HABITATIONS OF ANTS. 231 



ference, so as to increase the diameter in proportion to the 

 length ; then fresh material is added to the outer wall, which 

 is lengthened so as to include the new tier of cells ; and thus the 

 bottom is closed with a new floor (about half an inch distant from 

 the opening of the cells), which in its turn will become the 

 ceiling of the next storey. Each of the combs which thus rise 

 tier above tier in the cavity of the bell- shaped nest, has a central 

 hole, through which access is obtained to the uppermost stories 

 of the edifice ; and though darkness reigns within, yet such is 

 the instinctive order which prevails, that thousands move about 

 without one disturbing the other. 



The history of the wonderful domestic economy of the hive- 

 bee has been too often described, and is too well known to be 

 repeated here ; whole volumes have been written on the sub- 

 ject without exhausting its mysteries, many natural philoso- 

 phers have devoted half their lives to its study, and yet every 

 new observer finds occasion to point out some fresh marvel in 

 these wonderful annals. Indeed, the whole life of these little 

 creatures is nothing but a continued series of wonders. 



When we consider that the family of ants, undoubtedly the 

 most numerous of any in the whole circle of winged insects, 

 spreads in several thousands of species over almost every part 

 of the habitable globe, and that each species delights in its own 

 modifications of structure, we cannot wonder that the architec- 

 tural details of these insect-cities are but imperfectly known, 

 (particularly when we bear in mind that most of them are 

 situated in the wilds of the torrid zone, which are frequently 

 all but inaccessible to the naturalist, and that they are more- 

 over extremely well-guarded by the formidable mandibles or 

 pungent stings of their builders); yet from the little we do 

 know of them, there can be no doubt that they occupy a 

 high rank among those homes without hands, which animal 

 instinct rears as so many monuments of Divine goodness and 

 wisdom. 



Some form globular nests (of the size of a large Dutch-cheese) 

 of small twigs artistically interlaced ; others use cotton, and 

 through the chemical agency of their pungent secretions con- 

 vert it into a spongy substance. Other species, still more in- 

 genious, construct their domicile out of a large leaf, bending 

 the two halves by the weight of united thousands, till the 



