attack: one seizes by a leg, another by a wing, or perhaps there are two on each side confining or pulling its limbs while they maul and pummel its chest or bite its head. This maltreatment obliges it to unfold its tongue and disgorge its honey, which the robbers eagerly lap till they are satisfied, and then let their prisoner go*.

Wasps are also audacious robbers of bee-hives, and one wasp is said to be a match for three bees. This is partly owing to their reckless temerity or courage, for they will boldly encounter evident danger, and one wasp will fearlessly oppose a whole host of bees to filch a bellyful of honey t.

WHITE ANTS, OR TERMITES."

1

As the white ants (Termites) have a portion of their community expressly set apart for the duties of war, they may be expected to exhibit the most perfect form of insect tactics; and such, indeed, is the fact, though the details hitherto published by those who have had an opportunity of observing them are not so particular respecting many points as we could have wished. Upon making a breach in one of their castles a general alarm is excited amongst all ranks of the inhabitants; but the labourers, previously the most conspicuous, being incapable of fighting, immediately betake themselves to the interior, while the soldiers take their places. Immediately upon striking the wall, a soldier, probably a sentinel, starts out, walks rapidly over the breach to reconnoitre, and after ascertaining the nature of the danger threatened, retires to give the alarm. Upon this two or three more hurry out, and the intelligence spreading, the breach is soon filled with soldiers *Kirby and Spence, ii. 208. † Keys, p. 180. See Insect Architecture, p. 300.

rushing out to defend their citadel, which they do with indescribable fury. Apparently they can only direct their movements by feeling, though they do not spend much time in deliberating, but bite fiercely at every thing within their reach, and in their haste they frequently lose their footing and tumble down hill. In biting they frequently strike their forceps upon the wall, which makes a crackling noise somewhat shriller and quicker than the ticking of a watch, and this, which may be heard at the distance of several feet, the labourers within seem to understand, as they reply to it with a kind of hissing. "I one day," says Smith, "attempted to knock off the top of one of the hills with my cane, but the stroke had no other effect than to bring thousands of the insects out of doors to see what was the matter; upon which I took to my heels, and ran away as fast as I could." Others have had more courage than Smith to renew their attack, in which case the bustle and fury increase in a tenfold degree. If, in their rage, they come in contact with the hands or legs of their assailant, they make their mandibles meet through the skin at every stroke, and inflict considerable pain, while the blood from one of their wounds will stain the stocking to more than an inch in width. They never quit their hold, but will suffer themselves to be pulled limb from limb, without making any attempt to escape.

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"If, on the other hand," says Smeathman, "you cease to batter, in half an hour they retire into the nest, as if they supposed the wonderful monster that had battered their castle to be beyond their reach. The labourers, who had fled on the first alarm, are now seen hastening to repair the breach, every one with a burthen of ready-tempered mortar in its mouth. This they stick on to the breach with such wonderful celerity and order, that although thou

sands, nay, millions, seem employed, yet they never embarrass one another. While the labourers are thus engaged, the soldiers retire, save here and there one who saunters about, never touching the mortar. One in particular places itself close to the part undergoing repair; it may be seen turning leisurely on all sides, and every now and then, at an interval of a minute or two, lifting up its head, and with its forceps beating upon the building and making a vibrating noise, on which a loud hiss, apparently from the whole body of labourers, issues from withinside the dome and all the subterranean passages: that it comes from the labourers is very evident, for all these may be seen hastening at every such signal, redoubling their pace, and working as fast again."

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A renewal of the attack instantly changes the scene. 'At the first stroke," continues Smeathman, "the labourers run into the many pipes and galleries with which the building is perforated, and this they do so quickly that they seem to vanish, for in a few seconds all are gone, and the soldiers rush out as numerous and as vindictive as before. On finding no enemy they return leisurely into the hill; and soon afterwards the labourers appear loaded as at first, with soldiers here and there among them, who act in the same manner as before, one or other of them giving the signal to hasten the business. Thus the pleasure of seeing them come out to fight and to work alternately may be obtained as often as curiosity excites, or time permits; and it will certainly be found, that the one order never attempts to fight nor the other to work, let the emergency be ever so great *'

The furious valour and pertinacity of these soldierinsects present a serious obstacle to those who have *Phil. Trans. vol. lxxi.

the curiosity to explore the interior structure of their edifices, which is also increased by the mutual dependance of the walls and archways, and the activity of the labourers in building up with almost magical celerity the parts broken down. The soldiers, Smeathman tells us, "fight to the very last, disputing every inch of ground so well, as often to drive away the negroes, who are without shoes, and to make the white people bleed plentifully through their stockings. Neither can we let a building stand so as to get a view of the interior parts without interruption; for, while the soldiers are defending the out-works, the labourers keep barricading all the way against us, stopping up the different galleries and passages which lead to the various apartments, particularly the royal chamber, all the entrances to which they fill so artfully as not to let it be distinguishable while the work remains moist; and, externally, it has no other appearance than that of a shapeless lump of clay. It is, however, easily found, from its situation with respect to the other parts of the building, and by the crowds of labourers and soldiers which surround it, and which exhibit their loyalty and fidelity by dying under its walls. The royal chamber is often capacious enough to hold many hundreds of the attendants, besides the royal pair, and is always found as full of these as it can hold. These faithful subjects never abandon their charge, even in the last distress; for, whenever I took out the royal chamber, as I often did, and preserved it for some time in a large glass bowl, all the attendants continued to run round the king and queen with the utmost solicitude, some of them stopping at the head of the latter, as if to give her something*."

Phil. Trans. vol. lxxi,

WARS OF ANTS.

THE wars of ants have furnished a theme not peculiar to modern times, though it belongs to living naturalists to have traced many interesting circumstances respecting these, which could scarcely have been dreamed of, and would certainly not have been credited but upon the very high authority of the witnesses. One of the older records of an ant-battle is given by Æneas Sylvius, afterwards Pope Pius II., which was contested with obstinacy by a great and a small species, on the trunk of a pear-tree. "This action," he states, was fought in the pontificate of Eugenius the Fourth, in the presence of Nicholas Pistoriensis, an eminent lawyer, who related the whole history of the battle with the greatest fidelity." Another engagement of the same description is recorded by Olaus Magnus as having happened previous to the expulsion of Christiern the Second from Sweden; and the smallest species, having been victorious, are said to have buried the bodies of their own soldiers that had been killed, while they left those of their adversaries a prey to the birds*. Our readers, however, we are persuaded, will listen with more interest to some of the minutely circumstantial narratives of the chief historian of ants, the younger Huber. "If," says he, we are desirous of beholding regular armies wage war in all its forms, we must visit the forests in which the wood-ant (Formica rufa) establishes its dominion over every insect within the neighbourhood of the colony. We shall there see populous and rival cities, and regular military roads diverging from the ant-hill like so many rays from a centre, frequented by an immense number of combatants of the same species, for they are naturally * Mouffet, Theatrum Insect. 242.

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