation without inter-
rupting her work. A lull in the talk gave her an oppor-
tunity to change the subject to one on which she

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 279

evidently had strong views—crickets. She took het
stand on the kitchen stoop, for better effect in uttering
her opinion, and with hands

(one of which grasped the dish-
towel) resting in a favorite at-
titude upon her hips, she began :
“It’s all werry well to talk

FIG. 96.—THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

about the peert habits an’ sich uv
them critters, but ther’s one inseck
that I hain’t no use fer no how, and
-thet’s the cricket.”’

“Wy, w’at’s the matter ’th the cricket ?”? asked
hugh.

““Tts etarnal creak, creak, cree-eek! That’s w’at’s

280 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

the matter! I can’t abide it. °T seemed to me that
ther wus a dozen uv ’em in my room last night, an’ [
never closed my eyes a blessed minit fer the noise they
made. Tho’, fer thet matter, I reckon ther’? wan’t
more’n one atter all. But, lawsamassy! w’at a cree-
eree-cree-in’ it did keep up !”’

Te cook bent forward, and made such an odd, em-
phatic, and indignant imitation of the cricket’s chirrup
that the men laughed aloud. | .

“Ch, yes; it’s mighty nice fer folks as sleeps like
posts ’n pillars to laugh at others, but if you wus as
restless 0? nights as I am, an’ ’ad been robbed uv a
whole blessed night’s sleep, ye’d laugh on t’other side
uv y3ur mouths, I kin tell you.”’

Sarah was notoriously a sound sleeper, but that fact
did not prevent her from indulging an infatuation
which has fallen upon many wiser people, of lengthen-
ing a few wakeful moments into as many hours. It is
curious how people lose the power of computing time
in the dark!

“But that isn’t the wust ‘0’ crickets—ther noise
ain’t,’’? continued Sarah. ‘‘1’d most as lief hear a hoot-
owl ura whip-poor-will under my windy a-nights as
hev a cricket a-creak-creakin’ in my room. It’s an
omen uv death 'to some one uv the family, ur some near
relation, and it jest sets me all uv a chill to hear ’em.
I’d like to kill the whoie nasty, coffin-creakin’ brood !
Thet’s my opinion about crickets !”’

** Well, Sarah !”? said Hugh, puffing a cloud of smoke
into the air, “if that is so, I guess there mus’ be an

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 281

_awful mortality goin’ on purty stiddy among folks’s re-

lations in these parts, fer I never know’d a Fall around
here that the crickets didn’t holler like the nation.
W’y the fields’s full uv ’em, and some uv ’em alluz
manage to creep indoors. Now, fer my part, I alluz
heerd tell that the cricket was rather lucky’n other-
wise.”’

[oO wis, sary Ann, so’t is: said Dan. ‘* Yo’s all
out dar ’boout de crickets.”

““W’at do you know about crickets, I’d like to
know ?” exclaimed Sarah, evidently scenting a contro-
versy.

‘““T knows a heap, Sary Ann—a heap !’? was the re-
; joinder.

The old man took a deep whiff of tobacco, then folded
his arms over his knees, lowered his body upon his
arms, and shutting his eyes, dropped into a droning,
subdued tone, as though he were speaking to some one
in the air.

‘“W’en I was a pickaninny, in ole Marylan’,”’ he
said, ‘Snot mo’n knee high to a duck, my mammy—a
Virginny woman she wuz—wunst cought me killin’ a
ericket.. I kin see des’s plain’s day de awful look on ’er
face es she grabbed me, en signed de cross ober me, en
den shuk me tel I farly chatter’d.

‘*“Doan ye nebber do dat agane, chile,’ she said. She
wuz so skeered thet she panted fer breaf, and could
skarcely speak a word. ‘I know ye done ’t widout
a-thinking, but hit’s awful wrong to kill crickets,
’spec’lly dem as’s in dohs, Dey’s de oc un ole

282 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

folkes, honey!’ She drapped her bref en spoke’n a
whisper ’et farly made my blood run cold. ‘ Dat’s w’a*
dey is, chile—ole folkses w’ats dead’n gone, en done
come back to sit in dar ole co’ner by de kitchen hearth.
Dey hadn’t otter be harmed, en woe’s dem w’at kills
*em.’? Dat’s jes w’at she said, en I ’member hit es
though it happened yestahday.”’ .

Dan slowly raised himself, took a deep, long pull at
his pipe, then closing his eyes, again resumed in a low,
solemn -tone: ‘‘ Dat—bery winter—my manmy died!
an’ to make t’ings wus-’n-wus, de nex’ summer ole
Mars sot all his niggers free, ’en we uns uz moved up
hyar inter Pennsylvany. Hit alius peared to me, ahter
dat, ez dough I wuz ’sponsible somehow fer po’
mammy’s def, en fer hevin’ to leave ole Marylan’, too.
I’s been back dar sence, but my ole ?oman she wouldn’t
stay ; but dar’s no kentry like a-dat. Dat’s w’y I says,
Sary Ann, et I knows a heap aboot crickets. An’ I
does, I kin tell ye Pe |

Sarah was silenced. She was so keenly sensitive to
_the class of emotions that Dan’s tale was calculated to
stir up, that she sat down upon the stoop quite sub-
dued. Hugh Bond, however, was not much given to
superstition. He had, indeed, imbibed some of the
notions current among his class, but held them in a
very superficial way, more as an indifferent habit of
thought than with any sincerity of faith. Dan’s story,
therefore, made no serious impression upon him. In-
deed he was rather amused by the manner of his old
companion, and the effect o® his tale upon Sarah,

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 283

At last he broke the silence :

‘“Well, Dan, that’s certainly a solemn account of
things. But, accordin’ to my mind, you hain’t made
out a very clear case agin the crickets. It looks to me
about as broad’s long, an’ a leetle more so. If the
crickets wuz responsible fer affairs at all, the loss uv
your mammy is purty well balanced by the freein’ uv
all your master’s slaves. You don’t ‘pear to reckon
much on that, I ’low; but, I rether ’spect thet you
wouldn’t find many uv the party to agree with you;
an’ I ’magine you’d sing another tune yourself ef you’d
had to take the changes and chances uv a slave’s life.

‘‘T remember hearin’ somethin’ uv this talk about
crickets w’en I was a boy, but as I recolleck it was kind
of betwixt an’ between your notion and Sarah’s. It
was about like this: If crickets has been livin’ in a
house fer a long time, an’ then up an’ leaves uv a
sudden, it’s a sign that some evil ’ll befall the family,
p’r’aps the death uv some member. But then, on the
contrary, the return uv these insecks after they’ve been
absent is a sign uv good luck; in fac’, I allus heerd
that the very presence uv crickets wuz counted lucky.

‘* But the way I look at it, there’s a heap 0’? humbug
about the whole thing, not to call it wus’n that. Now,
jist think a minit. Here we are, callin’ ourselves
Christian folks, an’ believin’ in a Providence thet rules
the world. An’ yit we sit down an’ talk uv the Father
Almighty Ruler uv Heav’n an’ earth turnin’ roun’ and
killin’ off a poor ole woman all along uv an innocent
baby killin’ a cricket. Fer my part I hain’t no notion

284 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

}
that the Lord consults crickets ur any other sort uv bug
about the gover’ment uv human beins. But supposin’
we ax Mr. Mayfield about this matter. He’s chock full
uv all kin’s uv inseck larnin’, an’ ’ll straighten it out
fer us.” |

So it came about that the crickets were made the sub-
ject of an evening’s discourse, and the topic broadened
out into ‘‘ Insect Music.’’ Fortunately, Dr. Goodman
had an engagement to preach and conduct a children’s
service in the ‘‘ Blue Church,’’ a free place for public
religious service in our neighborhood, and as he was
to be our guest, drove over Saturday afternoon, and
was thus present at our Conversation.

‘“ Without stopping at present,’’ I began, ‘* to settle
the points raised concerning the popular notions about
crickets, I would like you first of all to know something

about the natural history of the imsects themselves.
| They belong to the sub-order Orthoptera, which may be
briefly characterized as having free biting mouth parts,
with highly developed organs of nutrition and diges-
tion. The first pair of wings are somewhat thickened
to protect the broad net-veined hinder pair which fold
up like a fan upon the abdomen, and the hind legs are
large and adapted for leaping. The larvee and pupe are
both active, and closely resemble the imago or perfect
insect. Most species are terrestrial, having no quali-
fications for water life, and the most typical forms have
remarkable powers of flight, besides leaping powerfully.
The grasshopper is the type of the group, and some of’

its best-known forms are the crickets, grasshoppers,

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH

locusts, mole-crickets, katydids, cockroaches, walking-
sticks or spectres, and mantis or soothsayers.”’

‘‘ Why are these insects called Orthoptera ?’’ asked
Abby.

FIG. 97.—WHITE CRICKETS, MALE AND FEMALE, FROM NATURE,
REDUCED ONE-THIRD.

‘The word is composed of two Greek words—orthos,

straight, and pteron, a wing. The Doctor is quite

familiar with the first of these in the theological com<

286 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

pound—orthodoxy. The name ‘straight wings’ is
given because their wings, when not in use, are folded
lengthwise in narrow plaits like a fan, and are laid
straight along the top or sides of the back. You will
notice this by looking at these prepared specimens,
which i have brought for our use this evening. We have
several species, natives of our section, representing
three genera, and besides these the common European
house-cricket (Gryllus domesticus), which has figured
so largely in song, story, and superstition, has been im-
ported and domesticated in some parts of the country.
These differ quite widely in their habits, some being
solitary, some social, some dwelling in the ground,
some living upon trees, some nocturnal, others loving
the day.

‘** The story of their development is about as follows :
Most of them deposit their numerous eggs in the
ground, making holes for their reception with the long
spear-pointed piercers with which the females are pro-
vided for this purpose. - The eggs are laid in the
autumn, and do not appear to be hatched until the fol-
lowing summer. One of our species, the White Climb-
ing Cricket (Aicanthus niveus), differs from her sisters in
egg-placing (ovipositing). She makes several perfora-
tions in the tender stems of plants, and in each punc-
ture thrusts two eggs quite to the pith. These are
hatched about midsummer, and the young immediately
issue from their nests and conceal themselves among
the thickest foliage of the plant. This kind of cricket
inhabits the stems and branches of shrubs and trees,

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. . 287

concealing itself in the day time among the leaves or in
the flowers. It is to this habit that the generic name -
is due (Cicanthus), a word which means inhabiting
flowers. (Fig. 97.)

** After hatching, the young crickets, in common with
all the Orthoptera, very closely resemble the adult in-
sects in form, ard differ from them chiefly in wanting
wings. They move about and feed precisely like their
parents, but moult or change their skins repeatedly be-
fore they come to their full size. This corresponds to
the grub or larval stage in other insects.

‘The next stage is also quite different from that of
moths, butterflies, and beetles. These insects, you
have already learned, pass into a state of inactivity and
rest, in which they lose the grub-like or larval form
which they had when hatched from the egg, and be-
come the pupa or crysalis. This resembles a little
more nearly the mature form, but is soft, whitish, and
with the undeveloped wings and legs incased in a thin,
transparent skin, which impedes all motion.”’

‘*Do we understand you to say,” asked the Doctor,
‘“‘that the cricket does not pass through the crysalis
stage ?”

‘Precisely. On the contrary, in the pupa state
crickets do not differ from the young and from the old
insects, except in having the rudiments of wings and
wing-covers projecting, like little scales, from the back
near the thorax.”’

‘© And is that the case with all the Orthoptera ?”’

**Yes ; grasshoppers, katydids, locusts, and all the

288 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

rest have the same peculiarity in their development.
These Orthopterous pup are active and voracious,
and increase greatly in size, which is not the case with
insects that are subject to a complete transformation,
for such never eat or grow in a pupa state. If you will
catch a dozen grasshoppers and locusts at a venture,
in a mid-summer field, you may easily notice these
differences in size and in the length of wings, showing
the adult from the less mature forms. When fully
grown the Orthoptera cast off their skins for the sixth
or last time, and then appear in the adult or perfect
state, fully provided with all their members, with the
exception of a few kinds, which remain wingless. In
fact, the slight changes which crickets and all the Or-
thoptera undergo in their progress to maturity are
nothing more than a successive series of moultings,
during which their wings are gradually developed.”’

‘* T have seen it stated,’’ said Abby, ‘“‘ that we have no
house-crickets in America. And indeed I cannot re-
member ever to have heard them in-doors in my native
State, Massachusetts.”

**Dar’s plenty uv em in ole Marylan’, ’tany rate,”
observed Dan ; ‘‘dat am a fac’, I shore yo’—fiel’-crickets
en house-crickets, too. En es to bein’ hyar in Pennsyl-
vany, jes yo? ax Sary Ann dar! W’y deys lots on ’em
in dis hyar ole place !”

‘‘ Yes, and there is nothing better known to the coun-
try people of our border states than the ‘ Cricket on the
Hearth ;’? I have often met them in the West inhabiting
chimney places and first-floor apartments of dwellings.

THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 289

My experience of old Pennsylvania houses in autumn
is not very extensive, but l have met them here, and
know certainly that they abound.”

‘‘J have never passed a winter,’’ said the Doctor,
‘‘ without hearing their music in our parsonage, and I
have often heard it in my various preaching tours
while domiciled in coun try hotels and houses.”’

_** Hark!” cried the. Mistress, springing to her feet.
The suddenness of the movement and the sharpness
of the exclamation startled us all into silence. Every
eye was turned wonderingly upon the Mistress, who
stood erect in the ruddy glow of the hickory-wood fire,
pointing with one arm toward the upper corner of the
chimney.

—“Orick-crr-ri-ick !—rr-r-rick 1”?

The silence was broken by a shrill, creaking note
issuing apparently from a pot of artificial flowers that
stood on one side of the broad stone mantle-piece.

It was the “Cricket on the Hearth !”?

A merry laugh and a hearty round of applause from
clapping hands greeted the advent of the little musi-
cian whose timely note had now settled the question
which the Schoolma’am had raised.

Old Dan looked up from his low perch, and rolled his
eyes and rocked his body in ecstasy. ‘‘ Dar it be, dar
it be P? he exclaimed. ‘‘ Dar’s good luck shore to de noo
family in de ole house. De sperits uv de ole folks hes
come back, en dar’sa blessin init! Hi, yi! Ho, ho,
ho 12

Dan’s speech awoke a fresh burst of merriment, in

290 _ TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

the midst of which Aunt Hannah’s reproving voice was
heard: ‘‘ Daniel, Daniel! thee is too provoking with thy
childish superstitions. Thee has been taught better
than that by the good Friends who once sat by this
hearth-stone, and whose spirits are in a Better Home
or they would surely grieve over thy folly.”

“Well, Aunt Hannah,” I said, interrupting the si-
lence which this remark had caused, ‘‘ we musn’t be too
hard upon Dan. You know the proverb, * it’s harde to).
teach an old dog new tricks.’ At all events we are
much obliged to our little friend in the chimney corner
for this very remarkable and timely contribution to our
conversation. For my part I shall accept it as a good
omen, without endorsing Dan’s peculiar notion as to
SOI? 7?

Aunt Hannah shook her head soberly ; but the Mis-
tress looked up with a happy and approving glance,
and I turned once more to our subject.

‘Crickets, are for the most part, nocturnal and soli-
tary insects. That is, they live alone, concealing them-
selves. by day, and come from their retreats to seek their
food and their mates by night. They sit at the doors of
their caves and chirrup away for hours together. The
hearth-cricket belongs to this class. Our common
species are the short-winged Gryllus (Gryllus abbreviatus
Serville), which is about three-quarters of an inch long,
of a black color, with a brownish tinge at the base of
the wing-cover, which is sometimes wanting in the male ;
the Black Cricket, or Pennsylvania Gryilus (Gryllus
Pennsylvanicus Burmeister), which is quite black, and

THE CRICKET ON THH HEARTH. 291

measures six-tenths of an inch in length (Fig. 98); and
Gryllus neglectus Scudder, which differs from the last-
named by having a shorter ovipositor.*

‘* Then there are the field-crickets. Besides the white
climbing cricket (Cicanthus), which I have mentioned,

FIG. 98.—BLACK CRICKETS (GRYLLUS PENNSYLYANICUS), FROM
NATURE, REDUCED ONE-FOURTH.

there is a wingless species (Nemobius vittutus), the

Striped Cricket. It is very small. about four-tenths of

an inch long, and varies in color from dusky brown to

rusty black. This is a social species whose individuals

associate im great swarms, feed in common, frequent

our meadows and road-sides, and so far from shunning

* Scudder now considers this also G. Pennsylvanicus.

292 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

daylight, seem to be as fond of it as other crickets are of
darkness.

‘** Now we are ready to consider how and why the
crickets make their music. The old insects, for the most
part, die on the approach of cold weather; but a few
survive the winter by sheltering themselves under
stones, or in holes secure from the aecess of water. Of
these are the solitary stragglers who make their way into

our houses, and warmed up by the genial fire to some -

dim suggestion of summer, are awakened into a sense
of their forlorn estate, and creak out their loneliness to
some imagined mate. The same sounds are heard over
all our fields, and almost without cessation from twi-
light to dawn during our autumn months, There is no
music in summer, for pairing does not begin until Fall,
and the cricket’s music is a love-call. It is the male’s
signal to his mate, and if ever there was a persist-
ent, vociferous and self-satisfied serenader it is he.”’
(Fig. 99.)

‘* Do you tell us that the female doesn’t sing ?’’ asked
Abby, with some surprise.

“Neither males nor females sing, for the insects
have no vocal organs. But the gift of music, such as it
is, is bestowed upon the male alone. Whether Madam
Cricket is a laser thereby may be doubted, but the
human species is the gainer; for, if Nature had en-
dowed both sexes with the power of shrilling, the night
discords would have been scarcely bearable.”

‘“Does that fact apply to all Orthoptera ?”? asked the
Doctor.

+

er
HIN i :

= ——

Fic. 99.—THE WHITE CRICKET’s SERENADE.

294 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘Yes, grasshoppers, katy-dids and locusts all keep
their music-making among the males.”’

‘What astrange contrast with the human family 1”
said Penn. ‘‘ With us now the sweetest singers are
always of the fairer sex.”’ |

‘“ Are you quite sure of that ?’’ suggested the Doctor.
“Ts not that statement drawn from your courtesy
rather than from the actual facts ? If one were to fol-
low the subject throughout the various races of men, or
even trace it among civilized nations, it might be found
that at least the chief music-makers of our own species
are of the male sex. Certainly, it cannot be questioned
that the great masters of music are and have been men.
In the more perfect and complex organization of man-
kind it is a matter of course that the song-gift should be
largely shared by the female; but the primative order
of Nature, as Mr. Mayfield has shown it to us in the
male insects, is probably so far preserved as to give man
superiority over woman as a music-making creature—
a superiority which is most unquestionable in the mat-
ter of instrumental music. It occurs to me, however,
that there is here an analogy even more curious and
striking. It is remarkable that among mankind also
music has ever found and still finds one of her widest
spheres of use in affairs of the heart. It is the natural
expression of the deepest passion that men as well as
insects know—love. The soul of music is emotion, and
the profound passions of love, religion, and joy of victory
have ever been voiced in rythmic speech and meio-

dious notes,”

THE CRICKET ON THH HEARTH. 295

“T have been thinking,” observed Penn, apparently
addressing himself to his mother, ‘‘ that if music has’
such a noble origin and use in nature as to utter the
love of one creature for another, the testimony which
our people—the Friends—bear against it might well be
reviewed. ”’

‘* Our people,’’? answered Aunt Hannah, “ bore their
testimony chiefly against the unspiritual and carnal use
of music in the worship of God, and I do not perceive
that the world has ceased to have need for a clear testi-
mony in that particular. Perhaps our fathers carried it
a little too far when they opposed the private use of
music, but thee knows that human nature is apt to go
to extremes, and the wise and good men of old chose
to be at least on the safe side.

*‘T will not pretend to give an opinion upon the views
of our learned friend the Doctor. They may be true;
but I can say that I know people who have a very in-
tense power of loving who have no music in their souls :
and some who can sing to the fullest admiration of the
world’s people who are as shallow in their affectional
natures as a babbling brook. Now, I wouldn’t expect
thee, Penn, if thee should ever fall in love, to vent thy
feelings in a moonlight serenade, for thee knows thee
can’t tell ‘Yankee Doodle’ from ‘Old Hundred,’ or
‘Home, Sweet Home’ from ‘Rosin the Bow.’ ”’

Penn blushed deeply under this home thrust, while
his mother continued: ‘‘ And yet I know that thee has
a very deep and tender nature. But all this is out of
place, perhaps, and, if lam not mistaken, out of point,

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THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 297

‘too. For what argument can one draw to any subject
pertaining to music from the discordant, ear-piercing
creaking of a cricket ? Quaker as I am, I would be
sorry to dignify such noise by so high a title.”’

‘“Oh, no |”? exclaimed the Mistress, ‘‘ don’t say that !
On the contrary, I love the cricket’s chirrup, and think
it very sweet music, indeed. But there is no account-
ing for tastes, and no reconciling them in this matter
as in many others. What is music for one person is
clamor and discord to another.”’ |

~** Dat is jes so !’’ said Dan, who appeared to be much
impressen by the last remark. ‘I was remarkin’ dat
t’other day wen some one sayed dar wahn’t no music
en a conk-shell. Now, fer my part, w’en I’s hungry
and tired wu’kin en de harves’ fiel’ and Sary Ann comes
out to de ba’n va’d, an blows dat conk uv hern fer
_ dinna’, an’ de toot-too-too! comes a rollin’ ober de fiels,
hit seems to me dar’s no music out ob Canaan et’s sweet-
er’n dat. Dat’s de kin’ ob cricket on de hearf dat suits
my taste—jes’ at dem times.”’ |

Sarah scarcely knew whether to receive as compli-
mentary or the reverse Dan’s comparison of herself and
. her conch-shell to an insect that she detested ; but
finally joined in the laugl which the conceit had occa-
sioned.

By-the-way, this old-fashioned dinner-call which used
to be popular among farm’rs wives in early days in
Pennsylvania, is one of ‘sarah’s particular vanities.
The, conch is her own property, and she brought it
with her- to our service, pleading for ies at least

298 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

when the workmen were afield. The oddity pleased
the Mistress, and indeed we all now have a sort of pride
in Sarah’s shell, which she sounds not only with thorough
gusto but with the skill of a Triton. In my rambles I
have often heard with high satisfaction its midday or
evening notes, mellowed by distance and associated
with home and good fare, echoing over the meadows
and through the waving corn.

Sarah keeps it suspended upon a rustic bracket of
oak-forks above the kitchen hearth, so that Dan’s
metaphor had a special appositeness which the family
at least appreciated.

‘‘Isn’t it time for us to go back from our digression ?”’
I suggested. ‘‘If you are quite satisfied with your
philosophizing over the cricket’s music, suppose we
turn our attention to the question how the music is
made.”

CHAPTER XVI.
MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS,

THE instruments by which the male cricket produces
the sounds which have given such celebrity to this
insect, form a part of the wing-covers. The base or
horizontal and overlapping portion of these organs
near the thorax is conyex, and marked with large,
strong, and irregularly curved veins. These veins run
through the middle portion of the wing. When the
‘cricket chirrups or shrills he raises the wing-covers a
little and shuffles them together lengthwise, so that the
projecting veins of one are made to grate against those
of another. If we seek an analogy for this action
among musical instruments we must select the violin,
whose sounds are produced by the rubbing of the bow
against the strings, or the banjo, harp and guitar,
whose sounds are evoked by striking the fingers upon
the strings. In fact it is quite as much like a file or a
watchman’s rattle.

‘* Do all insects make their music in the same way rags
asked Abby.

‘The sound-producing organs are constructed on the
same general principle, but there is much difference in
details. In the katydid for example, the musical in-

struments.are a pair of taborets. Most of you are quite
299

300 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

familiar with the note of this insect, which is one of the
best known sounds of our autumn evenings. The ap-
pearance of the insect is less familiar. Here it is. (Fig.
101). This is a large insect, measuring from the head
to the ends of the wing-covers more than an inch and a
half; the body is an inch long, is of a pale green color,
the wing-cover and wings being somewhat darker. Its
thorax is rough like shagreen, and has somewhat the
form of a saddle, being curved downward on each side,
and rounded and slightly elevated behind. The wings
are rather shorter than the wing-covers, and the latter
are very large, oval and concave, and inclose the body
within their concavity, meeting at their edges above
and below, something like the two sides or valves of a
pea-pod. The veins are large, very distinet, and netted
like those of some leaves. There is one vein of larger
size running along the middle of each wing-cover resem-
bling the mid-rib of a leaf.

The taborets are formed by a thin and transparent
membrane, stretched in a strong, half oval frame in the
triangular overlapping portion of each wing-cover.
When the male wishes to sound his call, he opens and
shuts the wing-coyers so that the frames of the taborets
rub rapidly and violently against each other. The
mechanism of the taborets and the concavity of the
wing-covers reverberate and increase the sound to such
a degree that it may be heard in the stillness of the
night at the distance of a quarter of a mile.

“The music of the katydid is certainly remarkable

considering how -it is produced, It consists of two or

FIG. .101.—KATYDIDS : MALE (UPPER FIGURE) AND FEMALE,
NATURAL SIZE, FROM NATURE. 301

302 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

three distinct notes, almost exactly resembling articu-
lated sounds. These correspond to the rapidity with
which the wing-covers are shifted across each other,
and the note produced is very well expressed in the
popuiar name of the insect.”’

‘* Are the katydids nocturnal insects like the cricket ?”
asked Abby. |

‘Yes; during the daytime they are silent, and con-
ceal themselves among the leaves of trees; but at the
approach of twilight they quit their lurking-places and
mount to the tops of the trees in which they live.
Then the males begin the tell-tale call with which they
enliven their silent mates. The noisy babble breaks
forth from neighboring trees, until all the groves at last
resound with the rival notes of ‘ Katy-did it, katydid 2
The amorous concert continues the live-long night, and
at the break of day the serenaders creep back to their
leafy covert.”’ |

‘* What is the scientific name of the katydid ?”’ asked
the Doctor.

“ Tt.is somewhat formidable— Cyrtophyllus concavus ;
but the name, which indicates a curved wing, 1s
quite expressive, as you may see by a glance at the
insect in repose.

‘“@he story of katydid’s development is but a repeti-
tion of the cricket’s. It is found in the perfect state
during the months of September and October, at which
time the female lays her eggs. These are about: an
eighth of an inch in length, and resemble tiny, oval

bivalve shells in shape. The insect lays them in two

MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 303

contiguous rows along the surface of a twig, the bark of
which has been previously shaved off or made rough

with her piercer. Each row consists of eight or nine-
eggs, placed somewhat obliquely and overlapping each

other a little, and they are fastened to the twig with a

gummy substance. In hatching, the egg splits open at

one end and the young insect creeps through the cleft.

Its history after that, as I have said, quite resembles

that of other Orthoptera.”’

‘“ Are the katydids and crickets injurious to vegeta-
tion ?’”? asked Penn.

‘“The katydids do little harm; but crickets when
they abound do much injury, eating the most tender
parts of plants, and even devouring roots and fruits
when they can get at them. Melons, squashes and po-
tatoes are often eaten by them, and the quantity of
grass that they destroy must be great, judging by the
immense numbers which are sometimes seen in our
meadows and fields. They are not strict vegetarians,
however, but devour other insects when they can over-
power them.”’

‘* Are not crickets, like katydids, named from the
character of the note which they sound ?’’ inquired
Abby.

‘*Undoubtedly,’’ answered the Doctor; ‘‘and it isa
curious fact, and one quite suggestive as to the natural
origin of a certain class of words, that the note of this
insect has suggested its name in several other lan-
guages. . The French cri-eri, the Dutch krekel, the
Welsh cricell and cricella, are, like the English cricket,

304 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.
evidently derived from the creak-ing sounds which the
insect makes.’’

‘‘ Speaking of this community of ideas among va-
rious nations reminds me,’’ I said, ‘‘ of an odd trick at
which I saw Harry and one of his little friends engaged |
a few evenings ago while crossing the Brook Meadow.

They were fishing for crickets Ms

‘‘ Fishing !”? exclaimed the Mistress. ‘* Didn’t you
tell us that they and other Orthoptera were not at all
adapted to the water, which they shun ?”’

“True ; and Iam glad that the lesson is so well re-
membered. The boys’ fishing was confined to the
earth-holes in which the crickets live. They had ants
and flies fastened to a long straw, which they thrust
down the hole. The cricket is a combative as well as a
musical animal, and can often be brought out of his den
simply by intruding the naked straw ; but bait proves
an additional attraction. Now, the point worth noting
about this is that the French children amuse them-
selves by the same method of capturing crickets. In-
deed, the fact has given rise to a proverb quite com-
mon in France, i est sot comme un grillon—he is silly as
a cricket! More than that, as early as the days of
Pliny a similar practice was in vogue, for that author
tells us that the manner of hunting and catching these
insects was to tie a fly at the end of a long hair and let.
it down into the cricket’s hole, first taking the precau-
tion to blow away any dust that might prove a refuge
for the bait. The cricket spies the fly, seizes and clasps
it around, and so they are both drawn forth together.”’

MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 305

“That is certainly a curious coincidence,’’ said the
Doctor. ‘‘ And it is a most interesting point to con- ©
sider whether this and such like tricks and games of
children have been preserved and distributed by tra-
dition, through all these years, and among the various
peoples where they obtain, or whether they have sprung
up spontaneously in the youthful minds of various na-
tions and ages. In either case we have a fact looking
towards the common origin and unity of the human
race.7?

**Don’t forget, Mr. Mayfield,” suggested Hugh,
‘‘that leetle question between Dan and Sarah as to
w’ether crickets bring good or bad luck.”’

“Thanks for the suggestion; I have not forgotten
it. But as this subject is rather more in the line of Dr.
Goodman’s studies than mine, I took the liberty of re-
ferring it to him. Are you ready to respond, Doctor ?”

“To be quite candid,’”’? he answered, ‘‘I have not
been able to do very much, although I know there must
be a great deal of material scattered through literature,
if one could only lay hands on it. However, I have
brought a few notes. Gilbert White, in his ‘ Natural
History of Selborne,’ an old-fashioned but to me still
delightful book, speaks of erickets thus: ‘ They are the
housewife’s barometer, foretelling her when it will rain,
‘and are prognostics sometimes, she thinks, of ill or
good luck, of the death of a near relative, or the ap-
‘proach of an absent lover. By being the constant com-
panion of her solitary hours they naturally become the
objects of her superstition.’ This appears to decide the

306 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

controversy in favor of both parties, a highly satisfies
tory decision.”’

‘*There,’? exclaimed Sarah, whose interest in this
point had once more withdrawn her from the shadow
of her kitchen door, ‘‘ didn’t I tell youso, Dan? The
cricket’s chirp is a sign uv ill luck—-the death uv a near
relation. Iknowed I’uzright!’’ And she returned in
triumph to her seat.

‘* Hol’ on, Sary Ann!’ said Dan, ‘‘ dat’s no fa’r!
Didn’t dat aufer ’low dat de cricket brot good luck, too,
Doctor ?”’

‘* Yes, he certainly does ; and here’s more on your
side of the question, Dan. Milton, in his ‘Il Penser-
oso,’ chose for his contemplative pleasures a spot
where crickets resorted, and he speaks of that insect’s
note as the one token of merriment in the place:

‘ Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,
Far from all resort of mirth,
Save the cricket on the hearth.’

‘Ts that the origin of the popular phrase ‘ Cricket on
the hearth ?’”? asked Abby.

** Really I do not know; but it is the source from
which it is generally quoted. In the same strain, and
more decidedly, the poet Cowper writes, in his ‘ Ad-
dress to a Cricket,’ chirping on his kitchen hearth :

s¢ ¢ Wheresoe’er be thine abode
Always harbinger of good.’

é6The best-known allusion is found in recent litera-.

ture. Most readers of Charles Dickens will remember

sir
eis ce ae

MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 307

how he embodies the popular superstition in his little
tale ‘ The Cricket on the Hearth.’ When the carrier’s:
young wife hears the familiar note in the chimney-
place, she exclaims: ‘It’s sure to bring us good for-
tune, John! It always has been so. To have a cricket
on the hearth is the luckiest tbingin the world!’ That
seems to be the most prevalent superstition. I also
find reference to the peculiar form of the superstition
which Hugh Bond remembers. Sir William Jardine
alludes to it in The Mirror as common in Dumfries-
shire. These are the most interesting points which I
have been able to note.”’

**Sary Ann!’ exclaimed Dan, wheeling his cricket
around, and gazing into the kitchen shadows, ‘‘ Sary
Ann, did yo heah dat ?’? There was no reply.

‘‘Sary Ann,’ persisted the old man, ‘‘ Is yo’ done loss
yo’ tongue? W’y doan yo’ speak up, den? Hi! Didn’t
EF tole yo’ so?”

But there was no response. Sarah had appropriated
her portion of the decision, and was too well satisfied to
review the case. Well, she is not alone in this attitude:
Why should a man care to hear more testimony, or to
have more light, when his opinion has once been reason-
ably well confirmed ?

Dan, unable to evoke any response from the oracle of
the kitchen, turned back to his place, made a significant
gesture upward with his eyes and hands, and chuckled
softly to himself.

““Are there any superstitions associated with the
katydid ?”’ asked the Mistress.

308 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘‘T am afraid that I must refer that question to Dan,”’
I answered, laughing. ‘‘The only items in that line
which I ever heard or saw, I received from him,
Come, Dan, here’s a good chance to air your ghostly
learning. Tell us what you know about katydids.”’

Dan was never known to deny himself a good oppor-
tunity to talk, and readily assented ; but-he felt bound
to free himself from what he considered an imputation
of illicit knowledge.

‘*De good Lor’ forbid, Mars Mee fel’)? hes heaam:
‘‘dat I should have anythink to do wid ghos’es. I
nebber seed a ghos’, bress de Lor’! I’s heern tell uv
folks as ud done got dey knowledge from de ebil
sperits ; but, sah, I nebber eat ob dat forbidden fruit.
No, sah, nebba !”’

He placed his hands on his knees, sat bolt upright,
and uttered the last words with great emphasis, and a
comical show of dignity.

‘* All de larnin’ I has ’boot dese tings I done lane
from ole Marylan’ and Virginny folks. I come up hyar
w’en I wuz a pickaninny; but I went back to de ole
state, and lived dar five year. Dat’s whar I larned aboot
sich tings; not from ghostesses, fore goodness, Mars
Mayfiel’! Aboot dem katydids, ’taint much et I know,
but dis is hit: If a katydid comes inter de house, dat’s a
sign, dey say, et a visitor’ll soon come widout bein’
*spected. Ef it sings in de house, dat’s a sign some ob
de family’ll be shore to hab de gif? ob music, like de
banjo or pianner, ur dat like.

‘Den, dar wuz a cur’us story ’boot two sisters wat

MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 809

fell bof in lub wid one man. I doan’ tink dis happen
in ole Marylan’, but in some kentry ober de sea, I
reckon. De gemmen’s name wuz Osca’, an’ de ladies’
wuz Blanche an’ Kate. Ob course, no man can lub
two mars’rs, as de Scripter says, en it stans to reason
he can’t lub two misses, nudder. So Osca’ falls in lub
wid Blanche, an’ Kate she gits soured, an’ falls to
hatin’ her ole lubber. All ob a sudden Osca’ done lay
down an’ died ; an’ seein’ dat, Blanche she goes clar
crazy, fur she lubbed him powerful, an’ raved, an’ raved.
Dar wuz a great mystry ’boot de whole affah. Nobudy
know’d anythink ’boot it but Miss Kate. She know’d
mighty well, fur she’d a-killed Osca’ herse’f!

**TIn dem fur-away times dey wahnt no true ’ligion
as dey is nowadays, an’ so de people ob dat kentry dey
had a god w’at dey calls Jup’ter. Now, Jup’ter he
sees how tings was a-goin’, en he done tuk de sperit ob
young Osca’, wat Kate had a-murdered ; an’ wat does
he do but turn it inter a katydid ? An’ he sots ’im up
on de tree-tops war Miss Kate wuz a-walkin’? wid some
folks. Jes’ den dey wur a-talkin’ ’boot how suddent
like de young man ud died; an’ some un ’lowed he
reckoned Osca’ mought’ve bin pizened.

“© Who could a done it ?’ he says, awful solemn like.
And nobudy answered; ’kase,; yo’ see, dar wahnt no
*spicions ob foul play ’gin Miss Kate in de least. Jes’
den, in de mids’ ob dat solemn silence, de new inseck—
dat’s de sperit ob Osca’, yo’ know —cried out from de
tree-top, sharp, en loud, en suddent: ‘ Katy did a!
Katy did ! she did!’ An? dat’s de way dat mudda wuz

310 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

a-found out, an’ dat’s how ebry wicked deed hab a voice
cryin’ out somewhar agin it. Dar’s no use in talkin’,
mudda will out. Dat’s all I know, ladies and gemmen’,
boot de Katydid.”’

‘‘ What became of Miss Kate ?’?? asked Harry, with
a child’s natural yearning to hear the end of a
story. ;

‘*Bress yo’ heart, honey, dat story stopped jes’ a-
dar. I nebber heerd no end to it at all. But as Miss
Kate wur a white lady, I reckon nothin’ wuz ebber
done aboot it; “less dey woted her non compus, an’ shet
her up awile. But ef she’d a-been a cullud pusson, I
reckon yo’ mout a-guessed dey’d a-made short work ob
her.’?, |

‘* Well, Dan,’ said the Schoolma’am, ‘‘ that is a very
interesting romance, certainly, and it carries an ad-

mirable moral. May I ask if these notions-are held
| entirely by your own color in Maryland, or do the
whites also hold them ?”

‘De cullud folks, Miss Abby,’’ answered Dan, ‘‘ hes
many cur’us notions, dat’s a fac, ’boot insecks, en
aligators, en rabbits, en bars, en all sorts o’ beastis.
Some ob dem, I reckon, come frum dey native kentry,
whar de sperits hes moh’ to do wid sech critters, I
s’pose, dan ober hyar in dis Christian lan’. But den
de white people has some ob dem berry sayins, too.
Hit’s not all jes’ niggah larnin, Miss Abby, no how.”’

It was now time, I thought, to bring back our con-
versation to the sphere of Natural History. Taking
another insect box from the table, I opened it and

ee ee re a), ee

) . ae
oe ee he a ee

TO ae

+ eres

FIG. 102.—cICADA, FEMALE AND MALE (UPPER FIGURES). ‘LOCUST
(LOWER FIGURES), DISSOSTEIRA CAROLINA. FROM NATURE.

: 311

312 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

began: ‘Here are specimens of the most famous of
all the music-making insects—the Harvest-fly, or
Cicada. Look at them, Hugh, and then hand the
box to your neighbor.”’ (Fig. 102, upper figures.)

Hugh glanced at the pinned specimens, and at once
exclaimed : “‘ W’y, sir, these haint harvest flies—they’re
locusts. ”’

‘¢ Are you quite sure, Hugh ?”’

‘“Oh, yes, sir! I’ve seen thousands uv ’em—the
seventeen-year locust. An’ ther’s another kind thet
comes every year, or mebbe they’re only sort 0’ strag-
glers. But I know ’em well, sir.”’

Several of the company were quite as positive as
Hugh in their identification of the insect, and for a
moment I found my entomological reputation in peril.

‘‘Well,”? I resumed, ‘“‘having sufficiently enlisted
your attention, I may assure you that you are both
right and wrong. You are right, according to the
popular name of the insect, but utterly and grossly
wrong as to the true title. There is about as much
likeness between this creature and a locust as between
a horse and a cow. There are few American entomolo-
gists who have not often been compelled to explain
the wide and fundamental difference between these so-
called ‘‘locusts”’’ of the United States and the “ true
locusts’? of Holy Scripture and our Far West. The
latter (Fig. 102, below) really do often ‘‘ eat every tree
which groweth for you out of the field,’’ as they did'in
the days of the plagues of Egypt; while the former
having no jaws to eat with, and only a beak to suck

ft

MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 313

sap with are physically incapable of eating anything
at all.

‘“The two kinds of insects do not even belong to
the same order, or to the same grand group of orders.
The former are ‘‘Suckers’’ (Haustellata); the latter
are ‘* Biters ”’ (Mandibulata). The former belong to the
order Homoptera, the latter to the order Orthoptera.
The former have their front wings glassy and trans-
parent ; the latter have them more or less leathery and
opaque. The former have a mere apology for antenne,
which the general observer would entirely overlook ;
the latter have quite conspicuous and rather long
antennee. In short, what people call ‘‘ locusts” in
America are called ‘‘Cicadas,’”’ or ‘* Harvest-flies,’’ in
Europe ; and what in the Old World are known as
‘locusts ?’? are called ‘* grasshoppers”? in the United
States. This popular error has been the cause of
much confusion, and is greatly to be regretted ; but
one almost despairs of correcting the absurd blunder,
at least in this generation.

‘“ We have three or four species of Cicada in our coun-
try ; two of these appear annually: a small spring
Cicada (Cicada rimosa), which begins to be heard a
little before the middle of June; and the large autum-
nal species (Cicada pruinosa), which is probably the
best known of all. Then we have two periodical species :
-that remarkable and famous insect the so-called seven-
teen-year locust (Cicada septendecim), and its close
ally, the thirteen-year Cicada (Cicada tredecim). Few
animals have so remarkable a history es two last

314 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

named, but before we consider that, let us look at their
musical organs, and compare them with those of the
ericket and katydid.

‘** The males alone are musical, and their well-known
ratiling buzz is 4 love-call to their silent mates. The
instruments by which the sounds are produced are a
pair of kettle-drums, as they may be called, situated
one on each side of the body. These can be plainly
- seen here just behind the wings. These drums are
formed of convex pieces of parchment-like membrane,
gathered into numerous fine plaits, and are lodged in
cavities on the sides of the bodies behind the thorax.
They are not played upon with sticks, of course, but by
muscles or cords fastened to the inside of the drums,
When these muscles contract aud. relax, which they
do with great rapidity, the drum-heads are alternately
tightened and loosened, recovering their natural con-
vexity by their own elasticity. Our Cicada may, there-
fore, be called a drummer.”

‘‘ But Mr. Mayfield,” interrupted Harry, ‘‘a drum-
head don’t tighten and loosen in that way. You
tighten it up, and keep it tight, or it wouldn’t drum at
all.”’ ;

‘‘Of course, Harry,’’ I replied, ‘* we can only speak
in figures when we compare the sound-producing or-
gans of insects.to musical instruments of any sort. AIl
I mean is that the principle upon which the Cicada’s
note is produced is like ¢nat upon which sounds are
brought out of a drum-head, Let us see if this is not
so. Here is a sheet of tin which I have laid upon the

MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. ~ 315

table to illustrate my point. It is not flat, but is bent
into little rolls and hollows.. I put my finger upon one
of the elevated parts, and push it down, and remove
my finger, so. It makes a loud, rattling noise. I re-
peat the motion rapidly a number of times, and you
hear a succession of these sounds.”’

‘“‘ Certainly they are distinct enough, but they can
hardly be called musical,’? remarked the Mistress,
laughing, as the loud clatter of the tin sheet resounded
thyough the room.

“True enough; but is a kettle-drum any more so ?”’
queried Aunt Hannah. |

‘“Tam not so much concerned about the esthetical
part of my illustration,’’ I replied, ‘‘as the practical.
Now, Harry, observe, when the drumstick falls upon the
tight drum-head, it pushes it down just as my finger did
the tin sheet ; when it is lifted the drum-head springs
up again, and that motion produces a sound not unlike
that which I have just made. As the skin out of which
the drum-head is made is stretched over a hollow cylin-
der, or ‘ barrel,’ the vibrations of the air are greatly in-
creased, and so also is the intensity of the sound. Do
you understand that, Harry ?”

**T think I do, sir,”’ said the boy.

“Very well; it is quite in this way that the Cicada’s
note is produced. These convex membranes or drums
of which I spoke are the drum-heads. But where
are the ‘barrels’ over which they are stretched ?
Here they are. There are certain cavities within the
body of the insect which may be seen on raising two

316 THNANTS OF AN OLD- FARM

large valves beneath the belly, and which are separated
from each other by thin partitions having the trans-
_ parency and brilliancy of thin and highly polished
glass. In most of our species of Cicada the drums are
not visible on the outside of the body, but are covered.
by convex triangular pieces on each side of the first
ring behind the thorax, which must be cut away in
order to expose them. Now, if we raise the large
valves, of which I spoke, there is seen close to each side
of the body the little opening like a pocket in which
the drum is lodged, and from which the sound issues
when the insect opens the valve.”’

‘* Sir,’ said Harry, ‘‘ you have shown us the drum-
head and the drum-barrel, but where are the drum-
sticks ?”

‘* You forget ; I have already spoken of them. They .
are the muscles or cords fastened to the inside of the
drums, by which the heads are made to rapidly tighten
and loosen. Unfortunately, I cannot show you these
without better optical aids than we have here ; but you
must take their existence on faith or authority, as one
has to do very many things in Natural History. The
effect of the rapid’ alternate tension and relaxation of
these drum-stick muscles and the membrane attached
to them, is the production of the rattling buzz, which
constitutes the familiar music of the cicada. And now
that I have given my illustration, I shall ask Harry to
give one which he has prepared at my request.”’

Harry blushed and hesitated, but finally took from
his pocket an instrument with which my own boyhood

MUSIC-MAKING ILNSECTS. . 317

had been quite familiar. It was alittle hollow tube of tin,
over which a stiff piece of writing-paper was stretched
and securely fastened. This Harry called the ‘‘ buzzer. ”
Through two holes in the paper was drawn a horse-
hair, which at the other end was looped around a stick.

Harry took his stand in the middle of the room,
touched the tip of the stick to his lips, and then rapidly
whirled the implement through the air. The hair
straightened out, the buzzer revolved, the loop tightened
upon and moved around the stick, and amidst the laugh-
ter and plaudits of our company; the room was filled
with a shrill, quivering, rattling noise:

“6 Or-reck ! Cr-r-eck ! cryee-ee-ee-e-e-ick-i-i-ii-ii-ce-ee-
eck |?

The sound thus produced was an admirable imitation
of the cicada’s note, and Harry’s illustration was
warmly applauded as a great success.

‘¢Now,’’ said Abby, ‘‘you must explain for us the
philosophy of Harry’s toy. How does it make this
noise ?”?

‘The principle is a very simple one. The horse-hair
loop rasps against the stick as it is twirled around, the
vibrations thus produced are carried along the hair to
the stiff paper, which acts as a sounding-board to them,
The tube or little box serves as a resonator, to increase
the intensity of the tone. The notes, of course, are
varied according to the velocity of the ‘buzzer.’ The
toy may be made with a spool, the hole through which
is sufficient to make a good resonator.”’

The Doctor had followed Harry’s movements with

318 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

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FIG. 1U3.—THE MUSIC OF BOYHOOD, A REMINISCENCE : ** WATCH-
ING LHE HOSTS OF INSECTS CREEP OUT OF THE GROUND.”’

unusual interest: There was a pleasant, very pleasant
smile upon his lips, and as he gazed into the embers of
the hickory-wood fire there was a far-away cast in the
éyes. He drummed upon the table with his fingers in
an abstracted way, and at last exclaimed :

** Well, well, well! I had dreamed myself quite into

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MUSIC-MAKING INSECTS. 319

boyhood once more. The old log schoolhouse seemed
to be rising there out of the ashes, and I could fancy
myself standing among the playmates and companions
of three-score years ago—alas ! few of them remain now
in the flesh !—whirling my toy ‘locust,’ and watching
the hosts of insects creep out of the ground and emerge
from the cracked shells which we gathered in handfulls
from the trees, among whose branches noisy males were
rolling their rattling drums! (Fig. 103.) Sixty years!
Has it been so long ago? How vividly this little toy’s
familiar music has revived the memories of those days.
Ah !—But excuse me, friends, for obtruding these re-
collections upon you. Really, I was carried away for
the moment !”

He bowed several times in a gentle and deprecating
way toward the circle, but amid the radiance that
glowed upon his face, I could see two round tears
“twinkling through his eyelids. Dear good man! Alas,
he, too, since then, has joined the playmates of those
early days in

*¢ The innumerable caravan which moves

To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halis of death,’?

CHAPTER XVIL
“SERMONS IN _ANTS..

On Sunday morning we wershiped in the ‘ Blue
Church.’’? Doctor Goodman preached to a little com-
pany of the country-folk a sermon whose character was
well described by a plain old Scotchman whom I over-
heard as the congregation was retiring: ‘‘ Ah, that was
one o’ the comfortin’ an’ helpfu’ sort !”’

I had observed, during one of my summers at Marple,
that the Doctor delivered his sermons, which he read
quite closely but with remarkable earnestness and force,
from manuscripts of a uniform number of pages, bound
up like a school copy-book.

‘‘ Why do I do this ?”’ he said, laughingly, in answer
to my question. ‘* Well, the truth is, I find myself
compelled to put a bridle upon my lips. As I crew
older, I noticed that I was inclined to prolong my ser-
mons to a wearisome length. Itherefore took to read-
ing; and in order to keep within due bounds I made
trial of the exact number of pages required to occupy
the half hour. J then had a lot of these ‘‘ copy-books ”’
made, each containing that trial number of pages.
Now when I have filled my book I stop work, and go

into my pulpit quite assured that I will not trespass
320

ee SERM ONS IN’’—ANTS. 321

upon my people’s patience. Isn’t that a pretty good
device to keep a garrulous old parson within bounds ?”

The hearty laugh with which the Doctor put the ques-
tion showed how much he enjoyed the trick by which
he had flanked the infirmities of gathering years, and
held the interest of his auditors. A wise winner of souls
was he! |

But on this occasion the ‘‘copy-book’’ was left at
home, and in simple words, delivered with quiet ear-
nestness and a tenderness that touched all and melted
many hearts, he held up to the people the great love of
the All-Father. The text was, ‘‘ Yea, I have loved
thee with an everlasting love.’’ When it was announced,
the Calvanists in the congregation nudged each other,
and with significant nods of the head and brightened
eyes intimated that they expected a sermon upon
‘* Electing Love,’’ and heartily approved it. The Ar-
minians, on the other hand, for the congregation was a
mixed one, bristled up, set their faces with a pugnacious
cast, and looked at the preacher with the fixed, hard
gaze of those who mean to hold fast their own opinions -
against all comers.

As the sermon advanced these countenances changed ;
lines of elation and approval, of combativeness and
dissent alike faded out, and the faces upturned toward
the pulpit wore a common look (varying with the points,
of the discourse) of interest, assent, hope, religious joy.

One might, perhaps, have found the Doctor’s theo-
logical bent by slight logical soundings; but it did not
so lie upon the surface as to mar the satisfaction of any

822 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

auditor. The Eternity and Infinity of Divine Love—
that was his theme. Man pre-existant in the loving
thought of God throughout the everlasting past ; man
surrounded by the loving care of God in the present ;
man throughout the everlasting future, immortal in the
rest of God ; man’s Redeemer, the highest commenda-
tion of the divine love—these are great thoughts, but
simply presented, with quaint and apt illustration, they
were not beyond the conception of the humblest mill-
hand in the meeting.

The morning sermon was a happy preparation for the
afternoon service, which, as the Doctor announced, was
especially for the young people, aithough adults were
also invited. He well knew that grown-up folk enjoy
and profit by such services quite as much as their
juniors. They drink in greedily addresses made to the
young which they would have resented highly if made
to themselves. What a curious compound human
nature is !

At three o’clock of the afternoon the approaches to

‘the church were lively with little troops of children,
whose bright dresses showed against the green meadows
as they came across lots. Farmers came in their bug-
gies, germantowns and farm-wagons, until the cozy
horse-sheds in ,the rear of the edifice were full, and
horses had to be unhooked and hitched to the wheels of
vehicles halted here and there over the yard.

Many of these comers were casual attendants, having
various places of worship scattered throughout the
country-side, but had gathered to the ‘‘ Doctor’s appoint-

a

“ SERMONS IN”—ANTS. 323

ment,’’ as is the goodly fashion of our rural parts,
without respect of religious preference. Even the
Friends, who had held their morning worship in the old
Springfield Meeting-house, sent a fair deiegation, al-
though some were still of too tender conscience to wait
upon the preaching of a ‘‘hireling minister”? Among
these was Aunt Hannah; but it cost the good woman
a sore struggle to stay at home, be it said to her credit.
Penn Townes, however, was. not prevented by such
scruples from stopping his smart open buggy at the old
farm-gate and driving Abby Bradford to the meeting. |

The regular attendanis at the Blue Church were the
teachers and the children of the Sunday-school. The
latter were gathered chiefly from the families of the oper-
atives ina woolen-mill that stood in an adjacent valley,
and a fine paper-mill that occupies a romantic site on
the banks of Crum Creek. A few kind and Christian
hearts had been moved with pity over these scattered
sheep of the Good Shepherd, and had organized for
them a Sabbath-school, which has been maintained.
often under sore difficulties, for a number of years, A
part of the good Doctor’s missionary work was to look
after this school, which, however, was strictly a
“Union” school, without any denominational bias or
connection whatever.

The building in which this assemblage was held is
worthy of brief notice. It was erected by one of the
numerous descendaats of Jane Townes, and set apart for-
ever to the worship of the Almighty without cost or let
to any of whatever denomination, with one important

#

. “ SHRMONS IN”—ANTS. 325

exception. Just in front of the pulpit hangs a framed
card on which the patron’s wish is printed, with this
proviso: that no one who denies the proper divinity of
our Lord Jesus Christ or the doctrine of the Atone-
ment shall ever be permitted to preach in the place.
The house was built at the time when the conflict was

at its height that divided the Society of Friends into

the so-called ‘‘Orthodox’’ and ‘“* Hicksite’’ camps.
The feelings awakened by that controversy are crystal-
ized in this proviso, and the ‘‘ Townes Free Church”? is
free only to orthodox preachers. However, as there are
very few persons of a different religious bent in the
whole country-side, the prohibition has not proved of
much practical disadvantage.

The house is built of a blue limestone which, in
spite of the ill-fitting coat of whitewash that now
covers it, shows plainly enough the reason for its popu-
lar name, ‘“‘ The Blue Church.”’ It is a plain rectan-
gular edifice, with a pitched roof, without spire or
belfry. There is a door at either cable, over one of
which is placed a rude water-shed. A plain porch
covers the front door, which is shaded by a horse-
chestnut, upon whose lower branches hangs a hornet’s
nest.

On either side of the door is a marble tombstone.
In the north tomb repose the ashes of the venerable
builder of the church. A plain slab rests upon low’
marble walls, and bears the name, age, and following
inscription: ‘‘ Where he was born, there he lived and

died. An honest man and a useful citizen.’’ There is

326 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

added the familiar passage from Job: ‘‘I know that my
Redeemer liveth.”’

A fine large willow tree stands in front, and over
hangs this grave. The tomb on the opposite side is a
slab raised upon six marble pillars, and bears the name
of a favorite cousin of the patron. ‘Those tombs serve
as seats for the rustic congregation while waiting for
the commencement of service, and tramps who camp of
summer nights in the horse-sheds play cards upon them
in the moonlight. The entrance to the church is from
the Baltimore Pike by a large wooden gate hung in the
stone wall that encloses two sides of the lot, One cor-
ner of the churchyard is devoted to burial purposes.
Here stands another large weeping-willow, and tall
bushes of osage orange and sumach overshadow the
wall. Short mounds of buried children fill the space,
though larger graves show where the ‘‘ rude forefathers
of the hamlet sleep.’? In the rank grass and among
the vines that here creep over the ground and swathe
the graves dwell undisturbed hosts of insects, especially
crickets and grasshoppers. (Fig. 105.) Among these
the great green grasshopper abounds one of the noisiest
of our musical insects, and day and night alike his
shrilling is heard among the graves, making this rural
‘*God’s-acre’’ a very garden of insect song.

The plain stone building is a pretty object, standing
in its two-acre field, embowered among trees. Just
across the meadow is a farm, once a country seat of an
eminent president of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Ad-
joining that, the cupola of ‘‘Shady-bank,’? a fine

J

a

“SERMONS IN’ —AN! TS. 827

if ‘eg g
"WWE

ff Zee Digg ed
Or ui (ond. R» Ze

$ pf :
bie AY Tpone Ure Sl Wy, We Ne din} fs a es 2 ce
5 f ‘G1, of we .
E Ls i Uy ie 417s L5G x
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Fig. 105.—THE GRASSHOPPER’S DIRGE AMONG THE GRAVES.

- country home, rises above the tops of a noble grove of
trees.

Inside, the building is exceedingly plain. It is fash-
ioned after the manner of a Quaker meeting-house, hav-
ing a ‘‘ gallery,”’ or long rows of elevated seats along the
middle, opposite the door. A pulpit is arranged at the

central part of the gallery, beneath which is a chaneel-
like space, where stand a reed organ and a superintend-
ent’s desk. Comfortable sofa-benches, with reversible |
backs, are ranged in front and on either side of the
pulpit. In front of the chancel stands a large cannon

328 TENANTS OF AN CLD FARM.

stove, whose long pipe penetrates the ceiling. The
walls are unadorned, and the whole interior is plain
enough to suit the severest taste.

It was well ornamented, however, on that day, for as
we entered, bright faces were turned toward us from
every seat and aisle; even the door spaces were
crowded, and anxious eyes peered in from groups that
stood in the churchyard outside. In the ‘‘ gallery,” at
one side, stood a tall easel, on which was placed a pack-
age of large white card-boards.

This addition to the usual furniture of the place had
excited much curiosity among the audience—young and
old. Indeed, the curiosity had begun earlier in the
day, among the family at the Old Farm ; for, as Hugh
lifted the mysterious parcels into the farm-wagon,
among the chairs on which his family were seated, there
were many wonderings over them.

‘Wat on yarth is de Doctor gwain to do aaa dem
sings ?’? asked Dan, who was perched on the driver’s
seat,-and faced ‘quite about to watch Hugh’s proceed-
ings. ‘*‘ Whew! dat now,’’ as the heavy packet of
card-board was lifted in, ‘‘ ’pears ’s dough it mought be
Moses’ Table ob de Law. But as fer dat,’’ looking at
the easel, *‘ 1. can’t make nuffin out on ’t. Dat ’s w’at
de Misstis had her picter ob de Wirgin Mary and de
baby Jesus on—her ’Donna, she calls hit. But Massa
sakes ! de ole Doctor ’s down on ’Donnas an images an
all sech wanities in de house ob de Lord! He haint
gwain to fall down befo’ no sech golden calf, is he ?”’

Abby, too, was. on the. qui vive; but if the Mistress

“ SERMONS IN”?—ANTS. 329

guessed the Doctor’s purpose, she kept her own coun-
sel, and put off the inquisitive Schoolma’am with the
remark that neither the Doctor nor her husband had
taken her into confidence.

The dominie’s little secret was soon disclosed. When
several songs had been sung by the children, he rose to
make his address. After a few sentences of kindly
commendation, he said :

‘* And now, my dear young friends, I have prepared
for you an especial treat. You have often heard my
voice telling you of the goodness and wisdom of our
God. I shall let another speak for me to-day—a dear
friend, whom, I am sure, you will be glad to hear.”’

In the brief pause that followed many eyes roved up
and down the front benches in quest of some known
minister or public speaker who might undertake such a
€uty. It was very plain upon the faces before me that
the matter was yet wholly in doubt.

‘*Who could it be ?”? whispered a farmer’s wife at
my side, as she plucked a clove-seed from a small store
stowed in the finger of a glove, and bit off the end.

No one ventured an opinion, and the Doctor con-
tinued: ‘‘ One of the greatest of English poets has said
that we may find

tent books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in everything.’

‘“*T believe that thoroughly. The Bible is a book of
Nature. The inspired writers, through whom the Holy
Spirit spoke, were in full sympathy with the world of

330 ‘TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

created things around them. Birds, beasts, flowers,

trees, mountains, brooks, stars, moon and sun, clouds,

rain and snow, waving crops of gathered grain, all were
seen by them with interest and pleasure, and made to
speak for them some truth or lesson of daily life.
Well, if all these things have in them a sacred thought
for us, shouldn’t we try to find out what that thought
is? LThave often taught you out of this Revelation of
Inspiration ’’?—and he laid his hand upon the Bible ; “T
have asked another to teach you this afternoon out of
the Revelation of Creation. If it be true that we may
find ‘sermons in stones,’ I think it is equally sure that
we may find sermons in insects. TI have therefore great
pleasure in introducing to you my very dear friend, Mr.
Fielding Mayfield.”’

There! the Doctor’s secret was out. Yes, I had at
last consented, after much hesitation, to talk to the
young people about some of the Bible insects. All
other difficulties being removed, the Doctor had over-
come my scruples as a layman against seeming to con-
duct a religious service by declaring that he was to be
and would be the officiating clergyman, and that I
surely might, at his appointment and request, address
the children.» It was my own suggestion that the mat-
ter be kept secret, for I wished thus to avoid the attend-
ance of such curious people as might have been attracted
simply by the unusual nature of the address.

The announcement was followed by a buzz of whis-
pered wonder and expectation. As I sat opposite some
of the members of the old-farm family, I could note

FIG. 106.—AGRICULTURAL ANTS ENGAGED IN CUTTING

GRASS.

331

332 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

the effect upon them. The Mistress flushed, turned pate,
then flushed again, and I caught the light of a tear
twinkling in her eye ere sie dropped her face upon her
fan. Abby started as though struck, looked at me,
then at the Mistress on one side, then at Penn Townes
on the other, clasped her hands—I thought at first she
meant to clap them—drew her lips under her teeth as
though to suppress an audible utterance cf surprise,
and at last a radiant smile broke over her glowing face.
Old Dan sat on the corner of a bench before the stove,
bowed over on his arms and rocking his body te and
fro. As the Doctor spoke my name he sat bolt upright,

dropped his broad palms with a loud smack upon his

knees, rolled his eyes to their full rotundity, pursed up

his thick lips. and blew through them till he fairly
whistled. As I rose to go into the callery T heard him
SAy ina deep sotto voce:

‘*Bress de Lor’! Mars Mayfiel?! Well, dat takes
de cakes!”

THE LECTURE.

**Y am sure you are all surprised,’’ T began, “* to hear
my name spoken as one who shall address you to-day.
You cannot be more surprised than IT was when our
good friend the Doctor first asked me to occupy this
place. Ihave never before addressed a religious meet-
ing of any kind. Perhaps I speak this to my shame ;
but my duty has never seemed to lie in that direction,
and 1 mention it now simply to say that the whole re-

sponsibility of my appearance here on this holy day as

“ SHRMONS IN” —ANTS.. - 333

an instructor in sacred truths must be placed upon this
good man who is to-day our bishop.

** Some of you, perhaps, have heard that many years
ago I gave a large part of my time to the study of in-
sects—those little creatures who are popularly known
among us as ‘bugs.’? I am sorry that people do not
speak more correctly in this matter. There are indeed
some insects who are properly called by that name ;
but all insects are not bugs, indeed a very small
proportion of them belong to that group. These
favorite studies of mine have led Dr. Goodman to ask
me to speak about the insects of the Bible.

‘““Among those which the Good Book mentions is
the ant Ihave known city children who never saw an
ant, or at least had no notion at all what that insect
looks like—in fact, couldn’t tell an ant from a grass-
hopper. But among these country children before me
I am sure that there is not a single one who doesn’t
know just how an ant looks. However, I will venture
to show you a picture of one.’’ (Fig. 106.)

T turned the outer card upon the easel, and amid
many half-suppressed ‘‘Oh’s!’’ exhibited a colored
figure. This, by-the-way, was one of a series of draw-
ings which'l had prepared at one time for a course of
‘lectures. They: had received a resurrection from the
store room of my city business place where they had
Jong been buried amid sundry rubbish, and were for-
warded to me by express when the Doctor’s request
gave occasion for their use.

‘** These figures show two ants known as the Agricul-

“ SERMONS. IN °—ANTS. 835

tural Ant of Texas, oftener called by the people of that
State the ‘Stinging Ant,’ because its sting is as severe
as a hornet’s. They are cutting down a blade of grass.
One has laid his sharp jaws at the very root of the
plant, while the other appears to be swaying down the
leaf in order to increase the effect of the cui. If this
is done on purpose, as it seemed to me when I drew it,
the ants are working on the same principle that you do
when in early autumn you go out with a hatchet to
clear away the rank growth of vines along the roadside
and fences.

**The next picture will show you the object which
these little workers have in view. (Fig. 107.) They are
making a clearing, as I have seen pioneers do in Western
States when they entered the great forest and began to
hew down the trees. Many years ago all this beautiful
country around us was covered with a dense forest, and
when our forefathers came they chopped away the
trees and made clearings for their houses and fields.
Now, our Agricultural Ants like to have a clear space
or yard around their doors, and here they are cutting
down the ‘“‘trees,’’ as these grass stalks must seem to
them. You notice that these clearings differ in shape
. from our yards and fields, for they are circles or elipses,
and are always.made as you see them here. It is sur-
prising to note what vigor the little pioneers have in
keeping their yards clean. The weeds and grasses grow
very rank in the rich soil and warm sun of Texas, and
sometimes when pushing my way through them I have

come across these circular clearings surrounded on ali

ma clare een MiNe

FIG. 108: —ANT CLEARING IN A WEED FOREST.

«

‘SERMONS IN”’—ANTS. 337

sides by the weedy jungle, and not a scrap of vegeta-
tion of any kind upon them. MHere is one of these
jungle-nests. (Fig. 108.)

“‘' The door or gate of the nest is in the center of the
yard. It is a single, or sometimes a double, opening,
which leads down into the ground, where are a series
of rooms and galleries that I shall presently describe.
Long roads, usually three or four in number, and occa-
sionally as many as seven, lead from the yard into the
surrounding erass. They vary in length from forty feet
or less to three hundred, and are kept smooth and
clean. Indeed, our farmers would do well to take pat-
tern after these wise little fellows in the matter of
road-building and repairing, as well as in other things,
You see these roads in the pictures, gradually narrow-
ing as they run out into the grass. These are not the
only ants that have the habit of road-building. We
have ants in our own State who have great skill in that
line of public industry; and here is a pretty under-
grade highway, made at Rockland, in Fairmount Park,
by a large colony of ants dwelling there. (Fig. 109.)
You see how daintily the roads are bowered by avenues
of grass, moss, and wild-flowers. Having told you
this much, I will now show you what all this has to
do with our Sabbath lessons. How many of you have
Bibles ?”

The answer to this question quite startled me. From
every part of the room—to the right and left of me,
in front of the desk, and even from the chancel-space
where the children were crowded directly beneath my

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“SHRMONS IN”’—ANTS. Bike

face—more than a hundred hands shot up, and as
many bibles of various sizes and styles were held aloft.
I suppose my surprise was shown upon my face; the
audience were infected by the speaker’s attitude, and
looked on silently at the strange scene. The children’s
faces were wreathed with smiles ; the superintendent
looked up from his seat with a well-pleased counten-
ance, and broke the stillness with the explanation :

** We have a ‘show of Bibles’ every Sunday, sir. It
is one of our ways of teaching the children to own and
use their own Bibles.”’

** Many thanks,’’ I said, “for this beautiful. lesson.
It is a new sight to me, and came as a great surprise.
I never thought to have such an answer to my ques-
tion. I shall not need to ask this school again, how
many have Bibles? Now let us see what these Bibles
have to say about ants ?

‘Turn to the sixth chapter of Proverbs.’’

There was a rustling of leaves, like the moving of
wind through the tree-tops, as the young hands turned
over the pages of the Sacred Book. The sound gradu-
ally died away, as one after another the children found
the place, until all was still.

‘* Now, please, read together the 6th, 7th and 8th
verses. The Doctor will lead you.”’

The old clergyman arose, and the scholars, well used
to reading in concert, read with him, as with one voice,
the following words :

‘*Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways,
and be wise: which, having no guide, overseer, or

340 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth
her food in the harvest.’

‘Very good; turn again to the thirtieth chapter
of Proverbs, and read the 24th and 25th verses.”

The sound of fluttering leaves once more filled the
house, and then the school read these words :

‘*There be four things which are little upon the
earth, but they are exceeding wise. The ants are a
people not strong, yet they prepare their meat in sum-
MMe eee

“You thus see,’’? I resumed, “‘that the wise man
who wrote the Proverbs believed that the ants of
Palestine had a habit of storing up seeds of grain dur-
ing the harvest time. No one appears to have disputed
this until about one hundred years ago, when an Eng-
lish naturalist, Mr. Gould, who was also a clergyman,
discovered that the ants of his country were not har-

vesters. Other naturalists came to the same conclu-

sion about the ants of other parts of Europe, and by-

and-by it came to be the prevailing opinion among
scientific people that no harvesting-ants existed. They
said that Solomon, Virgil, Homer, and all the ancient
writers who spoke of such insects, were in error; in
fact had mistaken the eggs or cocoons that ants are
often seen carrying, for grains of wheat, which they
somewhat resemble. ”’

‘‘Well, in the course of time, a gentleman living in
Texas wrote up to our Philadelphia Academy of Sciences
that there was a harvesting-ant in that State! The

account was not generally believed among naturalists,

“SHRMONS IN”—ANTS. | 341

and I resolved to go down to that country and see for
myself. I have already told you something of what I
saw, and I will now go on with my story.

‘““T pitched my camp on the hills of Barton Creek, be-
yond Austin, the State capital, and sat down to watch
beside one of these nests which I have shown you.
Presently I saw an ant come up out of the gate, carry-
ing in its jaws something which it dragged across the
yard, and dumped upon a heap of similar objects, lying
in the grass at one side. I took up some of these, and
found them to be the husks of a sort of grass known
as ant-rice, or needle-grass. That was proof number
one.

“* Next, I noticed that the ant-workers were continu-
ally running along the roads, across the yard, and
disappearing through the gate with some kind of seed,
which they bore in their stout mandibles or jaws. I
tapped several of these porters on the back, in order to
make them drop their burdens, which I then examined,
and found to be whole seeds of the ant-rice. That was
proof number two—the ants were actually carrying the
grain into their nests.

‘**Once more, I saw that workers were continually
leaving the gate and traveling along the roads outward
toward the grass. I stooped down upon hands and knees
to follow one of these. Off it went at a lively pace, fur-
ther and further, until the roadway began to narrow
into a thin line, when it darted off to one side, into the
thick: grass. It kept me on close watch to keep the
busy insect in sight. It twisted back and forth, around

’

B42 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

and around among the grass stalks, now and then stop-
ping to put its jaws upon objects lying upon the eround
which I soon discovered to be fallen seeds. At last the
fastidious creature found one that suited her. She
turned this way and that, until it appeared to be bal-
anced to her mind, then wheeled about, and started
toward home.

‘“What a time she had with that seed! All sorts
of little obstacles lay in her path—little to us, that is,
but great to her. There were blades of grass bent
down to the ground; there were sticks, stocks and
stones lying in the path; there were close-growing
tufts of grass like small thickets in the way. These
were to be flanked, or climbed over, or pushed through,
and right nobly the little carrier did her task. Now
she went straight up and forward ; now she backed to
this side, dragging her burden along ; now she sidled
around the obstacle ; now she plunged into a hole, and
after a moment’s rallying bravely mounted the wall and
went on her way. So she journeyed, winding her
laborious path through the grass-forest of her harvest
field until she reached the road. Then, conscious that
her way was clear, she broke into a smart trot, and
made straight headway for her nest, and soon disap-
peared within the gate. The burden which she bore
was a seed of ant-rice, and that was proof number
three that this ant, at least, as Solomon said, ‘ pro-
videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food
in the harvest.’

‘¢ My next work was to explore the inside of the nest,

“SERMONS IN ’*’—ANTS. 043

FIG. 110.—GRANARIES SHOWING SEEDS AND STORES.

or formicary, as it is called. This was no slight task,
for several reasons. The yards are very wide, some of
tlem fifteen feet in diameter, more than half as wide as
this house. They are made in a stiff, tough earth
which is difficult to dig; moreover, the ants carry a
powerful weapon in the shape of a sting, which they ply
with great fierceness when their nests are disturbed ;
and I could not blame them for that, for there are few
creatures on earth who will not defend their own home.
I had, therefore, to hire a little army of men to help in
the digging and to fight off the angry insects that
swarmed forth to attack us. _1 was severely stung a
number of times, but persevered until I had satisfied
myself that quantities of seeds were stored within the
formicary. Some of those near the top were yet coy-

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344

Ses

“SHRMONS IN” —ANTS. B45

ered with husks, others further down were shelled, so
that I could account for the heaps of husks which were
placed around the margin of the yard.

“The seeds were stored in small caverns or pockets
several inches long and about an inch high. Some
were circular, others semi-circular in shape. Here is a
view of a group of these granaries (Fig. 110.) You are
looking down from the yard into them, remeinber, and
of course the roof has been omitted frem the picture
to show you the stores of grain garnered within. Here

then was proof number four—the ants do store away

_the ant-rice and other seeds, for I found more than one

kind within their little store-nouses and barns.

_** But what do they do with these seeds? Are they
really provided as ‘meat’ and gathered for ‘ food,’ as
the inspired writer says? I had no doubt about that

myself; but I wanted to prove it beyond question. Of

‘course I could not creep down into the nest and live

there long enough to see the insects at their meals ; nor
would they come out-of-doors and have an emmet pic-
nic in the open just to show me how they did. What,
then, should Ido? I did this: I had a large number
of the ants shipped to me from Texas, built for them
small artificial formicaries in. my library, and kept
them during an entire winter under observation. JT
saw many interesting and cunning habits, which I have
not time to relate to you, but among these was their
food-habit. I observed that they did eat the seeds
which I had taken from their nests, as well as other

grains. such as oats. They lapped up the oily substance
22

346 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

U ERS

tie Yj FW y
ZA WAAR (\ D\,
ik <<
Ors ye

FIG. 112.—INTERIOR PLAN OF STORE-
ROOMS AND GALLERIES.

from the nut-like
seeds, just as a cat
does milk, and licked
off : the starchy
grains, as; To have
seen children lick :
candy-stick. Thus
was added the last
link to the chain of
proof that our
Texas Agriculturals
are real harvesting-
ants.

°f These ~ ares mot

the only harvesters.. It was not hard to discover that
two species with the same habit live in the Holy Land,
where Solomon dwelt. and wrote, and also in coun-
tries where Homer and Virgil lived, who also had told

about the harvesting-ants. You may be very sure,

FIG. 113.—OPEN GRANARY OF HARVESTING-ANT.

“SHRMONS IN’’—ANTS. 347

FIG. 114.—OCcCIDENT-ANT GATHERING SUNFLOWER SEED.

therefore, that these ancient writers made no mistake,
and that the naturalists who voted them in error were
“wrong themselves.

“We have other harvesting-ants in our own land.
Two of the most common objects that attract the eye
of a traveler upon the Great American Plains are the
villages of the Prairie-dogs and the cone-shaped mounds
of the Occident-ant. Here is one of these (ities 1)
They are covered with gravel, which the ants bring up
from beneath, having dug them out in making their
granaries and boring out pipe-like roads or galleries
that unite them. The granaries are ranged in stories
one. above another, and I traced them as far as eight
feet beneath the surface. This figure (Fig. 112) shows
@n interior plan of one of these nests, as it was.seen

t

348 _ LENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

FIG. 115.—GRANARIES OF THE PENNSYLVANIA HARVESTER.

after one side had been dug away, and this (Fig. 113) is
one of the granaries cut out of the soil in which it was
dug. These letters, R, R, (Fig. 112) show store-rooms or
eranaries in which quantities of seeds were placed, and
these G, G, are galleries that connect them. TI saw
some of these Occident Ants gathering wild sunflower

seeds in the Garden-of-the-gods, and our next picture

-shows her mounted upon the flower and tugging away

at a seed with all her might. (Fig. 114.)

‘‘ Indeed, we need not go to Texas or Colorado or
Florida to find American harvesting-ants. Right here
in our own neighborhood, in the field in which this
church stands, in the orchard-walk at Shadybank over
the way, and in various places around the Old Farm
where I live, there is a little black ant, the Pennsylvania
Harvester (Pheidole pilifer, Rogers), who harvests seed,

and:here is a drawing of two of its granaries (Hig. 115),

‘¢SHRUMONS IN’’—ANTS. 349

One of the worker-castes is a funny-looking creature,
having a very large head. It is known as the ‘Soldier,’
while the other forms are called ‘ workers.’

THE LESSONS.

*¢ And now, my children, having told you something
about that habit which the good Book refers to, let me
point you to the lessons which it is intended to teach.
The first is a lesson of Honest Industry... Turn once
more to Proverbs, Chapter xxx, and take up the Scrip-
ture at the verse where we stopped before—the 9th.
Read, now, the 9th, 10th and 11th verses:

*¢¢How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? When
wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? Yeta little sleep, a
little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep! So
shall thy poverty come as one that traveleth, and thy
want as an armed man.”’

“That is the lesson. If you love idleness and sleep,
if you grow up to be sluggards, poverty and want will
sweep down fast upon you like a swift traveler, and
will conquer and destroy you like an enemy in arms.
It is the hand of the diligent that shall wax rich.
Learn to work honestly and lovingly, not simply to get
your task done and pocket the pay for it, but as one
who-loves his business, and is determined to do his
whole duty to his employer. Drive every nail, spin
-every thread, turn every furrow, sweep every room,
dust every chair, wash every dish as in the sight of One
who sees the slightest act and will try all your work,
Quaint George Herbert has well sung:

300 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws
Makes that and the action fine.’’

The lazy person is always an unfortunate person,
usually an unhappy and often a wicked one. The poet
Spencer, in his ‘ Faerie Queene,’ has well called ‘Sluggish
Idlenesse the Nourse of Sinne.’

‘“There is another lesson which I may venture to
refer to, though I must ask the religious leader at my
side to enlarge upon it. It is a-lesson of forethought
of that Future which hes before all souls. Old age,
misfortune, and death hasten upon man like the Winter
of the year. Would you lay up in Heaven a store of
good deeds—a treasure which cannot be stolen and will
not decay ? Begin now! ‘Remember now thy Creator
in the days of thy youth, ere the evil days come.’ This
is the harvest time for you—for us all. Use it to form
a character that shall stand the test of an Eternal
Judge, and to-do deeds of goodness, righteousness,
purity, truthfulness, honor, which shall bless not only
yourselves but the generdtion in which you live. A
~recent author thus begins his book: ‘Some things God
gives often, some he gives but once. The seasons come
and go and the flowers change with the months, but
youth comes twice to none.’ If the temptation should
come to you to defer to another, and yet further, and
yet more distant day, the duty of laying up store of
spiritual wealth—noble character, kindly deeds and im-
mortal Hope through the Saviour of all, then remem-

ber the teaching of our humble insect friends. ‘Go to

‘“ SHRUONS IN’’—ANTS. 301

the ant, thou sluggard! Consider her ways, and be
wise.’ ”

The Doctor followed with apt and tender words, the
children sang a familiar refrain, and after prayer the
meeting was dismissed.

Was my address a success ? I wondered and greatiy
feared.

But the Doctor took my hand, and pressing it warmly,
looked into my face with his honest, kindly eyes, and
said: ‘‘ Well done! you have taught us all to-day to
‘look from Nature up to Nature’s God.’ ”’

When we had reached home the Mistress came to-me
and said: ‘‘ It was a sweet surprise. I was never hap-
pier than this day when I saw my husband standing
with that holy man in the good work of helping those
poor children to attain a happier future both here and
hereafter.’

_ Thus I was comforted.

i

CHAPTER XVIIL
SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND.

WE were made happy by seeing the sleek sides of
Dr. Goodman’s old horse, ‘‘ Bob,’’ stop before our gate
on the Saturday afternoon preceding our next Conver-
sation. The dominie had promised to join us, if possi-
ble, in our concluding study of the natural history of
the Cicada, and tc contribute some notes upon its
mythology and ethnology. In consideration of this,
our Conversation was arranged to begin a little earlier,
so that I might return with the Doctor to the Manse
that night, and remain with him over the Sunday.
Aunt Hannah and Penn were promptly in their places,
so that our circle was complete.

‘The duration of life in many winged insects,’’ I

began, ‘‘is comparatively short, seldom exceeding two

or three weeks in extent, and in many is limited to the
same number of days, or hours. You need not be sur-
prised, therefore, if I tell you that the Cicada, or Har-
vest-fly, lives only a few weeks after its transforma-
tion.”’

‘‘ It always seemed very strange to me,’ said Aunt
Hannah, ‘‘ and sad, too, that such beautiful and perfect

creatures should be doomed to so brief a life. I remem-

bd

SEVENTEEN YEARS UND PR GROUND.” 303

_ber to have had this thought when I read in an agri-

cultural paper some time ago of the tribes of ephemeral
insects which are born, live merrily, grow old, and die
within the compass of twenty-four hours. That seemed
to me a great waste of Nature’s noble gifts, and I so
said in the presence of one of our ministers. I was
much surprised when at the meeting next First Day,
She was moved to refer to this in a beautiful address
upon the fleeting nature of our life, and the vanity of
making so much of it, instead of preparing for a higher
and nobler state of being.” |

“I am not surprised, Aunt Hannah,” I answered,
‘that you should have fallen into so common an error,
and your minister was not the first to use the same
as a text for moral lessons. The great Dr. Franklin
once published an essay, full of very instructive philo-
sophy, which he put as an address into the mouth of an

‘Ancient Ephemera,’ that had lived to the extreme old

age of four hundred and twenty minutes! Like your
good Friend’s remarks in the meeting, his moral
reflections are admirable, but his entomology is de-
fective.”

There are, indeed, several flies, known as May-
flies, or Ephemera that live but a very short time,
and a few of them only for ten or twelve hours, tn the
winged state. But the larvee of these very same flies
have lived in the water for nearly a year before they
left their native element and became denizens of the
air. Of course they are insects quite as truly when in
the larval as when in the imago state, and there is no

304 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.
basis of fact in the metaphor which measures their life
by a few hours.”’

‘Thee amazes me, friend Mayfield !” exclaimed
Aunt Hannah. ‘‘ Thee is proving & veritable icono-
clast with thy entomology. First thee has taken out of
our mouths our life-long associations with the locusts,
and now thee destroys utterly our notions about the
Kphemera. I am glad thee has spared the good
Friend’s lesson, at any rate.”’

‘*The destruction of ancient errors is not usually a
grateful task, Aunt Hannah, especially when they are
well imbedded in the minds of people. They become,
by-and-by, as sacred as truth, and any disturbance of
them pains and irritates like the return of healthy cir-
culation to a benumbed or frozen limb. However, as
there is no special interest or principle attacked in this
effort to bring in a true entomological nomenclature, I
hope that my friends will be sparing of their indigna-
tion.

‘* What I began to say is this—the Cicadas enjoy but
a few days of life in the winged state, but in the case of
the periodical species they are largely compensated by
a remarkable length of life in their wingless and grub-
like form. Seventeen years the one species, thirteen
years the other, live underneath the ground. I can
think of no parallel case within the whole range of
natural history. In view of this amazing longevity one
may well be sparing of sympathy with the winged mu-
sicians over the brevity of their days. |

** Let us trace their history from the deposit of the

SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 355

egos until the emerging of the winged form. The
abdominal part of the female Cicada, as you see, is
conical, and on the under side is a longitudinal channel
for the reception of the piercer. This organ is further
protected by four short grooved pieces fixed in the sides
of the channel. The piercer itself consists of three
parts in close contact with each other—namely, two
outer ones, grooved on the inside and enlarged at the
tips, which externally are beset with small teeth like a
saw; and a central spear-pointed borer which plays be-.
tween the other two. Thus this instrument has the
power and does the work beth of an awl and a double-
edged saw, or rather of two key-hole saws . cutting
opposite to each other.

‘* When the time has come for the female to lay her
eggs she selects a position near the tip of a twig. The
seventeen year Cicada has a great preference for the

‘oak, next to that probably the hickory, but oviposits in
almost every kind of deciduous tree, and even in herba-
ceous plants, and occasionally evergreens. I have
known Pruinosa to oviposit in a stem of golden-rod.

‘* Her method is this: She places her head upward,
that is, toward the terminal part of the twig, and with
her piercer saws a longitudinal furrow in the wood.
Then, with her ovipositor, she forces the eggs a little
distance down below the external opening. The eggs
are of a pearl white color, one-twelfth of an inch long,
and taper to an obtuse point at each end. When in
the act of cutting she clasps the branch on both sides

with her legs, and then, bending down the piercer at

306 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

an angle of about forty-five degrees, repeatedly thrusts
it obliquely into the bark and wood in the direction of
the fibres. At the same time she puts in motion the
lateral saws, and in this.way detaches little splinters
of the wood at one perforation. The hole is bored
obliquely to the pith, and is eradually enlarged by a
repetition of the same operation, until a fissure is
formed large enough to receive from ten to twenty eges.
The side-pieces of the piercer serve as a groove to con-
vey the eges into the nest, where they are deposited in
pairs, side by side, but separated from each other by a
portion of woody fibre, and they are implanted into the
limb somewhat obliquely, so that one end points up-
wards. When two eggs have been thus placed, the
insect withdraws the piercer for a moment, and then
inserts it again and drops two more eggs in a line with
the first, and repeats the operation until she has filled
the fissure from one end to another. Then she removes
to a little distance and begins to make another nest.’’
ches 18/65) ;

_“ How long does it take her to do this 2”? asked Penn.

‘She is about fifteen minutes in preparing a single
nest and filling it with eges.”’

‘* How many of these egg-nests does’ she have ?”’

‘*Tt is not unusual for her to make fifteen or twenty
fissures in the same limb; and one observer counted
fifty nests extending along in a line, each containing
fifteen or twenty eggs in two rows, and all of them
apparently the work of one insect. After one limb is

thus sufficiently stocked, the Cicada goes to another,

ADA.

IC

MOTHER C

—EGG-NESTS OF

116.

308 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

and passes from limb to limb, and from tree to tree, till
her store of four or five hundred eggs is exhausted.
At length she becomes so weak by her incessant labors
to provide for a succession of her kind, that she falters
and falls in attempting to fly, and soon dies.”’

‘¢ Poor thing !’? exclaimed the Mistress.

‘Well, I say that it’s a mighty lucky thing,’’ Hugh
remarked, ‘‘ that so many of them twigs do wither and
fall, and cause the eggs to die inside uv ’em. I reckon
ther wouldn’t be twigs enough to accommodate the
risin’ generations ef all them eges hatched out.”

‘* Harris says that after oviposition the female saws
the branch partly off below the eggs, so that the wind
may twist off the tip end containing the eggs and let it
fall to the ground. Certainly many of the punctured
twigs do break off and die, and in years of invasion the
oak forests often have a gloomy and disheveled ap-
pearance from the number of branch-tips partly twisted
off, and hanging with their dead leaves ready to fall.
But it is doubtful if this is the result of a set purpose
on the part of the mother Cicada, for a great majority
of the incised twigs remain green and recover from
their wounds. Indeed, it is probable that the eggs
seldom hatch in those twigs which break off and become
dry, and that’the moisture of the living branch is
necessary to the life and development of the egg. In
the healing of the punctured parts of the limb a knot
usually forms over each puncture.”’

‘* Doctor,’ said Abby, who had been examining the

little bundle of twigs by which I had illustrated my

SHVHNTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 359

descriptions, ‘‘can you tell us what. such destructive
creatures were made for ?”’

‘*That is a question, I fancy, that falls within the
province of the naturalist rather than the theologian,”’’
replied the Doctor, with a smile, wisely declining to
enter into a problem of that nature. .

But Aunt Hannah was not quite satisfied with that
view of the matter, and suggested her own opinion by
a series of questions: ‘‘ Does thee know, friend Abby,
why the ten plagues of Egypt were sent upon that |
land ? or why the palmer-worm and the locust and the
cavker-worm and the caterpillar were sent upon Israel
of old? Does not the prophet Joel suggest an answer
when he says, ‘‘ For the meat offering and the drink
offering is withholden from the house of your Lord ?”’

The Doctor, who was not proof against this challenge,
removed the spectacles from his eyes, and with a little
‘preparatory ‘‘ ahem !”’ turned to answer Aunt Hannah.
Fortunately we were brought back from this theologi-
cal digression and saved the impending discussion by a
bit of hard fact which Huch Bond interjected.

‘“ As to them loc—beg y ’r pardon, them Harvest-
flies, bein’ destructive creeters, I never jes’ see it, at all.
Some folks allers make a poweful fuss over ’em w’en
they come, and talk about the devourin’ up uv every
green thing, an’ so forth. But my exper’ence is that
ther bark ’s wuss ’n ther bite.

** Now, I never seed any leaves or other green things
eat up by locusts uv that sort. They does cut off a

power 0’ young shoots an’ sich, an’ sometimes, w’en

t

~~

360 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

io

they lights on a young fruit tree or saplin’ they kills

hit. But it don’t do much harm in ordinar’ fur to trim —

off the outer twigs uv trees. The trees make wood
ag’in, an er not much the wuss fur wear. Ther’s a
nation sight 0’ buzzin’, an’ ez Mr. Mayfield says, the
woods does hey a sort 0? rag-tag look, but it’s more in
sight an’ soun’ than in solid harm, I’m a thinkin’. In

fac’, ther ’s a good ’eal more noise ’n execution in an

army of harvest-flies, jes’ like an ole-fashioned militia

trainin’ sham battle.”

‘‘ That is very true,’’ I said, ‘‘ and I ’m much obliged
to you, Hugh, for saving me the trouble of saying it.
So you see, Miss Abby, that whatever general princi-
ple may lie beyond the problem that you started, it has

no basis of facts to rest upon in the case of the Cicada.

It is chiefly an example of an wn-scientific use of the
imagination, excited by that old and false name ‘ locusts.’
Shakespeare has said that ‘a rose by any other name
would smell as sweet ;’ but there is a great deal more
in a name than the. poet seems to have thought. To

uote the lancuage of one of my entomological friends
: => 5S ro) 3

suppose that roses’ were popularly called by the name.

of that well-known piant that spreads its broad leaves
along the wooded parts of our _Run—the ‘ skunk-cab-
bage ’—what lover would dare to present to his mistress
a bouquet composed of flowers bearing such an un-
savory appellation ? Or what lady, if she had such a
bouquet actually presented to her, would trust her nos-
trils within a foot of it ? Now, because we in America

haye chosen to call what are, properly speaking, ‘ Cica-

Ba resi
* eo ee ire
Pi <a ae

. “rn” ate

[be

eR oy ee

PR Oe ee ee ey a ee

5 ey a
ee” ee ee ey Se

Trude’ dee

SHVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. © 361

das,’ by the ominous name of ‘locusts,’ people have
thoughtlessly jumped at the conclusion that they must
have the same voracious appetite as the ‘locusts,’
whose dreadfully destructive habits are so well de-
scribed in Holy Scripture. However, this is aside
from our natural history, to which we had better return.

‘* The eggs of the harvest-fly hatch in about six weeks
after being deposited. The young insect when it bursts
the shell is one-sixteenth of an inch long: In form it is
somewhat grub-like, being longer in proportion than the |
parent insect. It is furnished with six legs, the first
pair of which are very large, shaped almost like lobster-
claws, and armed with strong spines beneath. On the
shoulders are little prominences in the place of wings,
and under the breast is a long beak for suction. The
little creatures, when liberated from the shell or fine
membrane which envelopes them after leaving the

“eggs, are quite lively, and their movements are as

oS”)
sprightly as ants. Now follows a very interesting act

of instinct. -There the wee bodies are, far up at the
top of the tree; but Nature has decreed them a. life
under ground. How do they get there ?”’

** W’y crawl down the tree,’’ excJaimed Harry.

‘No; that would, indeed, seem an easy way. But

‘many perils might lurk in that winding path along the

twigs, branches, and trunk. Nature has provided a
better way. The mother Cicada has fortunately lo-
eated her egg-nests near the tips of the outer limbs,
And now, moved by a law which none of us can pre-

sume t0 comprehend, the young insects run to the side
{ oO

362 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

of the twig and deliberately loosen their hold. Their

specific gravity isso small that they fall through the air
as sofily as a feather. On reaching the ground they
immediately bury themselves in the soil, burrowing by
means of their broad and strong fore-feet, which, like
those of the mole, are admirably adapted for digging.”’
(Pig Sits)

‘“This is wonderful !’’ exclaimed Aunt Hannah, lay-
ing down her knitting work. ‘*‘ Who would have thought
to find such wisdom in so insignificant a creature ?”’

‘* Wonderful, indeed !’’ added the Mistress, and Abby
echoed the note.

‘* But,’ queried the Doctor, ‘‘is it quite accurate to
think of such behaviour as you describe as the result of
wisdom in the young Cicadas ? Doesn’t this look like
a case of fore-ordination in Nature, which requires one
to postulate an Outside and Infinite Wisdom ?”’

‘Let me read you,’’ I responded, taking a volume
from the table, ‘‘ what the eminent naturalist, Dr. Har-
ris, says, an author to whom I am indebted for much of
the information here given. This is what he writes on
this point: ‘The instinct which impels them [the
young Cicadas] thus fearlessly to precipitate themselves
from the trees, from heights of which they can have
formed no conception, without any experience or
knowledge of the results of their adventurous leap, is
still more remarkable than that which carries a gosling
to the water as soon as it is hatched. In those actions
that are the result of foresight, of memory, or of ex-

perience, animals are controlled by their own reason ;

a Neer SS 5 2 eaueces
SSS SSS
— SES

—— rot — Fz
el es >
= Ais Se
Sore Nare

Fic. 117.—A LEAP FOR LIFE—THE CICADA UNDERGROUND.
3638

364 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

as, in those to which they are led by the use of their
ordinary senses, or by the indulgence of their common
appetites, they may be said to be governed by the laws
of their organization. But, in such as arise from spe-
cial and extraordinary instincts, we see the most strik-
ing proofs of that Creative Wisdom which has im-
planted in them an unerring guide, where reason, the
senses and the appetites would, fail to direct them. The
manner ‘of the young Cicada’s descent, so different from
that of other insects, and seeming to require a special
instinct to that end, would be considered incredible,
perhaps, if it had not been ascertained and repeatedly
confirmed by persons who have witnessed the proceed-
ing.” And now,” laying the book down, ‘‘ let us go on
with our history.”’

‘‘ During their descent into the earth, the Cicadas
seem to follow the roots of plants. They are found at-
tached to those which are most tender and succulent,
which they perforate with their beaks, thus imbibing
the vegetable juices, which constitute their sole nour-
ishment.’? (See Fig. 117.)

‘*Is not this an injury to the trees ?’? asked Penn.

‘Doubtless it often is ; and I am disposed to believe
that the chief injury done by the Harvest-fly is in this
stage and manner. Indeed, an examination of the roots
of a decaying fruit-tree has shown as the cause of dis-
ease a host of young Cicadas clinging to the roots with
their beaks piercing the bark so deep and firmly as to
keep them hanging for half an hour after removal from,

the earth.’

SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 365

‘‘ How far down do the Cicadas go?” asked Penn.
“LT have heard said that they burrow to an immense
distance—ten or twelve feet from the surface.”’

‘‘'The question is fairly answered by the fact that the
insects must live upon roots, which rarely descend very
deeply. Our common annual Cicada, Pruinosa, of
course lives in this condition for only a twelvemonth ;
but the young Septendecim spend seventeen years in
these dens and caves of the earth.’’ :

‘“What in the world do they do all that time ?”
asked Abby.

. ** A hard question,’’ I replied, .‘‘and one must. frame
an answer as much by fancy as by facts. At least we
may say that they burrow back and forth amid the
maze of roots, and drink long and deep from the streams
of savory sap, which they tap with their beaks. They
thrive and grow in size. They take no end of sleep.
Poubtless they greet each other in their silent way and
pass who knows what communications ? in the myste-
rious language of the mute children of the insect world.
Maybe they peep and mouse into the tunnels and caves
of worms, snails, and countless other creatures who
share with them these Plutonic abodes; and _per-
haps vary the monotony of life, like civilized man, by
wars of offense and defense. Shall I give further guess ?”’

‘‘No, no!’’ that is quite enough,’’? Abby laughingly
rejoined, ‘“‘to give one a fit’ of the blues at the very
thought. I have often had my ‘sympathies profoundly
moved over the dreary fate of my fellow-creatures wha
spend their life

366 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘ Down in a coal mine underneath the ground,
Digging dusky diamonds all the year round.’

‘* But here is a destiny whose intolerable dreariness,
even fora young bug, passes imagination, It paralyzes
one’s pity by its very magnitude. Dear, dear, what a
monotonous fate !”’ i ;

‘“ No doubt, Miss Abby, your sympathy would be
quite wasted upon our Cicada pupee, who are enough
like many of our own species to find a paradise in the
most monotonous round of unthinking and inactive ex-
istence. As the years roll on, the four small, scale-like
prominences on the Cicada’s backs, which represent
and actually contain their future wings, begin to swell.
The long period of pubation is nearly done. Indeed
life, at last, is nearly over, and it is to end in a brief
elory of sunlight, wings, love and music, There is a
strange stir in the thin blood of the insects that bids
them mount upward. They cut their way through the
soil by cylindrical passages, often very circuitous, the
sides of which are firmly cemented and varnished so as
to be waterproof. These burrows are about five-eighths
of an inch in diameter, are filled below with earthy
matter removed by the pupa in its progress. They can
be traced by the color and compactness of their con-
tents to the depth of from one to two feet, according to
the nature of the soil. The upper portion, to the ex-
tent of six or eight inches, is empty, and serves as a
habitation for the insect until the period for its exit
arrives. Here it remains during several days, ascend-
ing te the top of the hole in fine weather for the benefit

SEVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 36%

of warmth and air, and occasionally peeping forth, ap-
parently to reconnoitre, but descending again on the
occurrence of wet or cold weather.

‘‘The advent of hard rains sometimes develops the
ingenuity of the pupe in a remarkable way. On one
occasion, about the time of their first appearance in one
of our neighboring counties, there fell a series of heavy
rains. Evidently the expectant Cicadas were seriously
threatened with a fate like that of the Noachian world,
and so set themselves to build an ark of ROMIGey
floating retreat was beyond their powers, but they liter-
ally rose superior to the situation, by carrying their
burrows above the surface of the ground! Here isa
drawing of one of these finger-like turrets, showing
the exit hole from which the pupa escaped when the
waters had subsided. Here I draw & section view of
the turret, which shows the mode of operation. The
pellets of earth have been pushed up above the surface
to the height of from four to six inches, leaving in the
center a gallery about five-eighths of an inch in diame-
ter a continuation of the underground burrow. The
outside measurement is about one inch and a quarter.
The tube from which the drawing is made was a little
bent at the top, but many turrets were straight and
several instead of being single branched near the sur-
face from a main chamber below, and a pupa lodged in
each branch. You can see that this tube is a continua-
tion of the burrow, and that the pupa when disturbed
by the over-wet soil had only to mount to the top of its
tower and be safe. When the time for transformation

368

SEVENTEEN YHARS UNDER GROUND. 369

came, it backed down the tube and escaped. (Fig. 118.)
““We have come now to the last stage in the history,
of this remarkable insect. The period for its great
change has at length arrived. The seventeen years of
grubbing in the dark ground are over. The voice of
Nature is calling within with resistless power, ‘Come
up higher!’ The time appointed for escape is usually
the night. There would seem to be good reasons for
this, for a host of enemies await them, and at best a
multitude will perish. Different quadrupeds attack
them ; birds devour them ; cannibal insects, as dragon-
flies and soldier-bugs, make them their prey ; even ants
assail them with success, while hogs and poultry greed-
ily feast upon them.

‘* For several nights in succession the pup continue
to issue from the earth. Above fifteen hundred have
been found to arise beneath a single apple tree, and in
some places the whole surface of the soil has been cut
as full of holes as a honeycomb by the eager insects
breaking through their prison wall from their long con-
finement.”’

‘‘ At what time of year does this occur ?’’ Abbey
asked,

‘‘ The date of egress varies with the latitude. In the
South the pupze escape in February and March ; here
in Pennsylvania about the last of May, but in Massa-
chusetts not until the middle of June.”’

‘* But the yearly kind comes out later ’n that,” sug-
gested Hugh.

‘*“ Yes ; Pruinosa begins to appear with us about the

370 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

close of July, and for this reason has been called the
Dog-day Harvest-fly. After the egress they mount the
trunks of trees or other convenient object, and fasten
themselves securely by their claws. Then occurs that
change which most country-living people have watched
with wonder. After a brief rest the pupz begin to
cast off their amber-colored skins. These have become
hard and dry, and the work of emerging is not an easy
one.

‘* At last, after repeated exertions, the shell cracks,
a slit is made lengthwise along the back, through which
the cicada pushes its head and body. Next the wings
and legs are withdrawn in succession from their sepa-
rate cases. The pupa is an imago now; at last it is
free! It leaves its empty pupa-skin almost entire still
fastened to the tree, and crawling to a little distance
awaits the completion of its great change. At first
emergence the insect is wholly unfit for flight. It is in
a sort of border state of existence between its old earth
life and its future air life, and is fit for neither. The
wing-covers and wings are small and opaque, but, being
perfectly soft and flexible, they soon stretch out to their
full dimensions. The body is swollen to an unwieldy
bulk, but in the course of a few hours the superfluous
moisture has evaporated. The work of transformation
isended ; the creature is a perfect insect, with strength
to mount upon wing and fly. (Fig. 119.)

**Soon the rolling drums of the males are heard
sounding their love-call to their mates. In a fortnight .

the mother insect begins to lay her eggs, and in the

L AT LAST!

SHEL

119.—oUT oF THE

FIG.

372 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

space of six weeks the whole generation has sunk into
silence and death. This ends my story; and now,
Doctor, I yield theteacher’s chair to you.”

‘* My only difficulty in this case,’’? the Doctor began,
‘is an ‘embarrassment of riches,’ for the Cicadas figure
very freely in classic literature. They were especially
in favor among the Greeks, who regarded them as
sacred as the Egyptians did the Scarabaeus beetle.
Indeed the Egyptians also evidently held the Cicada
in reverence, for, in their hieroglyphics, a painted
figure of that insect represented a priest and holy
man, as well as a musician. Ihave been somewhat in
doubt whether, in my selections, I may not have con-
founded these insects with the grasshoppers; but I
think that in the following references the true Harvyest-
fly (Tettix in the Greek) is intended. Among the
Grecians the Cicada was especially sacred to the muse
of song, and its note bears the same name as the sound
of the harp. A Cicada sitting on a harp was the usual
emblem of the science of music. The origin of this
custom, according to Strabo, was this: Two rival
musicians, Eunomis of Locris, and Ariosto of Rhegium,
were alternately playing upon the harp in a musical
contest when Eunomis unfortunately snapped a string
of his instrument. The accident would certainly have
cost him the prize had not a Cicada, pitying the dis-
appointed musician, flown to him, and, perching on his
harp, supplied the place of the broken string with its
melodious voice. Thus it secured to him an easy
victory over his antagonist.”’

SHVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 372%

“That was very good, indeed, for Eunomis,’’ ex-
claimed Abby, ‘‘but did the Cicada have no pity for
poor Ariosto? It was partial dealing, I think, for a |
divine insect.”’

‘‘True enough, Miss Abby; but the gods of Greece
had their special favorites among the mortals, very
much like the occupants of the political Olympus in
these degenerate days. You mustn’t ask me to defend
the rather eccentric behaviour of the classic deities ; I
only tell the story as I find it.

‘The poets seem to have been as partial to the
Cicada as the gods, for its praise is sung by nearly every
Grecian bard from Homer and Hesiod to Anacreon and
Theocritus. Here, for example, is the way in which
the muse of Anacreon celebrates its virtues :

‘6 ¢ Happy creature! What below
Can more happy live than thou?
Seated on thy leafy throne,
Summer weaves thy verdant crown.
Sipping o’er the pearly lawn,
The fragrant nectar of the dawn,

Little tales thou lov’st to sing,
Tales of mirth—an insect king !

e e ° . e

Darling of the tuneful nine,
Phebus is thy sire divine ;
Phebus to thy note has given
Music from the spheres of, heaven.’

*¢'You can readily see from this how the highest com-
mendation of a singer was to excel the Cicada in song.
Naturally; the metaphor was carried into the realm of
oratory, so that the music of Plato’s eloquence was

at4 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

only comparable to the voice of this insect. Homer,
in his Iliad, compared his good orators to the Cicadas,
‘which, in the woods, sitting on a tree, sent forth a
delicate voice.’

‘¢ However, the complimentary bards do not have it
quite all their own way, for here and there a protest is
heard against the common praise. Virgil, in his
Georgics, speaks of the Harvest-flies as insects of a dis-
agreeable and stridulous tone, and accuses them of
bursting the very shrubs with their noise. Whether
this is a case of national jealousy, or evidence that the
musical ear of Italy was as delicate then as now, I will
not undertake to decide.”’

‘‘ It seems impossible,’’ the Mistress said, *‘ that so
cultivated a people as the ancient Greeks could have
been so destitute of musical taste as to attribute such
virtues to the discordant squeaking of a male Cicada.
It is really hard to believe !”’ '

‘* Perhaps,’’ the Doctor suggested, ‘‘ you may prefer
to explain the fact by a not uncommon social phenom-
enon nowadays. Have you not observed that it only
needs that a few people of approved position and taste
should declare a thing ‘divine,’ in order to bring the
mass of so-called ‘society’ on their knees before it ?
Pray, how could the Greeks oppose the dictum of their
literary guild and authorities of culture, combined
with the tradition of their ancients? It would have
been high presumption to trust their own ears in the
face of such testimonies. But here is another protest
which, perhaps, will not command the ladies’ sympa-

SHVENTEEN YEARS UNDER GROUND. 3%5—

thy quite so readily. It is an old witicism, attributed
to the incorrigible Rhodian sensualist, Xenarchus, and
gives a reason for the supposed happiness of the har-
vest-flies very different from that of Anacreon :

‘ Happy the Cicadas’ lives,
Since they all have—voiceless wives ¥ ”

OQ the wretch !”” exclaimed the Mistress, laughing.

To be sure, he was a wretch,” I remarked, ‘‘and a
false philosopher at that, for my observation has been
that men are not only more curious, but more talkative .
than women. But I am obliged to the old cynic, never-
theless, for his couplet shows that even at that early
date the fact had been observed that the males alone are
gifted with sound-producing organs.”

“IT must not weary you with my quotations,”’ the
Doctor resumed ; ‘‘ but I may tell you that the rage for

decorating the person with images of insects, which
prevails so widely just now, is only a revival of an old
custom. The Athenian elders, even before the time of
Thucidides, were accustomed to fasten golden images
of the Cicadas in their hair, and the same were worn as
ornaments on dresses. These were emblems of their
claims to being Autocthones (Avroyfoves), that is,
as we would say, Aborigines, original inhabitants of
the soil. The significance of the emblem lay in the
belief that Cicadas sprung from the soil, an origin
which the Greeks might well be excused for attributing
to them. in view of their peculiar habits.

‘‘T add that the Greeks, notwithstanding their ven-

376 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

eration for these insects, made them an article of food,
and accounted them delicious, Ailian takes occasion to
reprimand the men of his age for the fact that an ani-
mal sacred to the Muses should be strung, sold, and
greedily devoured! It does seem to have been yery
improper and inconsistent behavior; but the ancient
Greeks are not peculiar among their fellows in devour-
ing the objects of their worship, or, perhaps I should
say, worshipping the objects that they devour.”’

- CHAPTER XIX,
HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET,

THESE house chronicles do not record all the conver-
-sations held around the great sitting-room fireplace
during the year of which I write. Since undertaking
to edit the notes accumulated at that time, I have been >
compelled to omit many subjects. Iam not sure that
the most interesting themes have always been chosen
for these published papers. At least, it is safe to say
that many that greatly interested our circle will not
here appear; for it only needed that we should unite
our knowledge and experience upon the life-history
of the humblest of the Insect Tenants of our Old
Farm, in order to insure a fund of agreeable informa-
tion. Certainly, some insects had greater attraction
for us than others, but there was enough and to spare
in the natural history of any one of them. Time and
again our little circle learned the truth, well known to
naturalists, that the objects which yield the richest
store under investigation are those which lie nearest at
hand. From such objects we selected our subjects,
leaving many untouched; and from such selections
again these published notes have been gleaned. I make
bold to speak of this lest some one should think that

these scant studies cover the field of entomology.
D4 3t7

378 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

Nay ; it is true here, as Jerrold said of the soil of Aus-
tralia, one has but to ‘‘ tickle the face of nature with a
hoe and she laughs with a golden haryest.’? We but
touched the surface of the Insect World in our Conver-
sations, and I am scarcely doing so much in these
notes.

Meanwhile, the season steadily advanced, Thanks-
giving Day came in with a whirl of tempest and snow
that marked the advent of winter. Again the days
brightened, and the early weeks of December recalled
the mingled softness and severity of November. Christ-
mas came with its good cheer, and a sunny holiday
week closed with a real winter storm, and a snow that
whitened all the woods and fields. Shut in, as we
were, by the heavy weather and our solitary site from
the society of neighbors and friends, and thrown back
upon our own resources for enjoyment, we came to
look for the weekly or semi-weekly entomological meet-
ings with increased pleasure. Surely there is a valuable
hint here for many country homes. It is true that a
specialist cannot often be found to lead the winter-
night conversation; but the printed page of book or
magazine may well take his place. There are few
home circles where individual studies and observations
could not add running comments of real value.

It was rare for us to pass the appointed time without
a Conversation ; and the preparation therefor—collect-
ing and arranging specimens, making outline sketches
and brief notes, gave to my mind an agreeable occupa-
tion that was quite needful alike to ward off discontent

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 309

and thoughts of business affairs. Change and rest
gradually wrought their helpful mission, and healthful
days and sleepful nights slowly returned to me,

To be sure, as the winter advanced, I lost the ad-
vantage of field studies, with the open air exercise
which they involved. There was, indeed, opportunity
for looking into the winter habits of my insect friends
which was improved with good results; but for the
most part we fell back upon the information gathered
during summer and autumn. This was little detriment
to our studies, as I had anticipated the difficulty, and
assisted by my willing and active aids, had made large
collections which could always be supplemented from
the city museum.

‘‘ What is the fun ?’’ asked the Mistress as I came in
on one of these collecting days, bringing a handful of
basket-worms.

‘*Only another example of Dan’s ‘curus’ ways,’’ I
replied. ‘‘ He has proved a real god-send to me, for I
think it would be well nigh impossible in a month’s
journey to strike so rich a vein of superstition as lies
under his black skin. He has given me a new insight
of the strange relations between my entomological pets
and my fellows, and shown me how deeply and strangely
the world of men has been impressed by the insect
world.”?

“* Well, and what new discovery have you made this
morning ?”?

‘* Something about these basket-worms. You know
the large arbor vite tree in the back yard has been

380 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

badly infested by them ; the whole top was stripped of
leaves, and the cone-shaped baskets were pendant from
every branch. I fear the tree may be beyond help, but
I resolved to try to save it by plucking and burning all
the baskets. JI ordered Dan to get the orchard step-
iadder and help me in this work. I was surprised to
see him hold back and seek to avoid the duty, but he
finally obeyed and gathered the branches into a heap
as I clipped them from the tree. However, he kept
muttering over his task, and shook his head continually
ina most solemn way. I set this down as one of his
oddities and took no notice of it. The tree was stripped
at last and a great pile of basket-worms gathered.

‘‘ Now, Dan,”’ I said, ‘‘ get a few kindlers and we
shall make a little bonfire.”

‘“Yo aint gwine to burn up dese tings, Mars May-
fiel’, be yo ?”

‘Certainly ; why not? Come, hurry up !”’

The old fellow took off his hat and stood twisting the
brim around and around through his fingers. He
looked as solemn as the grave. I began to show some
vexation, I suppose, for he said:

‘Mars Mayfiel’, I done sarve yo tro and faiful, alluz 5
an’ alluz meanter do my duty ’s well ’s I know how.
But dar ’s some tings wat a man haint no right ter do,
nur ax anoder man ter do for ’im. -An’ dat’s jes one
uv’em. Ef yo’ll please ’scuse me from doin’ dat, I'll
be powerful bleeged ter yo. I ax yo pardon, but clar
te goodness, Mars’r I can’t do dat ting.”’

I saw that he was in serious earnest, and relieved

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 381

his anxiety at once. ‘All right, Dan, I womt ask
you to do this work if you object so seriously. But
what’s your reason for declining ?” .

‘“T done got conscience agin it, sir.”’

*“‘Conscience ! against killing these caterpillars that
are destroying your trees? You surely can’t be in
earnest, Dan ?”’

*““Can’t help it, sah. Ise dead in yarnest, I shore
yo. It’s jes dis a-way. Dem’s wat-we uns call fire-
~ wood billies [billets] ; an’ wat de ole folks saze is, dat
dey is nuffin mo’ nur less dan human critters wats a-
been punished fer stealin’? wood wen dey wuz alive an’
inde body. Dey’s jes been turned inter dese billies
deyselves, an’ so dey go aroun’ totin dey sacks ob
leetle sticks, and hangin’ dar in de win’, col’ an’ chill
enough de whole winter froo. °~Tempsychoses—dat’s
wat Latimore’s ole Aunt Sue used to call it. Now,
Mars Mayfiel’, I ’low you doan bleeve dat ; but, yo’
see, I does; an’ I couldn’t git consent nohow to gage
in a-burnin’? ob dem pore tempsychoses. Dey’s pun-
ished enough, I reckon, already; an’ dough dey is
turned inter billies ob fire-wood, I doan want ter be de
man wat put’s de fire to em. We’s all powerful weak,
sah, an’ like to go astray, an’ ef ebrybuddy wat steals
now-a-days done got turned inter billies, dar’d be a
heap mo’ tempsychoses hangin’ ’roun’ de trees, sah,
dan dey is now. I doan’ mean no disrespect, indeed I
doan’, but dat’s w’y I can’t ’bey dat order.”’

*“ Well, Ihave had a similar experience with Dan,”’

said the Mistress, laughing, when I had finished my

382 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

story. ‘‘ A few days ago I asked him to carry a bundle
up-stairs and put it into the blue-room, He refused
politely enough but decidedly. I wondered at his
rebellion and asked him for a reason.”’

‘‘T nebber goes inter dat room, Mis’ Mayfiel’,’’ he
said, ‘‘an’ I nebber did, and, please de Lor’, I nebber
will.”

‘Why not, Dan ; what’s the matter with the
room ?”’

‘Matter enough, ma’am. How d’yo spose dem
tracks got up on dat ceiling ? No dorg nur mann ebber
walked ober de roof in dat away, head down’rd. No,
no !’? and he shook his head solemnly, ‘‘ dar’s been bad
business dar. Yo’ may denen’! No mortals nebber |
made dem tracks! An’ ole Dan doan wan ter git his
head in-under ’em.”’ }

The room which had thus excited Dan’s superstition
is a back chamber on the south side of the second floor.
The ceiling has been preserved precisely in the state in
which it was built a century ago. It is made of plain
unpainted boards, which are really the floor of the
loft above. The rough rafters upon which they are
nailed show in all their virgin plainness. A small
square boxed hole serves as a ventilator through the
roof. The ancient side-door retains the old-fashioned
‘**bobin ”’ latch, and a very old chest of drawers adds to
the quaintness of the chamber.

As one enters the room and glances upward, he is
surprised to find a number of dog-tracks upon the
ceiling! There they are, their strong leather-brown

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 383

color showing distinctly even against the age-browned
boards. How did the dog-tracks get there? In one
corner of the roof are the indistinct outlines of a pair
of naked human feet. Some one seems to have scrubbed
there until they are recognized with difficulty, but
human footprints they certainly are.

The origin of these ‘‘ tracks’? has been for many
years a fruitful subject for gossip among humbler
country-side folk. But there is not. much mystery
about it according to the Townes family tradition.
The board-yard at which the lumber was bought was
also the tan-yard, and feet that had passed through
the liquid tan had walked across and left their prints
upon the boards which good Friend Townes had
loaded up for his new house. No one thought worth
while to plane them off, and so they were nailed down,
tracks and all! Many a tidy housekeeper had tried
her hands and temper at the task of scrubbing off the
marks ; but at last they came to be valued for their
oddity. Nevertheless, there was this disadvantage,
that in some minds the mysterious dog-tracks awakened
nearly as much consternation as did the ‘‘ handwriting
on the wall’? at Belshazzar’s feast.

Poor Dan of course fell a victim to the mystery.
Who would accept so simple an explanation as that
which we have given? Too plain entirely, that! No,
no; the feet that left those prints upon the ceiling
were not of mortal mold! The room ‘ wasn’t zactly
‘hanted,’’’ Dan agreed, but he steadily refused to
compromise himself with the ‘‘sperits’’ by entering

384 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

it. Queer old Dan! His character had a most har-
monious setting in such a quaint old house, ©

In our conversation upon the ‘‘ Tailor Insects,”’ the
basket or bag-wormis had the first place. Ihad collected
a number of interesting specimens from the old farm
and from a grove at Shadybank, the home of one of
my neighbors. These had been gathered from several
species of trees widely differing in character—the
arbor vitee, white pine, larch, cypress, Scotch syca-
more, American sycamore or buttonwood, English
walnut, silver maple and sugar maple.

The caterpillar therefore has a wide range in the
selection of its food-plant, and thus has immense ad-
vantages in the struggle for life and the chance to
increase man’s struggle. —

‘‘The basket-worm is the caterpillar of a species of
moth sometimes known as the house-builder moth.
By others the insects are also called Canephore, or,
basket-carriers, and the Germans call them Sack-trdger,
or sack-bearers. These specimens all belong to one
species (Thridopteryx Psychidx), which is widely dis-
tributed throughout our vicinity.

‘* Let us take up our history of the insect at the point
when it appears as a larva. So far as we know, the
eggs are laid, by the female within the case, and are
there hatched out. The first act of the young worm is
to spin around itself a silkcn case, open at both ends,
This becomes at last an extremely tough substance,
narrow at the bottom, widened out at the middle, and

again narrowed at the top into a tube, widest at the

#iG. 120.—BASKET ON PINE,

885

386 VENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

rim. Look at some of these cases; most of them are
of this year’s brood, and contain a crysalis, from which
an Ephemeraform Moth will emerge next summer.
Here is one that fed upon the pine ; you observe how
the long needle-like leaves of the tree have been at-
tached to the outside of the case, and hang down far be-
low the end (Fig. 120.) Here is another that has been
made upon arbor vite, and the leaves and oblong

FIG. 121.—BASKET. WORM DRAWN UP TO FEED OR SPIN.

cones of the plant completely conceal the silken en-
velope. This tree or shrub is a favorite food-plant of
this species, at least I have frequently found the worm
upon it. Here is a third specimen, a small one, which
is completely covered with the feather-like bracts of.

FIG. 122.—A PROSPECTING BAGWORM.

887

388 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

the Scotch sycamore. A few stamens and bits of twigs
assist the ornamentation. The case hangs to the mid-
rib, and the opening cut in the leaf, all around the
case-stalk, shows where the insect has been feeding.’

‘What is the use of these patches and bars ?”’ asked
Abby. ‘* Are they simply for ornament like the beads
and buttons that ladies sew upon their dresses ?”

‘‘T suspect that the caterpillar has not yet reached
the stage of development at which it is either troubled
or gladdened by the esthetics of dressmaking. The
habit is probably protective. And yet one would think
that the extremely tough case which envelops it would
be quite sufficient armor against all assault of foes and
stress of weather. Nevertheless, this leafy coat of
mail, which, as you see, sometimes wholly covers the
sac, must greatly add to the protective value of the cov-
ering. The caterpillar has a soft, hairless body, and is
thus more exposed to attack than many others; but
certainly Nature appears to have favored this creature
far above its fellows.”’

‘‘Tow does the worm manage to trim her coat in
this wise ?’? asked the Mistress.

‘‘T have some drawings here that will enable me to
answer you. But it will be necessary first to explain
the manner of eating. The larva has perfect control of
its own movements, notwithstanding the fact that it
carries its house upon its back. It can thrust its body
out of the sac- mouth until nearly the whole of it is
exposed, and twist and bend itself in all directions.
(Fig. 122.)

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 389

‘*T have seen specimens that had dropped from the
trees hanging by a thread and squirming, bending and
snapping their bodies in the
oddest ways, while the case
spun around like an old-
fashioned distaff, which in-
deed it resembles. Now,
when the caterpillar wants
to feed it stretches out its
head and neck, and moves
them about until a satis-
factory point has been se-
cured. This it clasps with
its pro-legs, which are hard,
conical organs provided
with sharp claws, and pulls
up its body as you see at
‘this figure (Fig. 121), and
begins to spin. The spin-
ning organs are near the
mouth, and after several
motions of the head, as
though smearing the liquid
viscid silk, the head is

drawn back, thus drawing
out ashort thread. A simi-

FIG. 123.—FEEDING ON
PINE.

lar movement is then made
against one side of the
mouth of the sac. This process is repeated several
times until a stout stay-line is spun by which the

390 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

larva hangs securely. Now the creature is ready to
feed. The behavior varies in this act, a good deal.
For example, here is a sketch (Fig. 123) of a worm
feeding upon the white pine. You may see the stay-
line by which it hangs to one leaf, while it reaches
to an adjoining needle, bites it off, and ‘‘ sits *? erect in
its house comfortably chewing off the end which is con-
tinually shored upward by the two pairs of pro-legs
that appear above the sac. This specimen made a
very comical figure, and reminded me, when I drew
it, of the attitude of a squirrel feeding on a nut.

‘‘ But more frequently the worm feeds without sepa-
rating the leaf from the point. of suspension. In the
sketch, for example (Fig. 121), which I use to illustrate
the attitude in spinning, we have the same position
precisely as that taken when eating. The caterpillar
has made itself fast to the under part of the leaf, as you
see, and is gnawing at the edge, moving its head around
as it eats. When the sketch was taken the leaf was
nearly consumed.”’

‘¢ Can thee tell how the caterpillar is held within its
house ?”? asked Aunt Hannah, ‘‘ Does it lash its body
to the inside ?”’

‘““T never saw a fastening of any sort in the cocoons
which I have opened. The larva can turn itself around
easily in its case, and go out at either end, although
the head is generally upward. It clings to the inside
of the case with the hooks upon its hinder feet, and so
tenaciously that I have never been able to force one out,
always being checked by the fear of tearing the creature

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 391

in two. I come now to the mode of attaching the leaf-
cuttings to the case. So far as I have observed, this
is always done at or near the mouth of the sac; at
least I never saw a worm stretch its mouth backward
and downward to sew a patch to the lower part of
its case.”’

‘* But how do they get there ? See here !’’ exclaimed
Abby, “‘the leaves and chips are scattered all along
the basket, from top to bottom. The caterpillar must
have reached down to these points in order to fasten .
them there.”’

Abby’s opinion evidently had a unanimous verdict of
approval from the members of the circle who were care-
fully examining the baskets. I was therefore bound to
defend my assertion.

“You forget, I think, that the basket-worm larva
is a growing creature, unlike the moth itself, which
emerges a perfect insect of full growth. It begins as a
small worm, eats small quantities, and, as you may ob-
serve, down here toward the foot of the case sews on
very small tags. But after it has fastened on these
pieces—to the mouth, remember—it grows itself, and
so also does the case, which it continually stretches and
enlarges. You can easily see, therefore, that the
mouth of the case is continually changing, moving up-
ward as the worm feeds, just as does the opening of
_ Aunt Hannah’s stocking as she knits. The pieces
sewed upon the cap of the case thus appear, in an adult
caterpillar, precisely as they are here, scattered along
the outside from top to bottom. Is that clear to yau ?”’

392 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘‘T quite understand it now,’’ said Abby; ‘but I
am still at a loss to know how the pieces are put on.
Can you explain that ?” |

‘‘In part at least; for I have seen the process in
worms feeding upon .arbor vite. Take one example
which may illustrate others. In this drawing (Fig.
124) the worm has cleared a goodly space around it
and has eaten along a twig toward the outer point.
Now, suppose that just where its head is shown,
it cuts quite through the twig, whether by accident
or design I cannot say. Of course the outer part
drops down. But, while eating, the worm frequently,
quite constantly, indeed, spreads its viscid silk along
the leaf and so keeps it attached on both sides to
the upper edge of the sac, or to its own mouth-
parts. ;

‘* Thus, the tip of the twig or leaf, when it is severed
from the stem, instead of falling to the ground, simply
drops alongside of the case to which it is held by the
slight filament that attaches it to the sac, or as in
many instances, to the caterpillar’s spinnerets. In
either case, the twig, leaf, stem, or cutting remains,
and after being drawn up, adjusted and tightened by
the worm, sticks tightly. As the creature is con-
tinually moving its spinning tubes around the tep of
the sac, these fastenings are continually being
strengthened. ‘Thus one piece after another is added,
and so the basket grows. No doubt the animal varies
her mode of procedure, but so far as I have observed,

the process is as I have given it.

HOUSHKEHPING IN A BASKET. 595

‘*Can the basket-worms walk with such big packs
upon their backs ?’’ asked Harry.

‘That they can, and make pretty good time, too. I
once timed one that was climbing up a tent pole, and

FIG. 124.—CUTTING A TWIG OF ARBOR VITA.

found that it traveled at the rate of three inches a
minute, and could have made much better time, I am
sure. It walked ten or twelve feet before it stopped,
or rather, before I lost sight of it in a branch that
overhung and touched the tent. Two others were
tried in the same way with about the same results.
They are odd looking objects as they go along, with

their baskets hanging down, held out at_right angles,
25

394 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

or even, when small, turned quite erect. Here is a
drawing of one climbing a leaf-stalk. (Fig. 125.)

‘* But how do they manage to walk? I can’t under-
stand that,’’ said Harry.

‘*The walking is done altogether with these three
fore-legs. Let us suppose that the caterpillar has just
made a step. Its head and the upper rings of the
body are thrust beyond the case. It is holding by all
its pro-legs. Now it prepares.to take a step; it re-
leases first the second pair of legs, and immediately
after the first pair, at the same time pushing its head
forward. The rings of the body extend like the joints
of a telescope, and when the two first legs are ready to
be set down, the fore part of the body is well advanced.
Then the larva pulls upon the third pair of legs which
hold tightly to the surface, and by wrinkling up, or
more properly contracting the rings of the middle and
hind part of the body, it hitches them forward, and,
of course, the whole case comes along. That completes
one step, and all others are made in the same way.’’

** Well, well,’ exclaimed the Mistress, when I had
sent my sketch around the circle, ‘* of all curious crea-
tures which you have described to us, this basket-
worm appears to me to bear away the palm for oddity.
I begin to uriderstand why one can be so patient and
self-denying in nature studies. Really it must be a
great pleasure to find out all these remarkable things.”?

“To me,’? said Aunt Hannah, ‘‘ there is something
more remarkable than thy husband’s patience, or even
the habits of his insect friends.”’

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 390

FIG. 125.—HOW THE BAG-WORMS WALK AND CLIMB.

** Pray what is that ?”’

‘“‘It is the fact that these creatures have been living
their wonderful lives and working out their wise ways
underneath my very eyes all my life time, and I never
saw them! Since thee has spoken of it, Friend May-
field, I remember having observed these objects hang-
ing to the limbs of some of our own trees when stripped
of leaves in autumn. But it never occurred to me to
examine them. Indeed, if I thought about them at

all, it was only to suppose them some part of the tree—

596 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

a cone, or something of that sort. I am ashamed, hu-
miliated and amazed at my stupidity !”

‘“An honest confession, Aunt Hannah,” 1 said,
‘and if all who are in like condemnation would speak
with like candor, there would be a great ‘army of con-
fessors,’ I assure you. But so it always has been. The
‘seeing eye’ is one of the rarest gifts in this world of
ours.”’

‘* Shall I tell you what I have been thinking about ?”
asked Abby.

‘* By all means ; something pleasant, I am sure, by
your smiling face.”’

**T was thinking of the Jubilee Singers.”’

‘The Jubilee Singers !? the Mistress exclaimed.
‘*Of all things mundane, why of them? Your power
of association will certainly turn out to be a greater
marvel than we have yet heard of.”

‘‘T am quite in earnest,’ Abby responded. ‘ There
is one plantation song which those colored students
rendered that I never understood until to-day. It
flashed into my mind while Mr. Mayfield was telling us
how the basket-worm walks. Do you remember the
lines ?—

‘Tm inchin’ along like a pore inch-worm,
Inchin’ along to Jesus !

‘* Now, [ used to think that over-rude, if not irrey-
erent, even for a plantation hymn ; for it never occurred
to me before that the figure is a true and highly ex-
pressive one, drawn ‘from the daily observation and

adapted to the simple characters of those who sang

HOUSEKHEPING IN A BASKET. 397

it, albeit somewhat vulgar to our ears. What could be
more appropriate than the phrase ‘inchin’ along’ to
describe the ‘motion of your basket-worm and other -
geometrids ? And what more natural and apposite
metaphor could be found for the halting, hitching,
timorous progress of some souls in the spiritual life ?
If we grant that all objects in nature are of equal
worth and standing, the ‘inch-worm’ is entitled to
a place among poetic emblems, and the rude plan-
tation hymnists’ figure is a literary gem.’””

‘‘T find myself in the affirmative,’’ I remarked, ‘‘ on
all these points ; at least Lam not prepared to dissent
from either the Mistress, Aunt Hannah, or Miss Abby.
I suppose, therefore, that I may resume the story of the
basket-worm, for I have not yet quite finished. Some
one asked me if the caterpillar has a covering to the
mouth of itscase. No, but it has several ways of clos-
ing it. If it is walking along or feeding, at any alarm
it instantly draws itself up and forces the open mouth
closely against the stem or leaf, which then serves as a
door.”’

‘That ’s just the way a snail does with its shell,”’
suggested Harry. ‘‘I’ve often seen ’em !”’

“= recisely. Ihe soft body of the snail is thus
pushed within its hard shell while the rock to which it
clings closes the opening. If the caterpillar happens to
be hanging by the stay-thread or loosens its hold upon
the leaf, it instantly grasps the upper rim of the sac
just within the mouth and pulls the edges together
over its head, as Harry might close a grain-bag with

398 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

his hands after backing inside of it. When the worm
rests from feeding it proceeds in this way, and sews the
mouth up securely. It will often hang thus during much
of the day time, and in the cool of the evening come out
to eat. Ihave seen the branches of an arbor vite tree
fairly astir with the number of basket-worms that come
out at nightfall to feed. ‘Of course the exit is easy, for
they have only to cut the inner fastenings with their
sharp teeth.

‘* When the larva is about to become a pupa it shuts
up the case in the last way described, casts off its last
larval skin, and, without making any other cocoon,
awaits its transformation. :

‘*Do both sexes have the same bag or basket -
making habit ?’? asked Hugh.

‘* Yes; but here comes in another remarkable fact in
the life-history of our insect. Like the tussock moth,
of which you have already learned, the female of the
basket-worm is wingless. Indeed, if you examine the
specimen you will notice that she has the merest
apologies for legs and antennz—in fact, closely
resembles her larva. A more helpless creature it
would be hard to find; and so, like the discreet matron
of Scripture, she is a ‘‘ keeper at home,’’ though, for
that matter, there is nothing else for her todo. She
never leaves her case, not even to receive her wooers,
who must seek her inside her own house.”’

‘‘How, then, pray, does she ever find a mate ?”
asked the Mistress.

‘Ah! she is a thorough’ model of maidenly mod-

HOUSEKEEPING IN A BASKET. 399

esty in that respect, for the mate always finds her.
Nature has given him wings, decorated him with
beautiful feathered antenne, and made him in every .
respect a striking contrast to his fat, downy, grub-like
partner,

‘* As soon as-he has transformed, he abandons his
secure castle and hies away to seek his true-loye, which
is now the one aim of his life. Undoubtedly, the re-
tired habits of his ladye faire present serious obstacles 5
but then, when was ever true lover daunted by difficul-
ties ? Sooner or later he finds his mate, who, for her
part, spends the short remainder of her life in laying a
number of eggs within her basket home, wherein, by-
and-by, a lively brood of young caterpillars are reared.
They have regular, restless Anglo-Saxon dispositions,
and, as we have seen already, are not content until
they colonize from the old homestead and set up house-
keeping for themselves. It was at this point that we
began the history of the basket-worm, and here we

must now leave it.”’

CHAPTER XX.
SARTOR INSECTORUM.

‘

OuR next meeting fell upon a genuine winter evening.
Snow had fallen during the day, and although the moon
rose full, yet ever and anon sharp squalls drove clouds
along the sky, intercepting her rays, and dusting the
fast whitening earth with feathery falls of snow flakes,
Then the clouds scudded away, and the moonlight laid
its glory upon the landscape. Looking out from our
sitting-room window, we saw Luna’s broad, jocund
face hanging over a neighboring woods, and peering
straight along the line of our wide avenue. In the
open spaces the light sparkled among the snow crystals,
which, as they drifted before puffs of wind, seemed like
a phosphorescence of the frost upon a sea of snow.
The lane and fields lay in a whiteness that was intense
under the full moonbeams ; shadows of the trees
stretching down toward us were deeper in the contrast,
and as the branches swayed before the gust, they
shifted continually, so that their weird outlines looked
like a dance of giants sporting on a crystal floor, and
reaching forth their gaunt arms to catch the columns
of drift that whirled by like veiled spirits of the storm.

Inside the old farm house a cheerful home scene was

presented. Dan thoroughly understands the well nigh.
400

SARTOR INSECTORUM. AQT

lost art of “ building »» an open hearth fire. Flush
against the chimney wall a great back-log lay, its heart
already well uncovered by the gnawing flames, whose
huge triangular bite was all aglow with rosy embers.
Hickory sticks of various sizes, laid on in delicate grada-
tion, were piled atop of the andirons in front of the
back-log. How the big fire did leap and laugh, and
spit and sparkle, and hiss and crackle as the flames ate
their way into the wood! ‘The bed of coals beneath
continually grew as splints and chunks fell off from the
fore-logs, curled up into glowing color upon the hot
bed, and then melted away into the common mass of
embers. In the hearth-corner the tea kettle kept up a
genial sizz-z in answer to the kitten’s purr, and the old-
fashioned brazen standards of the irons seemed from
their polished bulbs and rings to reflect the comfort,
brightness and genial warmth of the whole precincts
of the hearth.

Winter snows are the true soil for the generous cul-
ture of home. Home life, home love, home pleasures
are indigenous growths in lands where the Frost King
claims some season for his own. How one hugs his
hearth-stone and feels his heart leap up with its fire-
flames in gladness over his well-housed loved ones,
when he hears the storm rattling at his window !

The table was wheeled in front of our fire, the lamps
were lit and set upon it, together with boxes of speci-
‘mens, books and the invariable folio of manilla paper
for illustrations. - Why is it that on such occasions the:

ladies are sure to find some pleasant and useful occupa-

402 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

tion for their fingers ? Certes, they present a graceful
and pleasing feature in the home circle, with pretty
work-baskets at their sides filled with its paraphernalia
of thimbles, scissors, emery-bag, needles, pins, spools
and divers odds and ends, with rolls of broidery bright
with many hues on their laps, or tidy pieces of plain
sewing, or meshed bands and bundles of knitting work,
while trim fingers move briskly, and the tools of their
delicate handicraft tinkle amid the music of their
tongues. To say nothing of economies, these womanly
ways are a vast contribution to the esthetics of our
houses, and show in notable contrast with the ungrace-
ful, even ungainly over-consciousness of hands and the
mystery of what to do with them, which so often char-
acterize the male portion of a family circle.

These reflections were started by a glance around our
sitting-room on that winter night. All the ladies had
some pleasant work for their fingers ; even the click of
Sarah’s knitting-needles sounded out of the kitchen
shadows. But the masculines betrayed by their awk-
ward attitudes and restless movements the need of
some occupation for their hands to give their bearing
poise and gracefulness.

Who will discover for man’s fingers a suitable and
congenial home employment besides rotating a news-
paper and manipulating a cigar ? For such a genius a
monument more enduring than brass awaits.

‘* Thee spoke of insects sewing,’’? said Aunt Hannah,
as we began our Conversation on Insect Tailors amid
the above congenial surroundings. ‘‘I have looked

SARTOR INSECTORUM.

over these specimens, and
have seen nothing that
can fairly be called by

that name—at least ac-

cording to our ideas of
such work. I think f
should speak of the bas-
ket-worm’s labor as past-
ing rather than sewing.
Nor do I see anything
different in these nests of
spiders, leaf-rolling cater-
pillars and cutting bees.”’

“That is true,’’ I. re-
plied, ‘if we concede
that sewing requires the
use of a needle or needle-
like implement. Our in-
sects do not sew their
nests together in the sense
or fashion of the tailor-
bird or fan-tailed warbler,
for example. But sup-
pose we define sewing as
the art of making an
artificial covering for the
body, then the basket-
worm is a true insect
tailor, is it not ?

‘* Or, again, suppose we

‘(WLVITHOLASNOO VUINdH) UNIIdS CIOVIONdS TH FO LSAN-tVaT Gu MAS—'ORT “Olt

46

3

404 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

define sewing as the art of joiming together separ-
ate pieces of pliable material by means of threads.
Then our basket-worm as well as these ,leaf-rollers
and spiders are true tailors, for certainly they do
unite leaves into nests by silken threads stretched from
one to the other. (Fig. 126). Here in this nest of the
Spectacle spider, made in a hickory leaf, you can dis-
tinctly see the threads crossing the seam from side to
side, from one end to the other. Here are some nests
of the beautiful Shamrock spider, one spun among the
leaves of some vine unknown to me (Fig. 127), the
others made out of the leaves of afern. They are beau-
tiful objects even now as dried specimens, and were far
more shapely when seen in nature. Now, in these
cases and all similar ones, the ends of threads have been
made to adhere to instead of passing through pieces
after having been drawn taut, but the effect is pre-
cisely the same in both modes—the threads pull the
pieces or parts together, and hold them so. That, I
think, may fairly be classified as tailoring, may it
not 2”?

‘Yes, but here is a difference,”’ said Abby, joining
in the discussion. ‘‘ The art of the tailor or seamstress
has for its object the clothing of the body. Now, if we
admit that the basket-worm’s case is really such a coy-
ering, a true coat or frock, if you please, you cannot
say the same of these spider structures, According to

your own showing they are houses, not garments.”’

‘‘Well put, Miss Abby, and you shall be fairly an--

swered. During the bright autumnal days I pitched

SARTOR INSECTORUM. 405

FIG. 127.—LEAF-NEST OF THE SHAMROCK SPIDER.
(EPEIRA TRIFOLIUM. )

my tent upon the lawn and used it continually for an
office and outdoor library, so that by the physician’s
advice I might be as much as possible in the open air,
My tent is sewed—a house or shelter of various pieces
of canvas wrought together by the tailor’s craft. But
what will you do with it if you refuse to allow the
spider’s nest a place among sewed structures because it
is a tent and not a garment ?”? (Fig. 197.)

406 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

“Really, Abby,’’ smilingly remarked Aunt Hannah,
‘‘T think that we must admit that Friend Mayfield is
right, and receive his insect friends into our worthy
guild of spinsters, tailors and seamstresses. For one, I
am better content with their association than I would
have been before I was favored with a piace at these
Conversations. ”’

‘“‘Thaak you, Aunt Hannah. And now I shall pre-
sent for the honor of membership a new candidate, the
Leaf-cutter Bee (Megachile centuncularis).* You have
better reason for denying her claims to place among the
tailor insects than the others; but on the strength ‘of
the importance which I know the cutting department
to have in all sewing operations, I venture to include
her within this group.”’

‘‘Oh, we will all vote to admit her !’’ exclaimed the
Mistress. ‘' Bees are such genteel insects, and so in-
teresting withal, that any member of such a ‘highly
respectable family ’—to quote a favorite Philadelphia
phrase—shall not go a-begging for a seat among the
seamstresses. Let us have the leaf-cutter bee.”

“ Well, then, here she is—a thick-bodied insect with
a large square head armed with stout jaws. She is not
provided with a pollen-basket like the honey and hum-
ble-bees, but Nature has placed a thick mass of dense
hair on the under side of the apex of the abdomen or
tail, which she uses for the same purpose.

‘“We have two or three species common to the East-
ern United States [ Megachile menduca, M. integer, M.

* Or, M. Mendica, closely allied to M. Centuncularis,

SARTOR INSEHECTORUM. 407

brevis], having nearly the same habits, which indeed
differ little from those of their European congeners.
The insect begins her nest by boring a hole about the |
diameter of her own body in the soft pith of an elder
stem, or the soft wood of some old tree. Sometimes
she digs a cylindrical hole in a beaten pathway. Some-
times she economizes her labor by choosing the hollow
of a tree, the shelter of a cornice, or the cavities of an
old wall fcr her home-site. This done, she seeks her
favorite plant, which is commonly a rose-bush, and
begins to harvest leaves.

‘‘She makes the cut in almost the same way as the
cutting ant, as I have heretofore described it. She
flits from leaf to leaf, not that there appears to be any
ground for a selection, but somewhat on the principle
(whatever it is) that moves certain ladies in their
shopping expeditions. At last she is satisfied, settles
uvon the leaf, clinging by her feet to its edges. Then
she draws her scissors which she carries not at her
belt, but on the end of her face.. In other words, she
opens her mandibles, which are well ordered tools for
the purpose, and makes a slit into the edge of the leaf.
Thence she moves rapidly around the major part of a
circle, using her jaws as though one point of a pair of
compasses and her feet as the others. The jaws work
precisely like a pair of scissors, and with each forward
slit the legs are hitched farther along, until the op-

posite edge of the leaf is reached. Now she holds the

cutting in her jaws, balances it while she poises her
body upon fluttering wings, adiusts the severed piece

408 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM,

between her hind legs and flies away to her hole. Here
is a figure representing leaf-cutter bees engaged upon
a rose-bush, and beneath them are samples of the
cylindrical nests which they construct.’’ (Fig. 128.)

‘‘ How long does it take a bee to cut out one of these
pieces ?’’ asked Penn Townes. |

‘*One individual whose movements were timed, cut,
carried ten yards to her nest, fixed the leaf in its place,
and returned to the rose-bush on which she was work-
ing, at intervals of from half a minute to a minute,
and kept this up during an entire morning.”’

‘‘ Pretty rapid work that !”’ |

‘‘Yes, and you will appreciate it more highly when
I shall have told you how she disposes of the leaves.
ite you turn to our figure (128) you will notice first
that the leaves have been used to line the inner surface
of the hole, and that they form a tube not quite three
inches long, which consists of several ‘joints,’ as I may .
call them. If you will examine the joints you will
perceive that each is made up of three or four pieces,
and that the serrated edge, or natural selvage of the
leaf, as the ladies might say, is invariably placed on
the outside, while the cut margin is put innermost.
Do you observe these points ?”’

** ‘Yes, we all see.”

‘‘ Here is another fact. if Iam not much mistaken,”’
said Hugh. He had been examining the nest carefully,
and, as it proved, with a true mechanical eye. ‘If
you take purtickler notice, sir, you’ll see that in

formin’ uv these jints the bee has been careful not

SARTOR INSECTORUM. ~ 409

FIG. 128.—NEST OF LEAF-CUTTING BEE. (AFTER BLANCHARD.)

to put a jiriin over a jinin. She has laid the middle
or solid part of every piece fernent a seam, an’ I don’t
find nary seam that jines onter another seam. Bein’s
ther’s so many pieces and seams, thet looks es though
it mought a-been done a-purpose. Ain’t it so ?”’

‘You are quite right, and have proved yourself a
3 26

410 TENANTS OF AN OL) FARM.

good observer, for this point has attracted the atten-
tion of naturalists. It would reallv seem that the skill
of an experienced joiner had been brought to bear upon
this leafy tube.”’

‘* How are the pieces held together ?”’ asked Abby.
‘*T don’t see any seam—I don’t mean Hugh’s sort,
but the kind a seamstress makes. There’s neither
sewing nor pasting visible. Are the seams inside ?”

‘‘Now you have raised the point which I had in
mind at the outset when I spoke of the doubtful claim
of the leaf-cutter bee to a place among Taiior Insects.
In point of fact there is no sewing here at all—not a
thread used. The leaves are held in place by the
natural spring of the leaf alone. Here are a glass
lamp-chimney, a pair of scissors, and some bits of
paper. Who will try her hand at building an artificial
bee’s nest ? Miss Abby volunteers! Very well, Penn
may help you if he will, and see how you two will get
along at the mimic work of nest-making.”’

The Mistress cast a sly glance at the Schoolma’am,
whose pink cheeks reddened as she shook her head
-threateningly at me. Aunt Hannah looked up quickly
from her knitting, and shot a disapproving glance
across the table. It would have been an angry glance, ~
perhaps, if the good lady could have nursed wrath, for
the growing interest that Penn ‘lownes took in the
Yankee maiden was a sore trial to her. Abby was, in-
deed, all that her mother love could ask for her son,
with one exception—religion. How could she bear to
have her only child “‘ turned out,”’ deprived of his birth-

SARTOR INSEHECTORUM. 411

right privileges for ‘‘ marrying out of meeting ?’? She

who already sat in the front seats? whose husband

now sat side by siae with the head of the meeting, an
honored elder ? That long line of ancestral faithfulness
and honor in the belief and fellowship of Friends,
should it be broken off and cease forever by the rebel-
lious act of her son? Poer, dear woman! it had come
to be a great concern upon her mind, and a bitter cross
to carry.

It was but human that we should sympathize with
her struggles within these hereditary bonds; but for
all that it was natural for us to wish success in our
hearts to such a thoroughly well-appointed match.
Yet between Abby’s high spirit and old ideas of pro-
priety, and Penn’s affection for his parents and con-
scienticus regard for his ancestral form of Christianity,
the issue seemed more than doubtful. But whither am
T wandering ?

Let us hasten back to the leaf-cutter bee and her
nest-making,

** About ten or a dozen cuttings are required to form
one cell. Each cutting is bent into a curved form, and
pressed into the burrow in such a manner that the
pieces fit successively into or overlap one another, and
form a small thimble-shaped cell, whichis narrowed at
one end, and gradually widened at the other until the
width equals half the length. In this the mother bee
puts a single ege and some bee-bread, a substance com-
posed of pollen mixed with honey. Next she covers in
the opening with two or three circular pieces of leaf, so

‘

412 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

as to keep a baby bee within its own proper bounds,
and proceeds to make another cell.”’

‘‘ How many cells does she make, sir ?’’ asked Hugh,

‘‘The nest from which our illustrations were taken
contained thirty cells. These were not arranged con-
tinuously, but in nine separate rows or series of un-
equal length. The longest row contained six cells, and
was two and three-quarter inches long. The whole
leaf structure was equal to a length of fifteen inches,
and contained about a thousand pieces. I have often
wondered at the rare patience of some of our lady
friends in building a patchwork quilt out of no end of
bits of silk and other stuff. But here is an insect who
may fairly rival them.”’

‘* Here’s your model nest,”’ said Abby, who had by
this time completed her task. ‘‘ I should have found it

a far easier work ”’

laughing—‘‘if I could have crept
inside my burrow, as the bee does, instead of limiting
entrance to a finger or two. But I have been thinking
that you have assigned these insects the wrong trade,
after all.”

_ “How is that? Where do you place them ?”

‘* With the upholsterers. These leaves are tapestry.
The bee hangs them upon her walls and ceiling, and
lays them as->carpets upon her floors. Her handicraft
is upholstery, and therein I vote to put her.’’

‘Very well, put the little artificer where you may
she furnishes an interesting study. By-and-by her
egos become larvee, feed upon the bee-bread provided
by the Forethought uttered through maternal care,

SARTOR INSECTORUM. — 413

FIG. 129.—ROLLED LEAF-NEST OF TORTRICID MOTH,
(FROM NATURE.)

spin a slight silken cocoon about the tapestried walls of
their cradle-cells, go into the pupa state, and in about
a month become mature bees, and cut their way out
into the broad world to filf up their part of Nature’s

unending round.”’

414 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘*Perhaps the most perfect examples of the tailor’s
art in the insect world are found among the Lepidop-
tera. Butterflies, and especially moths, are famous for
sewed habitations.”’

‘* Moths !’? exclaimed the Mistress. ‘‘ You amaze
me. I thought they flitted from flower to shrub, and
build themselves no homes at all.”’

‘That is true of the imago or winged insect,’ I an-
swered. ‘‘ But you forget that the adult life of moth or
butterfly is the shortest part of its existence. In that
estate it is really an uninteresting creature, for ihe most
part, and challenges attention chiefly by its form and
colors. It is in the caterpillar state, the most odious to
the ordinary observer that the naturalist finds the most
interesting habits. Here, now, is a nest made proba-
bly by the caterpillar of a species of Tortrix. I
found it on the edge of the woods back of Asbury
Park within sight of the ocean. I have seen multi-
tudes of these globular nests about the size of an Eng-
lish walnut, rolled up at the tips of the leaves of the
great. fern, Aspidium thelypteris (Fig. 129.) See how
deftly the leaves have been rounded and sewed into this
spherical mass! And here is the little door out of which
the transformed insect made its escape. . Small forests
of this fern grow in low and moist places along our
Atlantic coast, and there you may find colonies of this
leaf-roller or their abandoned nests in the months of
July and August.”’

‘*T have often noted those clumps of tall ferns in my

summer saunterings by the sea,’’ remarked Abby; ‘* but

SARTOR INSECTORUM. 415

I never came across any of these beautiful objects, I am
sure, ”’ .

“‘ Doubtless thee came across them, but never ob-
served them,’’? suggested Aunt Hannah; ‘‘but that
was before thee had learned the value of the ‘seeing
eye’ by Friend Mayfield’s Conversations. J warrant
that hereafter thee will see more things in thy vaca-
tion jaunts than thee ever dreamed of—at least, I can
say as much for myself, I think.”

‘‘I stand corrected,’’? returned the Schoolma’am,
blushing. ‘‘ But,’’ she continued, ‘‘ I have learned the
value of a seeking tongue if not of the ‘seeing eye’; so
I will e’en ask, what is the purpose of this nest, and
how is it made ?”’

‘* A fair enough question,’”’ I answered ; ‘‘ but I fear
that I must somewhat disappoint your curiosity;
However, I will tell you what I know about other leaf-
rollers, and we shall thus, perhaps, easily infer how
this pretty spherical nest was made. To begin with,
this, like all nests of leaf-rolling caterpillars, is the
home of a single insect. The mother moth deposits its
eggs separately upon the food-plant of its young,
appropriating a leaf to each egg. As soon as the cater-
pillar is hatched it begins to spread its leafy tent above
it, impelled thereto by the double purpose of securing
itself from predatory birds and assailing insects, and of
providing adequate food. Itis not only important for
it to feed, but to feed in safety.

Sometimes the little hermit commences work upon
the upper, sometimes upon the under surface of the

416 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

leaf. Its mode of operation is generally very simple,
and you will better understand it by looking at these
figures (Figs. 130-131), which show the nest of the Oak-

FIGs. 130-131.—WoRK OF LEAF-ROLLING MOTH,
(AFTER RENNIE.)

leaf roller in several stages of progress. The caterpillar
fixes to the edge of the leaf a few short threads, which
it spins from its mouth, and draws them to the op-
posite edge ; or it stretches a thread from the tip and
edges of the leaf to the mid-rib. Next it takes position
at or near the middle of these lines and bears down or
pulls down upon them. Of course the tightening of
the threads naturally curls up the edges of the leaf,
Do you understand that, Harry ?”

“* Well, I—I —_,”’ began the boy.

‘Speak straight out, lad !”’ said Hugh, ‘‘and don’t
be ashamed of honest ignorance. Let your yea be yea,
and your nay, nay, and don’t worm around the truth

When it’s put straight to ye.”’

SARTOR INSHCTORUM, | 417

Thus admonished by his father,
Harry uttered an emphatic, ‘‘ No,
sir !”’

“Very well, let us try an ex-
periment. I loop an end of these
cords into the edge of this sheet of
paper. So! I take these pins and
fasten the other ends of the cords
into the sheet, thus—just far enough
along to tighten the cords and lift
up the edge of the paper a very
little. Nowtake this stick and push
down upon the middle part of the
cords.’’ (Fig. 133.). A oA eee

Harry followed my directions, and LEAF - ROLLING
CATERPILLAR. -

as the edges of the maniila sheet,
drawn upon by the taut string, raised and curled
over, his face lighted up with a bright smile, and he
exclaimed: |

‘Oh, it’s plain enough now! I quite understand !”’

FIG. 183,--SHOWING HOW THE LEAF IS CURLED.

418 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘* Very well,’’ I continued, ‘‘ let the stick drop down
to the paper. Here at the points where the cords
touch I thrust pins through them into the table. Re-
move your stick now, and there! You see that the
sheet reemains quite curled over. That is substantially
the leaf-roller’s mode of curling a leaf; except, of
course, that, instead of pinning down its threads, it
glues them down to the leaf; and, by a succession of
like operations, succeeds in making one complete roll
or cylinder, and then another and another, until its
full growth is attained.

‘* And, now, you want to know what the caterpillar
does in its leafy tent? Well, having made its home,
it straightway proceeds to eat it.”’

‘*Verily,’’ said Aunt Hannah, who could not resist
the opportunity to draw a moral lesson, ‘‘ there are
human beings who have the same unhappy faculty.
Many a good house and fair farm have I known to dis-
appear down the gullet of the glutton and wine-bibber.
Truly, Holy Scripture well calls man ‘a worm ?—
although, perhaps, Friend Mayfield, thy caterpillar
- doesn’t exactly illustrate the mind of the Spirit in that
phrase.”’

The closing sentence was evidently forced into this
apologetic strain by the smile which I could not re-
strain at the quaint use which the good woman had
found for my little leaf-roller.

‘‘Pardon me,’’ I said, ‘‘your lesson is not less
profitable because it awakes mirthfulness. But really,

Aunt Hannah, you have done the worm injustice by

SARTOR INSECTORUM. 419

your metaphor. The creature never eats itself out of
house and home after the fashion of our species; it
cuts windows and doors through its leaf partitions,
passing thereby from one to another, but the instinct
which urged it to its first act of protection prevents
it from destroying its outer defenses.”’

‘In other words,”’ said Abby, speaking up sharply,
‘Ca worm will do better for itself under the sway of
Instinct than some men under the rule of Reason.
Why is that ?”’

‘* Excuse me, Miss Abby, if I decline to follow up
your question fully. It would lead us into very deep
waters, indeed, and we should perhaps need Dr. Good-
man to bring us back to harborage. But let me say
there is some strange element which somewhere in
man’s history has overpassed the bounds and bars of
the common laws of Nature and found place within
him. It is peculiar to him—alien from his fellow-
creatures of the lower orders. It has jarred his nature
at many points, and made it discordant with the catho-
lic Unity and Law. It has set him upon paths that
lead to depths below the brutes. Sovereign of the
creatures as he is, it has yet betrayed him into inferior
traits, and shown him the baser and weaker vessel.
At some point in history man’s inner constitution has
undergone a strange—a terrible revolution. When was

it? Whatisit? I cannot say—at least I will not say

om)

now. I do not know
‘Friend Mayfield, J know, if thee does not!’ Aunt

Hannah dropped her work into her lap, and broke into

420 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

my unfinished sentence with very firm but tremulous
voice. ‘‘It is an old, old truth. Why should thee
spare to speak it? ‘God hath made man upright, but
they have sought out many inventions.’ That is the
strange element, the fact, the revolution which you are
thinking about; sin hath entered in !”’

It was plainly a truth in which Aunt Hannah did
not glory, for as she finished her sentence and resumed
her knitting, her mild eyes slowly fell, and tears
trickled over the white cheeks and dropped into her
lap.

It was an unexpected diversion from our theme, and
an embarrassing silence came upon the room, whose
solemnity old Dan interrupted in his own peculiar way.
He had sunk from his cricket almost into the attitude
of prayer, and, with hands clasped over his breast,
swayed to and fro.

‘“Good Lor’, hab marcy!” he at last exclaimed.
‘‘Dar’s no denyin’ hit—we’s all pore sinners, shore
*‘nough, and is chock full uv upsottin’ sins. Hit’s jes
dat, Mars Mayfiel’, and nuffin else. As de good
Book saze, hit’s de wpsottin sins w’at ’s done de
damage.”’

‘* Shall we go back to our subject ?” I asked, after a
moment’s pause.

‘*T was a-thinkin’,’’ said Hugh, ‘‘ w’ile you and the
iadies was talkin’, that I’d like to ax you a question
about worms.’’ The good fellow had evidently small
interest in a discussion of that phase of man’s natural |

history which relates to human deprayity. Indeed, he

SARTOR INSECTORUM. 491

was on such honest and kindly terms with himself and
all his fellows that it had probably never seriously oc-.
curred to him to think of himself as very much of a

sinner. He had therefore engaged his thoughts upon

another subject during our theological digression. ‘‘I

was a-wonderin’ w’at sort uv varmin is them apple-

tree caterpillars. Lallow they mought be tailor insects,

too? Tall events they ’s mighty peert at spinnin’ and

leaf-curlin’, and powerful destructive on the leaves.

I’d like to know w’at you make out’n them.”’

Sasi?
Figs. 134 AND 135.—FEMALE AND MALE OF THE TENT-
CATERPILLAR MOTH.

“You are thinking of the tent-caterpillar,”’ I an-
swered, ‘‘and an interesting fellow he is, although his
habits are certainly against him. We have two
common species closely resembling each other in form
and alike in habit. They are the apple-tree tent-
caterpillar -(Clistocampa Americana), and the forest
tent caterpillar (Clisiocampa disstria). The moth is a
dull reddish or reddish-brown color, and the female
measures about an inch and a half across the expanded
wings (Figs. 134 and 135). The hollow tongue or tube
by which moths imbibe their food is entirely wanting in

422 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

this species, hence it has no power of taking food, and
lives but a few days in the winged state, during which
time the eggs are laid. A large number of the nocturnal
visitors to our lamps during the evenings of July
belong to this Clisiocampa, and so, without knowing it,
you are all familiar with the creature, as you have seen
its bewildered behavior when it enters our lighted
rooms and flutters wildly about the often fatal flame.

‘* The eggs are deposited upon the small twigs o1
fruit trees in ring-like clusters, each composed of from
fifteen to twenty rows, containing in all from two to
three hundred. They are firmly cemented together,
and coated with a tough varnish impervious to rain.
The young larve are fully matured in the egg before
winter comes, and they remain in this enclosure in a
torpid state throughout the cold weather, and hatch
during the first warm days of spring. Their first meal
is made of the gummy material with which the egg
masses are covered, and their next of the tender buds
just bursting.

‘* Soon after hatching they begin to spin the tent-like
shelter which gives them their name, by stretching
silken threads from point to point across the forks of
the twigs whereon they have been cradled. As they
grow they spin new threads, laying them one atop of
another, and extending them to adjoining twigs, until
the spinning-work has become a close sheet by the
repeated overlays. The structure is now more or less
irregular in form, according to the relative position of

the twigs which support it. Often the nest is located

SARTOR INSHCTORUM. 428

FIG. 1386.—-NEST OF THE TENT-CATERPILLAR MOTH.

at the top of the twigs which, having a general conical
outline, give it naturally the appearance of an old-
fashioned Sibley tent or Indian wigwam. (Fig. 136.)

** The resemblance is frequently very striking, as may
be seen in this figure of a forest tent-caterpillar’s nest
which I saw growing upon a wild cherry-tree at the
base of Round Top on the famous battle-field of Gettys-
burg. Numbers of similar structures were fixed among
the branches of various trees, whose white texture was
brought out sharply against the dark-green of the
embowering leaves, As I turned from them and gazed

424 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

upon the martial city—an encampment of the National
Guards—whose canvas tents were pitched upon the
battle plain and swelling ridge over which the gallant
‘but fruitless charge of Pickett’s corps was made, I
could plainly see that likeness to which our tent-
making caterpillar owes its popular name. The tent
here figured was about ten inches in diameter across
the base, and its height was nearly the same; this is
about the average size, but many of the tents are
larger.

‘‘The holes through which the caterpillars enter are
near the extremities or angles of the nest, into which
they retreat at night, or in stormy weather, and dwell
when not feeding. They have regular times for feed-
ing, and may be seen marching out of their tent-doors
in processions usually twice a day, forenoon and after-
noon. ‘These -processions move in single or double
column, over sidewalks, along fences, trunks and
branches of trees, until they reach their proper food-
plant which they attack with a voracity that brings
serious damage when the nests are numerous.

‘‘In five or six weeks they mature, when they leave
the trees under the resistless impulse of Nature, and
wander about in all directions seeking suitable places
in which to hide during their crysalis stage. Pre-
sently you will find them under the cap-boards and
cross-rails of fences, in angles, recesses, and beneath
projections of various sorts, spinning tough, yellow
oval cocooxzs enclosed within a slight shelter of threads.

Within these cocoons the larve change to brown

SARTOR INSECTORUM. 425

crysalids, from which the moths escape in two or three
weeks.”’ 4

~ Well, sir,”’ said Hugh, “'it’s an amazin’ pleasin’
history that you’ve given us, but you’d make it a heap
more interestin’ to farmers ef you’d tell us wat to do
to git rid uv the worms.” |

‘** Against some of. our insect enemies,’’ I replied,
*‘man struggles at great disadvantage. They attack
him in such insidious guise at such unexpected times,
at points so inaccessible, in forms so minute, in num-
bers so immense, that the wisest and most diligent
may be taker unawares. But our tent-caterpillars
are no guerillas, but right honest and open foes. They
pitch their camps under our very eyes and march out
to assault like genuine soldiers in broad day. If a
farmer does not exterminate them or hold them within
harmless limits he suffers from his own laziness, in-
difference, or neglect.”’

E well, yes, that’s so, 4 reckon,’’ Hugh responded.
‘‘ But the plague on ’t is that sech a feller’s acres git
to be a breedin’ ground for al! sorts uv nuisances. and
the rest on us have to suffer with him.”’

**'True,’’ I said, *‘and then there is no remedy but
the law; and the time will come, perhaps, when
farmers—who have the majority of votes—will not
think it beneath their dignity to enact laws concerning
_ the destruction of insect pests.”’

CHAPTER) Sexi,
NATURE’S FIRST PAPER MAKERS.

BEFORE snowfall one of the most beautiful walks
from the Old Farm leads over the Crum Creek hills to
the paper mill of Mr. Lewis Howard. The path
threads the meadow by the Cave Stone, crossing
Townes’ Run, and so over the field along a pleasant

lane to the woodland which is, in fact, the east bank of

?
the creek. A wagon trail winds through the wood
along the verge of the hill and enters the mill road
flush upon the creek side.

The stream in this vicinity is quite sinuous, and cuts
its way by a steep channel among the hills which on
either side form the banks. ‘These are in many places
so abrupt and heavily wooded, that one pushes his way
with difficulty through the underbrush. Here is the
“forest primeval ;”? here Nature is held in a virginity
pure as that which the white man seized from the red
Indian’s hand. In this wild park Flora holds court,
and beneath the boughs of chestnut, oaks, hickory,
maple, beech, birch, dogwood and hemlock are gath-
ered clumps of laurel, sumach, mammoth ferns, and all
the wood plants and wood flowers of the whole region.

It is a paradise of wood insects, too. The large black

Pennsylvania carpenter ants march in columns along
426

NATURE’S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 427

the great tree trunks, at whose roots heaps of chippings
lie, showing the industry of the busy woodworkers
within. The Fuscous ants (Formica fusca) here deliv-
ered from the taint of slavery to their Sanguine or
Shining Masters, take on an air of forest freedom and
build broad mounds fearless of remark instead of
skulking within hidden dens; beetles, crickets and
numberless other insects push a thousand trails under
the fallen leaves and branches. :

Here Arachne has gathered many children as into
a safe nursery. The woods swarm with spiders,
whose webs of varied sorts and sizes hang from limbs,
stretch over the water, overlace roots, rocks, crevices,
hollow trunks, leaves and logs, and extend from branch
to branch across every opening, flapping their sticky
filaments in the passer’s face. How often have I gone
to this resort, when anxious to collect a specimen or
verify or complete a study of aranead habits, confi-
dent that somewhere in this narrow belt of forest my
search would be rewarded !

At the point where the wagon trail leaves the woods
the creek runs close along the mill road, then gradu-
ally hugs the opposite hillside, leaving a narrow strip
of fiatland. It is bordered by a fine row of trees
which overhang the water. The proprietor has an
admirable peculiarity for an American. Some _ kind
genius has written deeply upon the fleshy tablets of his
heart the well known plea, ‘‘ Woodman spare that
tree !’—written so deeply, that he will never allow
one tree to be cut down if there is any possible way to

428 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

avoid doing so. At the end of this row of trees the
creek and road make a sharp angle or horse-shoe bend,
and bring into view the Franklin Mill. It is a large fine
stone structure, set close against the hill and flanked
on either side by pretty stone cottages for the work-
men. The proprietor’s mansion sets upon the crown
of the knoll and overlooks the whole pleasing scene.

It would be hard to find a mill site more charming
and romantic than this. The overhanging trees flushed
with the growing hues of autumn ; the rippling music
of the ereek, as it issues adown the deep ravine,
mingling gradually with the thud of water-wheels and
clatter of machinery ; the shout of a merry group
of children jumping the rope before a cottage door ;
the sun lying warm and bright in tlie lap of the beauti-
ful glen shut in from all. sights and sounds of the
outside world—surely the venerable, kind-hearted pro-
prietor who looks on such a scene from his house
on yonder hummock, must feel that the lines have
fallen to him in pleasant places !

We had taken this walk one day over the withering
autumnal fields, among the rustling leaves, through
the smell of wood-mold—how sweet to the forester !—
along the beetling banks of shady Crum Creek, for
the purpose of seeing the process of paper-making.
Our next Conversation touched those natural paper-
makers, the wasps; and some of our circle wished to
draw a comparison—or willit be a contrast ?—between
the human and the insect methods. We are not to

lead our readers through the details of the process as

e

NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS, 429

pointed out to us by my friend and landlord Mr.
Howard, although that might be new, and certainly
would be interesting to many. It will suffice that
the mode consists substantially in reducing vegetable
fibre of wood, straw, cotton, hemp or flax into pulp,
from which the moisture is excluded and the residium
exposed to a pressure that reduces it to flat sheets.
The quality, surface condition and size of sheets are
matters quite apart from this essential process.

Somewhat thus I briefly stated the results of our
visit to the mill, at our conversation. ‘‘ Have I put
it correctly, Mr. Howard ?”’ I asked, for that gentle-
man, hearing what subject was to come before us, had
asked leave to attend. :

‘** Yes, that is about the substance of paper-making,”’
was the reply. ‘“‘It seems a very simple one, as you
put it, sir ; but—there’s a whole sea of trouble between
that brief statement and even such a result as this ??—
laying his hand upon our manilla illustration paper.
‘** However, you have hit the fundamental principle of
the thing pat enough.” |

** Very well, that is all I care to do. Now, here is
a wasp’s nest (Fig. 137.) It was collected from the
premises of the old Springfield Central school, where
our friend, Miss Abby, is now engaged. The plain,
square, two-story building, as you know, stands in an
open, flanked by a grove of more than a score of tall
oak-trees. The branches of these oaks are thickly
colonized. by ringed wasps —‘‘ Tailor wasps,’’ I find

they are called by the country-side people. On one

430 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

FIG. 137.—NEST OF THE RINGED OR RUST-RED WASP (POLISTES
ANNULARIS.)

tree I counted thirteen nests, and I am quite sure that
more were hidden among the leaves. Every tree is
occupied, and several nests are hung upon the black-
berry vines that skirt the fence close by the wall.
Thus, while some of the wasps swing their domiciles
far aloft, fifty or sixty feet above ground, others
choose sites nearer terra firma. This indifference as
to location is more or less evident among those who,
like the famous Swiss Robinsons, build their houses
in trees, for the nests are scattered indifferently
throughout the branches, one of the largest which I
have seen being pendant from a limb that bends quite

NATURE'S FIRST PALER MAKERS. 431

low. The colony has occupied the school-house
grounds for at least a half-century, for men who were
boys that long ago remembered them well. JI fancy ~
that exposure to the raids of destructive boys during
all these wasp-generations has not been without effect
upon the insects, for most of the nests are placed well
out of reach. Indeed, one wonders that any mother-
wasps could be found so far freed from a strain of
hereditary caution as to venture a location within
reach of puerile projectiles. :

‘‘Tt is an interesting sight to observe the worker
wasps gathering material for their nests, and it may
be seen on any summer day along the lines of fences
near the school-house. I have often tried to keep a
worker under observation for a prolonged period, but
have failed beyond a few consecutive moments. The
creature is a perfect embodiment of restless activity. It
alights upon a weather-beaten spot, and, bending down-
ward its head, plies its strong jaws until a bit of wood
is dislodged. Meanwhile, its wings are kept in a state
of continual agitation, its abdomen curves and vibrates,
and sometimes is turned up at an angle of 45°. Its legs
are incessantly lifted and set down, but stiffened out
at the moment of dislodging the wood as they are
braced for a strong tug. By the time one has well
fixed his eyes upon the palpitating creature, it has
spread its wings and is away. I follow it at full
speed. Once more it alights; it has struck a good
spot for collecting material surely !—a fine, whitish,
weather-worn patch of wood whose fibres are exposed.

432 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

This must be a real bonanza for the wasp! But not
She glides over the rail with fluttering wings, and is
off to another place. Her actions, the reasons that
seem to determine her choice and final decision are as
incomprehensible to me as the proceedings of ladies
when on a shopping expedition.

*‘ At last, however, she has gathered a little ball of
wood-fibre ; she throws herself back upon her two
pairs of hind-legs, and standing thus in a semi-erect
posture, like a squirrel eating a nut, she adjusts the
pellet to her jaws with her fore-paws and _ flies
away with it to the nest. This is fastened to the
branches by a central stalk which is firmly tied and
pasted on. The stalk is usually directed upward, or
somewhat inclined, so that the mouth of the cells is
downward. The bottom parts of the cells are thus
upward, and as they are united and covered with a
paper floor the whole series forms a sort of hanging
platform. On this platform s bevy of wasp-workers
may usually be seen engaged in chewing up the woody
fibres into pulp, or preparing wax for the cell-covers,
or erinding up ‘pap’ for the baby grubs. When the
pulp is —prepared it is pasted in thin flakes on the
ledges of the cells, and spread and shaped chiefly by
the action of the mandibles, although somewhat aided
by the feet. A secretion from the salivary glands of
the wasp, which corresponds with the ‘sizing’ used
by paper manufacturers, helps to bind the fibrous
pulp into a compact mass that quickly hardens into a

rude but efficient papier mache.

NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 433

“ The nests are circular or oval in shape and of vari-
ous sizes. This specimen is seven inches in diameter,
and I haye seen one at least one-half larger. The size
is determined by the number of young, for each of these
cells contains a single larva.”’

** Tell us, please, how the nest begins,’’ said Abby.
**Do the wasps live through the winter ?”’

‘* No; the workers all die with the frost; but a few
of the females survive the winter. They hide in cran-
nies : for example, under the eaves of your schoolhouse |
roof, or other sheltered places, and live through the
cold months in a torpid state. The warmth of spring
summons them from their retreats, and they at once
begin the foundation of a family. Having chosen a
site they proceed to build a few cells in which they
place eggs that in time become larve. These are fed
by the mother until ready to pass into the pupa stage,
when the cells are sealed up, and so remain until the
perfect insects emerge. The first born are workers,
and at once take upon them the labors of the colony,
leaving the queen to her proper duty of furnishing
eggs, The nest grows by the addition of cells along the
outer margin, into each of which as finished an egg is
placed. The old cells also appear to be used, being
cleaned out. and again furnished with eggs as soon as
the younglings are fairly out of the way. Thus the
last baby waspling falls heir to the cradle of its prede-

cessor, as is often the case with our own infants.”’

** What-are these snow-white caps that cover so many
of the, cells ?’’ asked the Mistress. ‘‘I notice that

434 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

some of the cells are without them—these along the
edges.”

‘The white caps are the ‘seals’ placed upon the
cells when the larve spin into pupz. Observe that
many of these caps are quite cut around the edges,
showing that the young wasps have cut their way out.
This specimen was gathered late in the summer, and as
it lay upon a table in-‘my library I could now and then
‘hear. the rasping of the wasps’ mandibles as_ they
gnawed the seal away, and ever and anon would see a
youngling creep out of a cell by pushing up the cap
like a lid, and then feebly crawl off and_ stretch its
wings. But most of the inmates died. within the cells.
Perhaps the dry, warm air of my study was unfavora-
ble to their escape, or they may have needed the jaws

of their nurses to aid their egress.”
‘* Are these caps made of paper, too?” asked Hugh.

‘““No, they are in part a covering which the larvee
themselves spin, and in part, probably, a sort of wax,
secreted and applied by the workers, very much as
with the wax-workers among bees. I leave you now to
study the habits of these ringed wasps for yourselves,
when next summer comes, and turn to another insect
belonging to the same group of social wasps. Here is
a hornet’s nest, the most famous of our American

paper-makers— Vespa maculata.”

The specimen, which had been secured by the ener-
getic search of Joe and Harry, was eighteen inches
long and a foot in diameter at the thickest part. It was
a pear-shaped structure, whose bulkier end was placed -

PA MACULATA.)

PGVES

NET

N HOR

Fic. 138.—NEST OF AMERICA

436 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM. |

upward as it hung from a strong branch that was
quite wrapped around, and indeed had been somewhat
overlaid by the layers of paper which formed the
external envelope. At the bottom of the nest was a
round opening which formed the only entrance to the
interior (Fig. 138). A second specimen, a little smaller,
Thad cut quite in two by a longitudinal slit, thus ex-
posing the entire structure of the nest. |

‘** Here we may see the whole cunning workmanship
of this active insect. You observe that the outer walls
have been laid on in several layers or sections, more or
less regular, and are composed of a strong, coarse gray
paper. The partition walls are united at various
points, leaving a great number of oblong air-cham-
bers.”’ (Fig. 139.)

‘‘ Is the paper weather-proof ?”? asked Abby.

‘* Try it,’? I said. A pitcher of water and a dish-pan
were brought, and after various experiments it was
found that the water rolled freely from the roof, which
scarcely absorbed the moisture and left the interior
quite dry.

‘*That is truly excellent,’? remarked Aunt Hannah.
**T wonder that some enterprising genius has not bor-
rowed a hint from the hornet and gone to building
paper houses.”’

‘* And why not ?”’ said the Manufacturer. ‘ We are
utilizing paper more and more freely in the civilized
arts, and have got even as far as to make railway car-
wheels out of it! Paper tiles or roofs, or even walls
may surely be considered a possibility.”’

NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 437

‘‘ Very well,’? I resumed ; “‘ when that triumph is
achieved let us moderate our human vain-glory at least.
so much as to remember that the hornets had by some
milleniads the priority of man. Now, look at the in-°
side furnishing of this nest. Here are six separate
circles, terraces or stories of hexagonal cells arranged
one above another, and united by tough paper stalks or
pillars, which are placed at or near the center. Other
similar columns are distributed at sundry points along
the floor, thus contributing to its support; they are |
formed of long fibres, and broaden out at each end,
where they are attached above and below. Each one
of the combs, as they are called, resembles the nest of
the ringed wasp, which, you see, differs from the
hornet in always building a single comb and never
enclosing it within walls.”

‘* Why is this difference ?”? asked Abby.

» © Ah! who will tell us? Ihave never been able tc
think of any reason based upon the idea of protection
or any other probable necessity which conditions the
hornet’s life, but from which the wasp is free. It is
one of those strange facts which mark the distinct in-
dividuality of closely allied species, in accordance with
the infinite variety seen in nature, and for which no
apparent reason can be assigned.”’

‘* Except, perhaps,’ suggested Aunt Hannah, rever-
ently, ‘‘ that infinite wealth of thought and skill which
one must think to be the natural outcome of an Infinite
Creative Mind.”’

‘* A: just remark, Aunt Hannah; but whatever ex-

438 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

planation be suggested, the facts are sufficiently inter-
esting. Ifyou look again at this open nest you will see
that the combs increase in size from the top to the
center and then gradually decrease until this last of the
series, which is a very small affair. The insect, of
course, began its nest at the top, and built downward,
having just commenced this lower comb when the work
of the colony was forever stopped by Jack Frost. This
process, you observe, is the reverse of our human
modes of building, and probably will never be adopted
by us, notwitstanding the ingenious proposal of the
Laputan philosopher mentioned in ‘Gulliver’s Trav-
els’ to imitate this peculiar feature in the hornet’s
architecture by building the garrets of every house first,
and then gradually working downward to the lower
stories and cellars !”’

The laugh which this quaint conceit awakened was
interrupted by a remark from the Manufacturer :

‘*T believe we do sometimes follow the hornet’s order,
in sub-aqueous architecture, for example, as when we
build a bridge pier in mid-stream by caissons. Another
example is found in the famous subterranean struc-
tures of Rome, known as the Catacombs, which served
the primitive Christians not only as cemeteries but as
homes and temples as well. But—excuse me !—I do
not wish to play the part of Guiliver’s philosopher, ”’

‘‘ Have I not heard some such theory applied to the
building of the Pyramids ?”? asked Abby. ‘I do not
recall the details, but the author starts out with a quo-

tation from Herodotus who cites a rumor or tradition

we

SHOWING THE

NEST,

N
OMBS

Fie. 139.

INTERIOR OF HOR

99

?

C

‘

$e

9

48

440 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

that the great Egyptian edifices were begun at the

summit and builded downward. Whether the notion

were broached by asavant, a hobbyist or a crank, I do
not remember, but it surely has a modern advocate
somewhere.’’

Here Sarah ventured an observation :

‘““T don’t wonder at sich a pesterin’ inseck as a
hornet buildin’ its house top eend fust, or any other
contrary way. Fer my part I don’t want em buildin’
round me nohow! It’s certain bad luck to have ’em
make ther pesky nests in one’s house, an’ foret lls
that the family 711 be sure to come to want. Id jest
like to have the hull lot here in one good bunch; I’d
chuck ’em into the stove and be done with ’em !””

‘““Hi, Sary Ann, dat’s no good!’’ exclaimed Dan,
whose tongue was unloosed by the remarks of his
kitchen familiar ; ‘‘Dat’s no good at all. Hit’s no
sort of conjurin’ to kill de common brood wen dey’s
growed up. But dar’s a powerful difference wen it
comes to the fust wasp ob de season. Hit’s mighty
good luck to kill dat un, I kin tell ye.”

‘Well, then, tell us, won’t you,’’ responded Sarah,
with some tartness ; ‘‘ there hain’t no wisdom sittin’

ther a-rollin uv your head an’ turnin’ up your eye-balls.”’ ’

‘‘Sary Ann,’’ answered Dan, ‘‘ dar’s folkses wat has
waspish tempers and a hornet’s stinger fer a tongue—
but dat’s needer hvur nor dar. Wat I saze is dat hit’s
good luck to kill de fust wasp ob de season, kaze it
foretells freedom from all enemies fer dat year, shore,
Dat’s all!”

NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 441

Sarah was not disposed to yield the point, especially _
as she was smarting under Dan’s keen thrust. .
‘* Pshaw !”? she exclaimed, ‘‘ You culled pussons
allez build your idees like a hornet does it’s nest,
upside down. Wat I’ve heern tell is that the very
sight in the house uv the fust wasp uv the season, let
alone killin’ uv it, is sure to bring bad luck. It’s a
sign uv an onpleasant ’quaintance, and ther’s no good

luck in that, I’m sure !”

The cook rattled her knitting needles vigorously,
and shot a triumphant glance at her venerable an-
tagonist.

But Dan was not to be suppressed thus. Revolving
on his cricket, he turned full toward the kitchen door,
and assuming a demure expression and subdued tone,
replied : :

‘* Now den, Sary Ann, I ’low yo’s rignt dis time. I
gibs up de pint. I done remember, jes now, dat one
tickler yaar I was so onlucky as to see de fust wasp ob
de season ; dar was two ob dem in fac’. An’ dat was
de berry yaar I fust hab de honor to make yo’ ’quen-
tance, Sary Ann! Ya-as, I guess yo’s right dis time.”’

He resumed his position on the cricket with a
solemnity that was not disturbed by the general mer-
riment of our party. The Mistress, however, was
plainly not amused. Her face was flushed and drawn
into lines of disapprobation, as she turned upon me a
glance of remonstrance. Indeed, it was only in the
face of many protests that I had been able to carry my
purpose to keep the room on Conversation. Nighis a

442 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

‘* Liberty Hall,’’? wherein all should be held equal and
encouraged to the utmost freedom, With most of our
domestic circle there had been no embarrassment, but
Dan and Sarah had such an irrepressible tendency to
carry their kitchen sparring into the conversations
that the good housewife was often shocked.

“Tt will quite overturn my domestic discipline,” she
affirmed ; ‘‘and destroy all dignity in our relations
with the household helpers. It is preposterous to allow
Sarah and Dan such liberties !”’

However, this course seemed to me the only one to
evoke the peculiar notions that I wished to reach, and
which come only with perfect freedom. So the Mistress
yielded with what grace she could, although her pa-
tience was sometimes sorely tried, as on this occasion.
Perhaps, I may here say that the good wife’s predic-
tions were not fulfilled, for the spirit of our Liberty
Hall evening never seemed to invade the ordinary ser-
vices of the house and farm. But this may suffice for
apology.

‘We have not quite finished the natural history of
the hornet,’? I resumed. ‘‘ Almost as soon as the first
cells are formed in the early spring, the building of
the nest-covering is commenced. At first it has the
appearance of .a miniature umbrella, but as the cell-
work grows it is expanded and drawn downward until
it quite encloses the combs, The larve, of course, from
the reversed positions of the cells, live head downward,
and this posture they are said to retain by means of a
gummy secretion at first, and afterward by the swollen

NATURE'S FIRS? PAPER MAKERS 443

front of the body which fills the open part of the cell.
At all events, the little heads are conveniently placed ~
for the nursing workers, who move over the surface of
the comb pressing into open baby mouths the nourish-
ing ‘pap’ which has been prepared for them by the
very primitive mode of chewing.”’

‘* Does thee know what sort of food this hornet pap
is composed of ?’? asked Aunt Hannah.

‘*It is probably the juices of insects for the most
part. The proper food of hornets, wasps and other
Vespidz is somewhat in doubt. In spring and early
summer they feed on the sweets of flowers, but later
in the season develop a taste for fruit, and attack
strawberries, plums, grapes, pears — even entering
houses to help themselves to dishes on the table. But
they are carniverous in their appetite also; they will
eat raw meat, as you may see by visiting our village
butcher shops. They are insectiverous, too, and carry
war into the insect world, their weapon not being their
sting as with their relations the Mud-daubers and
Digger Wasps, but their formidable jaws. They fall
upon flies and butterflies, bite off their wings, feet
and head and devour the trunk. They even destroy
honey-bees, assailing them on their return from the
fields laden with pollen. They throw themselves upon
their victims, tear the abdomen from the thorax and
-and suck its contents. I have known persons who
have turned this insect-devouring propensity of hor-
nets to good purpose by hanging one of their nests in

a house much infested by the common house fly, from

444 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

which, I have been told, they soon make a thorough
riddance of the annoying insects.”

This touched upon Sarah’s department, and she ex-
pressed her interest by saying: ‘‘I kin vouch fer part
of them facts, anyway. The hornet’s do ketch flies,
Pll say that much for the pesky critters. I’ve often
seen ’em pitch through the kitchen winders like mad,
bounce upon the flies and clear away with them. But
lawsamassy, ther haint no one goin’ to get out a patent
on that kind uva fly trap! Fer who’d want sech a
reglar hostyle sallyport es that around, I’d like to
know ? I reckon the remedy ’d be wuss ’n the cure.’

‘IT can’t speak from observation,’’ I responded, ‘‘ but
I have been told that the experiment brought no incon-
venince ; that as long as the hornets were not meddled
with, they molested no one. This much I can say, »
that in my numerous field excursions, I have never
been meddled with by the stinging insects except when
I gave them some provoking cause. However, I have
no zeal to prove the usefulness of the hornet or press
it into duty as a servant of man. But we wander from
the point which I started to explain concerning the
food of wasps. It is an open question with entomolo-
logists whether all the insect food thus captured is used
for the nurture of the larvee, or whether it is partly
appropriated to the creatures’ own use. Ido not ven-
ture an opinion on the subject.”’

‘‘ They do say,’? remarked Hugh, returning to the
point of usefulness, ‘‘ that the smoke of a burned hor-
net’s nest is useful. I’ve heerd horsemen say that it ’s

Fic. 140.—WaAsp’s NEST WITH TUBULAR ENTRANCE,
: (ONE HALF NATURAL SIZE.)

445

446 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

good fer distemper, but I never tried it myself. Ther’s
a sayin’ too, w’ich I larnt w’en a boy that they ’re
weather-wise and kin foretell w’at kind of a winter
we’re goin’ to hey. It runs this a-way:
‘If hornets build low,
Winter storms and snow ;

When hornets’ nests hang high,
Winter mild and dry.’

Howsomever, I reckon ther’s not much in that fore-
cast, kase the varmint seem to take it pretty much as it
comes, some high, some low, in the same season. I
don’t count so much on them sort uv sayins as I used
to; though insecks is powerful wise critters in many
things, I allow.”’

‘‘ Are the hornets spoken of in Scripture (Josh., 24,
12, Deut. 7, 20) the same insects as ours ?”’ asked Aunt
Hannah,

‘“The Bible hornet is probably the common Euro-
pean species, Vespa crabro. It is quite like our own
species in habits, but prefers to build in a hollow tree
or similar site. It has been naturalized in America,
and’I have specimens of its combs from New Jersey.
- But our evening is quite worn away, and we must close
this Conversation. Before we do so, however, I call
your attention to this pretty nest, which somewhat re-
sembles the hornet’s. It is much smaller, being about
the size and shape of a Bartlett pear. I found this spe-
cimen in a low bush by the roadside just beyond our
farmhouse. Its chief peculiarity is this tube about half
an inch in diameter which forms the entrance or vesti-

NATURE'S FIRST PAPER MAKERS. 44%

bule to the nest interior. The tube varies in length—
I have seen one six inches long. I know nothing of
the habits of the little architect, but greatly admire the
skill with which it shapes its paper nursery and domi-
cile.”? (Fig. 140).

Good-nights were then said, and as our friend the
Manufacturer left he expressed a hearty satisfaction
and pride in his mute fellow-craftsmen of the insect
world, and gave a warm invitation to visit his mill, and
compare his methods of paper making with that of the
wasps and hornets. The invitation, by the way, was ©
accepted, and the whole party had the pleasure of
making a tour of the factory under the personal conduct
of the proprietor. The visit had an interest which was
much keener and more intelligent because of our even-
ing companionship with Nature’s first paper makers. _

CHAPTER XXII.
NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS,

AS I close these reminiscences I find myself wonder
ing on what principle the subjects here presented haye
been selected ? Somewhat at haphazard, no doubt.
I am sure, at least, that the Conversations which
I have written out by no means embrace the most
interesting material. But where all is so full of in-
terest, who will criticise my choice or censure my
omissions ? When I look over my notes I see among >
the themes which engaged us such as these: ‘* The
Carpenter’s Company ’’—relating to wood-working in-
sects, as the Carpenter ants and bees ; ‘‘ The Venerabie
Order of Undertakers,’’ relating to the burrowing
beetles and necrophagous insects ; ‘*‘ The Ancient
Mariners,’’ who gave us a pleasant evening with water
insects ; ‘* Living Lamps,”’ such as the lightning-bug
and glow-worm ; ‘‘ Insect Pets and Domestic Herds ;”’
‘‘Kidnappers and Slaves,’’ a story of the slave-mak-
ing ants; ‘¢Squatter Sovereignty,’? the mysterious
history of insect parasitism; ‘‘ The Tyrant of Two
Elements,’’ a history of dragon-flies 5 ‘‘ The Sumuiner
Tourist’s Pest,’? an account of the musquito and its
allies ; ‘* The Evolution of a Silk Gown,” which can-

vassed the life of the silk-worm. ‘These are a few of
448

NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 449

our subjects; I will enlarge the list no further lest
some unpitying publisher should be enamored of it,
and lure me to write another book! The Conversa-
tions were prolonged far into the summer, and had a
new element of interest in the fact that we could
follow our insect friends to the fields and ply our study
of their curious habits there.

At last the time came to close our pleasant con-
ferences. The prescription of the medical man had
this time, at least, wrought a cure. Rest, change of
scene and habit, life in the pure country air, gave tone
to shattered nerves, and brought once more the joy of
health. Our year’s lease of the Old Farm expired as
the golden days of October fell upon the landscape.
fé was not without pain that we bade adieu to our
rural friends and returned to the city. Our hearts
had sent out many strong rootlets around the Old
Farm which we were loth to break. -But we left new |
tenants in the dear old place, and that comforted us.
Shall I tell who the tenants are ?

Love, which breaks through iron bars, can prevail
even over the stronger barriers of religious prejudice.
It was long before Aunt Hannah gave way, but at last
she bowed to the inevitable, and Penn Townes married
Abby Bradford. It was agreed that Penn would not
forsake the Meeting, even though he should be ‘‘ turned
out,’’ and that was some mitigation of the good
woman’s trial. There was one condition which the
Mistress and I had named that was at length conceded.
The young people were married at the Old Farm just

450 THNANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

before we ceased to be its Tenants. Dr. Goodman
officiated, and a happier evening never brightened
within the venerable walls than. that which saw the
consummation of so fitting a union.

A voice at my side has just said: ‘* Tell them some-
thing about all the rest, dear. People do love to hear
what becomes of the folks in whom they are in-
terested ?”’

It is the Mistress who speaks, older in years, indeed,
but young as ever—younger than ever in the vigor and
charm of that love whose devotion is the sweetest re-
membrance of those invalid days at Highwood.

Well, then, for the Mistress’ sake, if not for the
reader’s, I will write the chronicle, which is neither
long nor eventful.

The last time that I visited the Old Farm was to
attend a ‘‘house-warming,’’ given on the occasion of
Penn Townes entering into possession of the place,
which he had bought. Thus, after years of alienation,
it had come back to the family who reclaimed it first
to civilization. The event was an auspicious one, and
well deserved celebration. What a royal time we had
with kindred and neighbors, old and young!

Abby, grown quite matronly, presided with that
characteristic animation which marked her earlier
years. Her fine brood of younglings thrive in the
country air. The oldest bears the name of Hannah,
a peace offering, or, perhaps, I should say a thank-
offering to good Mother Townes. The second, a sturdy
lad, is proud to be called Fielding Maytield Townes ;

NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 451

and somewhere in the series there is a little blue-eyed
Kate, a namesake of the Mistress.

‘“'Was Penn cut off from membership for marrying
out of Meeting ?”’

No; he is still ‘“‘in good standing,’’ at least in so
far that he has not been formally ‘‘ turned out.’’? But
if you ask me why, I can give you no light beyond the
facts ; perhaps the subject is still under consideration
by the Society. Be that as it may, there are few more
regular worshipers at the Springfield Meeting House |
than Penn Townes, and when family duties will allow,
Abby finds great pleasure in accompanying her hus-
band, especially as the traditional ‘‘ scuttle ’’ bonnets
bave long since been eschewed by the younger women
Friends. The elder children also are sometimes taken ;
but such fidgeting as attacks the dear bairns during the
solemn quietude that often pervades the Meeting is
pitiful to see. To the mind of some of the stricter
Friends, it seems something very like a temptation of
the Adversary. But the major part, perhaps correctly,
attribute it wholly to Friend Abby’s stirring Yankee
blood.

Hugh has left the tenant house and occupies a farm
of his own. Jenny lives at home, a soldier’s widow.
Joe marched off Southward in the rebellion days with a
‘‘Springfield rifle’? on his shoulder—that weapon, by
the way, was not named after our old Quaker Meeting-
house—and returned with a major’s golden leaf upon
his shoulder-straps. And weil he deserved the honor,
his comrades all declare. Harry went into my count-

452 “TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

ing-house, and some day soon will be the head of the
firm. He developed a strong taste for entomology, is
an active member of the Academy of Natural Sciences,
and a good authority in the American Hymenoptra.

“Tell them what became of Sarah,’’ the Mistress
said, prompting me as I paused in my narrative. ‘In
spite of her superstition and sharp tongue, I am sure
she has some friends among your readers. ”’

Oh, to be sure. There isa spice of romance in her
story, too. Sarah’s ‘matrimonial wentur,’ as she was
wont to call him, turned up at last, and despite his
long desertion, was welcomed and received by the faith-
ful cook. Tom had been a member of a Colorado bat-
tery during the war, had saved most of his wages,
gathered no end of good sense by his experience, and
being thoroughly homesick, came back East. He
found Sarah still officiating in the Old Farm kitchen
under the new regime and the two ‘tuk up agin’,’ te
use the quaint phrasing of the country-side. When
Hugh vacated the tenant-house, the re-mated pair
moved in, and there they dwell. Sarah has learned .
something as,well as Tom, and carries a less waspish —
tongue than in earlier days. JTlowever, she has never
given up her fancy for the conch-shell, and winds its
rude notes at noon and evening with a never-failing
gusto.

‘‘Old Dan now,’’ said the Mistress, ‘‘ You musn’t
forget him.”’

Forget old Dan? No! I have received too much

genuine comfort from that odd patriarch to omit him

NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS, 453

from this chronicle. I last saw him on the occasion
of the house-warming to which I have alluded. He
spends his summers at the Farm, as a sort of family
pensioner, and busies himself with such light chores
as he takes a fancy to. He was engaged that day in a
large potato field just across the lane in the congenial
work of killing potato beetles. The story of that ser-
vice is worth telling.

‘¢Mars Penn,’’ said Dan, ‘“‘ w’y doan yo do suthin’
_ mother to kill dem tater bugs ? Dat patch ’ll be clar |
cleaned out less yodo. Hit’s done ruined now, nigh-
amost.”’ :

‘“'There’s no use trying any more, Dan,’’ was the
answer. ‘‘I’ve spent already more time and money
than the whole field Il bring. I shan’t try any more.
The bugs are too much for us. Let the plaguey things
have the potatoes ; they ’re bound to, anyhow.”?

‘“Now den, Mars Penn, dat’s jess too bad,’ re-
sponded the negro. ‘‘Jess yo’ lem’me try em onct.
Gimme some Paris-green, and we’ll see w’at ole Dan’ll
do wid dem pesky critters. We’ll fix em yit! Ho,
ho! nebber seed de bug dat got ahead ob old Dan!
Eli ey 101?

The Paris-green was provided, and Dan was set to
work, more to satisfy him than from any hope that he
would be of real service. From that time on he gave
_ his undivided attention to the ‘‘tater patch.”’ Early
in the morning when the dew was on the field, he was
seen powdering the leaves of the infested tubers with
the poison, During the day he continued the assault

454. TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

with his tin pan, knocking the larve therein and bear- ©
ing away quantities to the kitchen door to become the
victims of boiling water, furnished by Sarah.

By-the-way, the two old antagonists still continue
their intellectual sparring and chafling, but withal
are very good friends. Many a tit-bit the cook saves
for the old man, and the warmest nook by the kitchen
stove is his. ;

As Dan went about his daily work of slaughtering
Colorado beetles, he kept up a running series of ejacu-
lations, mingled vauntings, and mild imprecations.
Often he laughed softly as he slowly moved along
crooning and talking to himself. The warfare with
the bugs had raised his spirits, evoking the element of
combativeness, and inspiring him with new vigor.
But age is telling sorely on him, and rheumatism has
added to the weight of years to bow his back very
much. I leaned upon the fence and watched and
listened to him as he approached the end of a row of
plants.

‘“Hi, den! ‘Yo’ jess go inter dat pan!’ knocking
off a score of insects, in various stages of development.
‘* Plenty of company dar, now, but not much to eat,
hey ? Well, Ill git you sumpin to drink, bymeby !
Ho, ho, ho! Tea?—no! ‘Tater soup ?—not much !
Yo’ got too much ob dat aready. Hot water, sah!
Bilin’ !—ho, ho! So yo’ thot Dan couldn’t circumwent
tater bugs? We'll see boout dat! Bugs ?—hi! I
knows a heap more’n yo’ tink boout dem, I kin tell yo’.
I done gradewated long go. Reglar colledge larnt—ho,

NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 455

ho, ho! Now, den, dat row’s done, and de pan’s
boout full. Take ’em off to Sary Ann. Mebbe she
want’s ’em for bug soup! Hi! House warmin’ ?
Yes, sah! I reckon ole Dan’ll give dese yur gemmin a
reglar old-fashioned one ; no mistake boout dat !”’

As he shuffled along, he gazed into the pan with a
radiant look, and skimmed the edges with his gray,
knobby hand to push back the crawling insects. ‘Thus
busied he was passing me quite unnoticed.

“Hello, there !’ I called.

Dan looked up suddenly, then hobbled up to the
fence, laid down the pan, and reaching out both hands
gave me a hearty greeting. But the reader will not be
concerned with our talk, and Ishall only state the issue
of the conflict with the beetles before bidding Dan
good-by.

‘*T sold a thousand bushels of potatoes off that field,’’
said Penn Townes, whom I met in the city one day the
next winter. ‘If it hadn’t been for old Dan’s deter-
mined fight, I wouldn’t have got as many as [I
planted.”’ |

The old man is living yet, and, for aught I know, is
fighting potato beetles on the Old Farm even while I
write these lines.

There is one more friend whose memory craves a
passing word. I drove one Sabbath day this summer
to the Marple Church, The birds were warbling in the
trees that skirt the churchyard ; the grasshoppers were
shrilling from the waving verdure that grows rank
among the graves; little children were wandering

*

456 TENANTS OF AN OLD FARM.

among the tombs in their bright Sunday dresses ; and
in one corner, close by the road, a rustic couple were
standing by two marbie stones, spelling out slowly the
inscriptions thereon. I drove my horse close to the
fence, and uncovering my head, joined the countryman
and his wife in their homage at the grave of Dr. Good-
man and his wife. Twin headstones, precisely alike in
form and finish, mark the respective places of rest, At
the top of the stone which marks the wife’s grave are

the words:
“THE MorRNING COMETH.”

In like position at the top of the Doctor’s monument is
the inscription :

‘¢A MORNING WITHOUT CLOUDS.’

The eye glances from one to the other, and the separate
mottoes read as one sweet, suggestive sentence, ‘‘ The
morning cometh ’’—‘‘ A morning without.clouds.”’

Even so, dear friends, even so be it for us all!

Beneath the beloved name of pastor, husband, father,
friend, is carved a text of Holy Scripture, never more
fitly used in the elegiac inscriptions of churchyard,
aisle and vault :

‘They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of
the firmament 3 and they that turn many to righteous-

ness as the stars for ever and ever.”’

{THE END.]

INDEX.

ABRONAUTIC flight of spiders, 140.

Auisopteryx pometaria, 112.

Ants, cutting, 230 sqg.; agricultural, 246; superstitions about, 247,
agricultural, 331; stinging, 335; undergrade road cf Formica
integra in Fairmount Park, 337; Solomon and ant; 340, 349; har-
vesting ants, 341; occident ant, 344, 346; Pennsylvania harvester,
348: carpenter, 426; fuscous and slave-making, 427.

— Agricultural ants, cutting grass, 331: cleared disks or pavements,
334; stinging ants, 335; ant clearing among weeds, 336; road-
making, 337; gathering seed, 342; granaries, 343; mode of eat-
ing, 345.

— Cutting ants, 230; males, females, and workers, 237; queen strips
off wings, 238; nests, 239; leaf-carrying, 243; mode of cutting,
244: head of. 245: opening formicary, 253; caves of, 255; leaf-
paper combs, 257; use of combs, 259; jaws or mandibles, 259:
trees attacked, 260; engineering skill, 263; underground routes,
264: closing gates, 266; opening gates, 267; gate engineering,
268: digging and dumping, 271; modes of destroying, 274.

~ Occident ants (Pogonomyrmex occidentalis), mound of, 344; gran-
aries and storerooms, 346; gathering seeds, 347.

Argiope argyraspis, cocoon, 35; snare, 37; decorations of web, 38.

Argiope aurantia, 14: description and distribution, 17; figure of-
snare and spider, 16; figure of cocoon, 21; cocoon, 30; name
derivation, 60.

Argyroneta aquatica, 207,

Apple-worm, 91, 94.

Atta fervens, 246.

BAG-WORMS, see Basket-worms, Thridopteryx Psychide.

Ballooning spiders, 195.

Basket-worms, superstitions about, 381; food plants, 384; specific
name, 384; figures of baskets, 385 sg.; seeking food, 387; mode
of attaching scraps, 388; manner of eating, 389; walking, 394;
protective habit, 397; wingless female, 398; mating, 399.

Beads, viscid, of spiders, 217.

Bee, humble, nest of, 145; history of, 145-184; see Humble-bee.

Bee, leaf-cutting, description, 406; species of, 406; nest-making
habits, 407; figures of nest, 409; furnishing the Gels; 411.

=

458 INDEX.

Bridges, spiders’, 192, 202; baby-builders, 204.
Butterfly, pupa, 50.

CAMPONOTUS PENNSYLVANICUS, 426, variety of C. herculaneus.

Canker-worm, 112, 114.

Carpenter ant, 426.

Caterpillars, tent-making, 421.

Cave men, 128.

Cave spiders, 134.

China-tree defoliateda by ants, 244, 261.

Cicada, figures of, 311; difference between, and true locusts, 312;
species, 313; musical organs, 314. ;

Cicada, life after transformation, 352; do. as larvee, 354; ovoposi-
tors, 355; eggs, 355, 361; egg nests, 357; injury done by, 360, 364;
not locusts, 361; young burrowing, 362; special instinct in descent
of, 364; living on roots, 365; life under ground, 366; advent, 367;
turrets, 368; enemies, 369; egress, 370; shells of, 371; literary
allusions, 372 sq.

Clisiocampa (genus), 421.

Clothes’ moth, 85.

Cocoons, use of, 66.

Codling moth, 92.

Crickets, noisy shrilling, 279; superstitions about, 28%, 289; white
cricket, 285; species of, 286; egg-laying. 286; transformation, 287;
house erickets, 289; habits, 290; black cricket, 291; music, 292,
299; injurious, 303; derivation of name, 303; combative, 304:
literary allusions, 305; cricket on the hearth, 306.

Cutting ant, 336 sq.

Cynthia moth, 58; cocoon, 63, 67.

Cyclosa turbinata, 32.

Cyrtophyllus conecayus, 302.

DEATH’S-HEAD moth, 77, 82.

ENGINEERING, insect, 185; of spiders, 192; cutting ants, 263.
Epeira conspicellata, sewed nest of, 403.

Epeira strix, 228, variety of E. ecornuta.

Ephemera, 353. j

Evolution, 150.

FLYING spiders, 192, 198.
Formica fusea, 427.
Formica integra, 337, variety of Formica rufa.

GARDEN spider, 200, 210.

Geometric spider, 210; how snare is made, 211.
Geometrid moths, 104, 108.

Grasshopper, 284, 294, 326,

INDEX. 459

Gryllus domesticus, 286 ; G. abreviatus, ete., 290; G. pennsylvanicus,
290; G. neglectus, 291.

HARVEST-FLY, 312.
Honey-bee, wax-workers, 170.

Hornet, mode of building nest, 486; exterior of nest, 435; nest in-
terior, 437; larve, 442; prey of, 443; superstitions about, 445.
Humble-bee, entrance to nest, 145; queen and workers, 153; nest
and cells, 159; mode of upholstering nest, 163-166; raising the
young, 168; enemies, 170; wax-workers, 176; mouth organs, 177;

regurgitating honey, 178; bee-basket, 180; leg of bee, 181.

Katy-DIbD, 284, 294; musical organs, 299; figure of, 301; nocturnal
insects, 302; development, 302; scientific name, 302; supersti-
tions about, 309.

“ Locusr’’ (so-called), see Cicada.
Locust, figures of, 511.
Looping caterpillars, 104.

MANDUCA ATROPOS, 81.

May-flies, 355.

Megachile centuncularis, 406, M. mendica.

Measuring-worms, 109.

Mole-ericket, 147.

Moths, polyphemus, 40 sq.; cecropia, 48 ; spinning organs, 49 ; cynthia,
53; Silk, name of, 61; superstitions concerning, 77 sq.; death’s-
head moth, 77, 82; clothes moth, 85; apple-worm moth, 92;
geometrids, 104; Tussock, 105; anisopteryx, 112; canker-worm,
112; orchard moth, 113; leaf-rolling, 413; eggs, 415; mode of
rolling leaves, 416; tent-making, 421.

Music, insect, 277, 294, 299.

NEMOBIUS VITTATUS, 291.
Nephila Wilderi, 60.
Notolophus leucostigma, 106.
Nomenclature, scientific, 58.

CECANTHUS NIVEUS. 286, 293.
Orb-weaving spiders, 200.
Orthoptera, characteristics, 284, 286.

PALEACRITA VERNATA, 112.

Parasol-ant, 243, 336.

Pheidole pilifer, 348, P. pennsylvanicus.

Philosamia cynthia, 52.

Phlegethontius quinque-maculata, 71.

Pogonomyrmex barbatus, 246, 333; P. occidentalis, 346,
Polistes annularis, 430,

460 INDEX.

Polyphemus moth, 40; larva, 41; cocoon, 42; pupa, 46; name, 61.
Potato-worm, 60; pupa, 70.
Propolis, 181.

SAMIA CECROPIA, 49.

Seventeen-year locust, see Cicada.

Sewing insects, 404; see Tailoring.

Skunk, raids bees’ nests, 170.

Sphinx moths, 69, 72.

Spiders, argiope aurantia, 14; webs spun over water, 25; collecting
specimens of, 27; baby spiders, 31, 139; snare of Cyclosa, 32
cocoons, ditto, 38; cocoon of argiope argyraspis, 85: spinning
organs, 49; tarentula arenicola, 129; turret spider, 131-141;
aeronautic, 140: suspension bridges, 192, 202; flying, 192; mount-
ing into air, 196; ballooning, 199, 228; orb-weaver’s snare, 200,
211-214; bridge lines, 202; baby bridge-builders, 204; water-
spider’s nest, 208; putting in radii and spirals, 214; spiral foun-
dations, 215; viscid beads, 216; Bruce and the spider, 218; super-
stitions about, 214; sewed nest of spectacle spider, 404; nest of
shamrock spider, 405 ; webs, 427.

Spinning organs of spiders and moths, 48.

TAILORING insects, 4025 insect sewing, 403; leaf-cutter bee, 406; leaf-
rolling moth, 415.

Tarentula arenicola, 129, or Lycosa arenicola.

Tent-making caterpillars, figures of moths, 421; ovipositing, 422°
tent-spinning, 423; processions, 424.

Thridopteryx Psychide, 384.

Tinea pellionella, 86 ;.T. pomonella, 93.

Tobaceo-worm, 69.

Tomato-worm, 69.

Troglodytes, 125.

Turret-spider, 150: nest and tower, 131; cotton-lined nest, 154; seek-
ing prey, 135; mother and cocoon, 187; baby spiders, 189; tower
with stone foundation, 141.

Tussoek moth, 105.

VANESSA, pupa of, 50
Vespa maculata, see Hornet.

Wasps, nest of ringed WasP; 430; nest site, 431 ; gathering wood, 432;
larvee, 433; cells, 4

Wax, bees’, 175.

Web, spider, how made, 218, 233.

Wilder’s Nephila, 60.

YELLOW jackets, 170,

TENANTS oF AN OLD FARM.

The following extracts from reviews show with what cordiality this
book has been received and how highly it is ranked.

Of Scientific Worth.

‘*Of special value, for we have in it
a popular account of scientific subjects
by one who has himself observed every-
thing he describes. The scientific state-
ments of the author are not only reliable,
but coming directly from nature they
still retain evidence of direct contact with
life, which is so sure to disappear with
too many repetitions.’’—Sczence.

‘*Embodies the result oi accurate and
minute observation, and cannot fail to be
of as much yalue as interest to working
naturalists.’ —Bost Christian Register.

Accurate and scientific information
embodying the results of the very latest
research in this deparment.’’—WNatzonal
Baptist, Phila.

~ Probably there is no one in America
who is better fitted to guide the young
in the study of his sphere of natural his-
tory. ’—Sunday School Times, Phila.

*-Of the highest order of interest. The
author has made studies and drawings of
the insects which can be found on any
old farm, and has made discoveries which
give him a high place among entomolo
gists.” —Chicago Advance.

** Dr. McCook is an enthusiastic nat-
uralist, and ‘n one particular branch of
study—that of the habits of ants and
spiders — stands as high as any living
writer. — Boston Evening Transcript.

**Mr. McCo_k has literally lived among
his pets, has studied them by day and by
night in their natural state, has not
scrupled to subject himself to their for-
midable stings, and has deemed no pains
too great to make the wo-ld acquainted
with insects upon which he looks with
a species of respectful veneration. He
is, in truth, a veritable enthusiast, and it
would indeed seem as though ants, bees
and wasps, all belonging to the same
order of insects. possessed a fascination
for the true naturalist far greater than
that excited by larger animals.’’— 7he
Westminster Review (British).

Attractive.

‘A charming account of a series of ex-
cirsions over woodlawn and meadow,
and is full of a great variety of informa-
tion about ali sorts and conditions of in
sects, written by a naturalist of acknowl-
edged authority.”’—Boston Post.

“Contains the results of a series of
parefully ~ondu-ted observations on diff-

erent species of insects. their dispositions
and habits. all of which are detailed in
such a familiar. winning style that no one
can fail to be fascinated with the study.”
—New York Observer.

** Delightful talks on the charscteris-
tics and habits of insects, the part thev
play in the economy of the animal and
vegetable world, the superstitions con-
nected witn them, and other points fitted
to arrest and hold the attention.”’—Zos-
ton A duertiser.

** Belongs toa class which might with
great profit take the place of much of the
literature. sentimental and otherwise,
which finds its way into the hands of our
children through Sunday Sckool and
other libraries. It is pleasantly written,
and beautifully illustrated with original
drawings from nature.’’—WVew York Ex-
aminer.

*“When one possesses the power of
vitalizing the bones of science as Dr.
McCcok does, there are few who will not
yield to the caarm.”—Vadle Literary
Magazine.

* Mr. Dan Beard has brightened it by a
great many comical adaptations. sketch-
ing spiders, ants and other dramatis
persone in keeping with his facetious
conception of their characters; while
the matter-of-fact natural history draw-
ings (of marked excellence) are by Mr.
Edward Shepard and Mr. Frank Stout”
[after the author’s sketches from na-
ure].—Boston Literary World.

Worth Having or Giving.

‘* The book is a beautiful one, and
would make a charming present to one
of scientific tastes.” ’_Chicagy Advance,

* Heartily recommended to the atten-
tion of all who are themselves interested
in natural history or are seeking some
means of interesting young friends in
this subject.’ ’_ Portland Fress, Me.

‘““We wish that our farmers. who are
giving their sons a Christmas present
would choose this book. It would heln
them to see many things to which they
may now be blind.”’—-Py, resbyterian, Phil-
adelthia.

“The scientific accuracy. the good
illustrations and simple descriptions make
it a valuable book for amateurs and a
good book of reference for advanced stu-
dents in that department of natural his-
tory. —Springfield Republican.

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