458 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[October, 
One bright summer morning, when the breezes 
whispered invitations to the lovers of nature to go 
fortn, I set out to visit a city of which I had often 
heard, but never seen. It was called Emmetville, 
and was situated under a maple tree in my own gar¬ 
den, a real, large, populous and prosperous town. 
At my approach I fortunately met one of the in¬ 
habitants, clothed in the reddish-brown uniform of 
her order, carrying a heavy burden. As she took 
great care of it, and seemed to consider it some¬ 
thing very valuable, I found she bad not time to 
talk to me ; but anxious to learn the habits of her 
tribe, I stopped and interrogated her. She was in 
too great haste to reply then, and said : “ I must 
take this home before I can rest.”—“ Will you let 
me carry it for you ?” I asked ; “ it is twice as 
large as you are. Why, how can you lift it?” 
“Ah ! ” said she, “ we Emmets are not such 
weak, feeble creatures as you are.” But she was 
really very tired now, and spoke very sharply : “ I 
am obliged to you, but do not give yourself any 
trouble ; there is another Emmet going home, and 
I will let her carry it for me.” The tiny creature 
took the load cheerfully and hastened away. 
“ Now, what do you wish to know ?” asked my 
new friend, eying me with quite a superior air.— 
“ Something about your customs,” said I. “ How 
do you live ?” 
“Much as human beings do. We build houses, 
raise crops, at least our Southern cousins do, keep 
cattle, fight battles, hold slaves, and ”— 
“ Slaves ! ” I exclaimed ; “ who are your slaves ? 
We have learned better than that; but your habits 
are more like ours than I supposed.”—“Of course,” 
said the emmet, looking scornful at my ignorance, 
“ our slaves are prisoners, taken in battle ; but we 
never treat them cruelly. They live almost as 
equals among us, save that they are not allowed to 
join our armies. There,” said she, “is one now,” 
pointing to a black emmet near us. 
“Well,” said I, looking at the little creature 
with much curiosity, “ you must pardon me for 
thinking your life a dull one. I am greatly inter¬ 
ested in it. But where arc your cattle ?” 
“ We will soon come to a pasture,” said my little 
guide. “ Of course, our cows are very unlike 
yours; they are smaller than we are, and we are 
so strong we can easily carry them around with us, 
which is more than your farmers can do, is it not ?” 
“ Yes, indeed,” said I, laughing at the thought 
of a man carrying his cows home under his arm. 
But we soon came in sight of the pasture, and 
what a spectacle 1 The pasture for this wonderful 
city was a single leaf, on which were grazing myr¬ 
iads of little cows. Most of them were light green, 
and others were brown. Still stranger, all had 
trunks, and some had wings.—“But how do you 
milk those remarkable cows ?” said I. 
“ Do you see two little tubes on the back of each 
cow, from which the milk, is obtained, if you 
choose to call it milk ? Some call it honey-dew, as 
it is very sweet, and we are all fond of it.”—Sud¬ 
denly my guide rushed excitedly from me into the 
midst of her flock, and I wondered if such conduct 
was one of the customs of this peculiar people. 
But I soon saw the cause of this commotion. An 
enemy had appeared among the peaceful herd. 
It was shaped somewhat like a lizard; was blue, 
with red spots on its back, and with its terrible 
jaws was devouring one of the winged cows. The 
little emmet, with the aid of several others that 
joined her, rushed at the enemy and, after a fear¬ 
ful struggle, drove it away. 
“ Were you not afraid,” I said to my companion 
on her return, “ that you would be injured by this 
monster?”—“There was no danger,” she replied; 
it eats nothing but our poor little cows. I lost 
three yesterday in the same way.”—“What was its 
name ?”—“ We call it coccinella; you call it Lady- 
Bug. This was a young one ; when grown, it will 
look very different. There is a full-grown one 
now ! But it cannot reach our pasture while our 
friends are guarding it.”—“Did you say the em¬ 
mets raised grain ?” 
“Well, we Northerners do not, but our Southern 
brothers do. They weed a large patch around their 
house, and sow wheat and corn. We like grain, 
but have to gather it for ourselves. When we get 
to our house, I will show you our granaries.” 
“ Few of your houses seem to be finished,” I re¬ 
marked as we went along; “ and pardon me, but 
where are the fine mansions of which you spoke ?” 
for, mentally, I regarded them quite behind the 
times, looking like Esquimaux huts. 
“ Wait until you enter one, before you form an 
opinion,” said my guide, rather sharply, as if she 
had guessed my thoughts.—“ But who live in 
them? Everybody seems to be in the streets.”— 
“ We all live in them, and those you see are only 
a few of our number. Our lords and ladies with 
their children are at home, you shall see them 
presently.”—“Have you lords and ladies, and what 
are you, please?”—“I am a worker,” said the 
emmet, seeming quite proud of the title.—“ And 
are all the workers of your sex ?” 
“ Yes; the fine gentlemen and their wives do 
nothing but amuse themselves, while we, spins¬ 
ters, do everything, even the fighting ; but 1 fancy, 
we lead more pleasant lives on the whole than the 
idlers do. But here we are, you will judge for 
yourself as to the beauty and convenience of our 
houses.”—The emmet then conducted us through 
a lofty passage-way or corridor, past rooms of sen¬ 
tinels, to a large room where the gauzy winged 
lords and ladies were lazily reclining, and as she 
was called away to attend to some household 
duties, I tried to talk to these fine people, but 
found them far less intelligent and entertaining 
than my worker friend. Like many of our people 
of high degree, they languidly referred to their 
noble origin, saying they belonged to the cele¬ 
brated Formica family, but they would tell me 
nothing of the manners and customs of their 
people, in whom I had become so much interested. 
Soon, however, my worker friend returned and 
showed me the nurseries. “ There,” said she, “ the 
babies of the fine ladies are taken care of, but they 
all have kind nurses, who are very fond of them.” 
She stopped and patted one or two of the queer 
little creatures, who were wrapped up iu their 
cradles after the Indian fashion. At length I was 
led by my guide into the granaries. “Some of 
our tribe,” said she, “keep their food and child¬ 
ren iu one room, but we are not so shiftless.” 
“ You seem to despise laziness ; now I understand 
why we were directed centuries ago to learn of 
you. — I suppose this is your winter store ?” (Prov. 
vi: 6; xxx : 25.) — “ Yes, some of it, though we rest 
and sleep most of the winter, but we work hard 
enough in the summer to make up for it. This is 
the first hour I have spent since the spring, and I 
must work harder than ever, now.” 
Thinking this was a hint for me to go, I asked 
my friend to conduct me out through the winding 
passages to the fresh air ; and as we went along 
the arched halls, I begged her pardon for speaking 
disrespectfully of the mansions. I had read of the 
wonders of fairy-land, but little dreamed that I 
should find them in my own garden. “ Good-bye,” 
said I to the little emmet. “ Many thanks for 
showing me these wonders.” 
“Good-bye,” said the busy worker, and hasten¬ 
ed away to her toil. 
I soon met a friend coming down the path in 
search cf me. 
“Where have you been,” said she.—“Visiting 
a great city,” I exclaimed, pointing to it. 
