THE ANTS, 



August. 



GORY battle has been fought in 

 the bath-room, and the field of 

 carnage is appalling to look 

 upon. For some days past, cu- 

 rious, crabbed-looking, reddish- 

 brown ants have been gathering 

 in a lump about the mouth of a 

 small hole in the floor. This 

 means always that a new colony is to be founded. I have 

 no objection to colonies in the abstract, but to see a teacup- 

 ful of crusty little brutes heaped up on the floor not a yard 

 from your tub has a tendency to make you feel uneasy, so 

 I endeavoured to discourage them by dashing the " tin pot " 

 full of water at them and sweeping the whole body away in 



