184 



THE ANT-HILL. 



but we checked the impulse; for perhaps, thought we, the 

 "still small voice," which speaks from all around us, is even 

 now whispering to her heart. But never, we believe, was adder 

 more deaf to the accents of the "charmer," than was Emily at 

 that moment to those of nature. Her mind, we are pretty 

 sure, was still running, and all the faster as she approached it, 

 on that fancy ball. Perhaps she suspected that ours was fol- 

 lowing the same turn, and knowing of old our habit of mak- 

 ing observations upon insects, she, by a little womanly artifice, 

 availed herself of it to divert their course. Pointing with her 

 parasol to a long procession of brown ants, which were cross- 

 ing the foot- worn area beneath the tree, "look," said she, 

 " I suppose they are going home to bed." 



" Or perhaps to a ball," rejoined we, quite unable to resist 

 the pleasure of taking our fair cousin in her own ruse / " but 

 let us follow them, and see." 



Emily was delighted at having, as she thought, so ingeniously 

 set us on our hobby, and attended us to the spot whither we 

 had traced the little labourers. Their populous settlement 

 bore no appearanae of evening repose. Other trains were ap- 

 proaching in various directions, to meet that which we had 

 followed, and a multitude was covering the conical surface of 

 the ant-hill, as if taking a farewell bask in the glowing sunset. 

 Amidst the congregated many, and distinguished from the 

 common herd by very superior bulk and four resplendent wings, 

 were several individual ants, which Emily (as well she might) 



