{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44377/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44377","id":"gutenberg_44377","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44377","summary":null,"tags":["Animals -- Juvenile literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Insects -- Juvenile literature","Natural history -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"[Illustration: UNCLE PHILIP TALKING TO THE BOYS.\n\n_J.&J. Harper. New-York._]\n\n\n\n\n  UNCLE PHILIP'S\n\n  CONVERSATIONS\n\n  with Young Persons.\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  NEW YORK\n  J. & J. HARPER 82 CLIFF ST^T.\n  1833.\n\n\n\n\n  NATURAL HISTORY;\n  OR,\n  UNCLE PHILIP'S\n  CONVERSATIONS WITH THE CHILDREN\n  ABOUT\n  TOOLS AND TRADES\n  AMONG\n  INFERIOR ANIMALS.\n\n  WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.\n\n\n  NEW-YORK:\n  PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS.,\n  NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET.\n\n  1835.\n\n\n\n\n  Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1835,\n  By Harper & Brothers,\n  In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENT.\n\n\nWe must tell our little readers something about this number of their\nLibrary. It was sent to us by a very kind old uncle of ours, who, when\nwe were young, was so much from home, visiting various places in the\nworld, that we do not remember seeing him very often at that period. At\nlast, the old man, finding that he could not bear fatigue as he had done\nwhen young, determined to come home; and we had heard so much about him\nthat we were quite anxious to see him. He came to our house one evening,\nand appeared rather odd to us; but he was so good-natured, and told us\nso many curious things, that we soon forgot his odd appearance.\n\nThe old gentleman brought home with him a very large number of books,\nand a great many strange things which he had gathered in his travels,\nsuch as stones, and dried insects, and leaves, and flowers, and stuffed\nbirds, and animals. He did not stay with us long, but went to the\nvillage where he was born, and built a small house to which he carried\nall his books and curiosities, and said that he should spend the rest of\nhis days there.\n\nWe sometimes pay him a visit. The last time we were there, we found him\ntalking to several children around him. In the beginning of the book\nthere is a picture of the old gentleman. After you have looked at it,\nyou may read the letter which he sent us, and learn how he came to write\nthis book.\n\n  Your friends,\n            The Publishers.\n\n\n\n\nUNCLE PHILIP'S LETTER.\n\n\n  My dear Nephews,\n\nI was very much pleased to receive the numbers of your Library for\nBoys and Girls which you sent to me. You know I am now an old man,\nand have travelled a great deal, and seen a great many strange things\nin the course of my life. I am too old to travel any more, and so I\nam quietly living in the cottage I built by the side of that pleasant\nand shady little stream where I played when I was a boy. I read my\nbooks, and especially that best of all of them, my Bible; and so am\npatiently waiting till my Heavenly Father shall call me to take my last\njourney; when I hope, for the sake of the blessed Saviour, to go to Him.\nSometimes I walk out into the village, and meet the children and have\na long talk with them. They all know me; and very often, some of them\nwill come to my house, and ask me to tell them about things which I have\nseen in my travels or read of in books: and so I spend many happy hours\nwith the little creatures; for you know how much I love children. When\nI had read the books you sent to me, I lent them to the children, who\nwere delighted; and I thought that if I should sometimes write down what\nwe here talked about, it might please the little boys and girls for whom\nyou print your books, and perhaps they might learn something from our\nconversations which would be useful: and so I determined to send them to\nyou, from time to time, to print, if you pleased.\n\nIf you think fit to print what I send, just tell your little readers who\nI am; an aged and quiet old man, who is very fond of little boys and\ngirls, and wishes them to be wise and good here, and happy hereafter,\nand that I am your\n\n                                          Uncle Philip.\n  _Newtown, Feb_. 1833.\n\nP.S. If you print what I send now, please to print the Preface to\nParents, which I also send; in order that they may, by reading it,\nsee what sort of a book Uncle Philip has been making for their dear\nchildren, and may be satisfied that it will not harm them to read it.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO PARENTS.\n\n\nThe author of the following book avails himself of the opportunity\nafforded by its publication, to address a word to those who sustain the\ndelightful and responsible relation of parents.\n\nTo such of that class as may honour by a perusal this humble attempt\nto interest and instruct their offspring, the author need not say that\nthe subject of his book possesses for himself peculiar attractions: it\nwill readily be perceived that he has found a charm in the pursuits of\nthe naturalist. The votary of a favourite science would anticipate too\nmuch, should he expect every one to partake of the enthusiasm which is\napt to stimulate him; it is wisely and kindly ordered that we shall\nnot all be enthusiasts in the same direction. The author, however,\nstill ventures to hope, that in his subject there is enough to attract,\nthough it may fail to fascinate. He hopes, too, that it will be found\nnot attractive merely, but profitable also to his young countrymen.\nThere are many reasons on which to found such a hope. If to entertain\nreverence for our Maker, to admire and adore his wisdom and goodness\nin the illustrations of nature, thankfully to acknowledge and duly to\nimprove the superiority which mind confers, be exercises in which a wise\nparent would desire to train a child,--the study of natural science\nis admirably adapted to the attainment of these objects. Again, if it\nbe desirable to encourage habits of patient observation, accuracy of\ninvestigation, and soundness of thought; let the volume of nature be\nopened before the youthful mind. If to learn _things_ be better than\nto learn _words_, it is important to place things before the growing\nintellects of the young. Let it not be supposed that to present matters\nof science intelligibly to the minds of children is a hopeless task. It\nrequires not learning or maturity of understanding to perceive a _fact_;\nit needs only the ordinary senses which God has bestowed alike upon\nchildren and their parents. Natural science is emphatically the science\nof _facts_; built upon any other foundation it becomes conjecture\nmerely: and he knows but little of the mind of a child who is not aware\nof the facility with which a fact is impressed upon it. The secret of\ninstructing the young will be found to consist more in the mode of\ncommunication than in the nature of the subject.\n\nAs to the style of this work a word may be said; not, of course, for\nthe purpose of disarming criticism (for truly the writer has never\nsupposed his trifle worth the critic's labour or notice), but simply to\nremark, that the object has been to write for the minds of _children_;\nif the book be intelligible to them, the utmost ambition of Uncle Philip\nwill be attained. Truth and plainness were all he sought. The first he\nbelieves he has attained; and to determine his success in attempting\nthe last, he turns from the parents, and looks for the decision of the\nquestion to the suffrages of the children. He would rather hear the\nexpression of satisfaction from the lips of one intelligent little\nreader, than receive the words of approbation from many who are elders;\nthe first is testimony derived from experience, the last is but opinion.\nChildren always know better than any one else does what books they\nunderstand.\n\nIn conclusion, the author owes it to himself to say to the parents\nof his young countrymen, and to the patrons of the \"Boy's and Girl's\nLibrary,\" that what he has written will be found on the side of religion\nand morals. So far as these important points are concerned, the writer\nis not ashamed to avow himself a Christian; nor yet does he mean to make\nit the subject of boasting. In his simple view, Christianity is a very\nquiet and gentle thing, which eschews strife, and promotes practical\ngoodness; and truly can he say, that he has indulged in some of his\nhappiest and, as he trusts, his holiest musings when, in the solitary\npursuit of his favourite science,--to use the language of good old\nIzaak Walton, that simple-hearted lover of God, and all his works,--\"he\nhas looked upon the wonders of nature with admiration, or found some\nharmless insect to content him, and pass away a little time, without\noffence to God, or injury to man.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                                    Page\n  CONVERSATION I.\n  About a Fly that can work with a Saw and a Rasp, like the Carpenter 13\n\n  CONVERSATION II.\n  About Grasshoppers and Bees that bore Holes with a Gimlet           19\n\n  CONVERSATION III.\n  About Animals that are Tailors                                      27\n\n  CONVERSATION IV.\n  About the first Paper in the World made by Wasps                    41\n\n  CONVERSATION V.\n  A Story about Tom Smith, and of Bees with Brushes and Baskets, and\n  of a Bird with a Chisel, and a Gnat with a Lancet                   53\n\n  CONVERSATION VI.\n  About Animals that can do Mason's Work                              66\n\n  CONVERSATION VII.\n  About Animals that throw Dirt with a Spade; and about an Animal\n  with a Hook; and about one that is a Wire-drawer                    80\n\n  CONVERSATION VIII.\n  About a Door, with a Hinge and Spring to it, made by a Spider; and\n  the Difference between God's Work and Man's                         94\n\n  CONVERSATION IX.\n  A Story about a Philosopher and his Kite; and about Ants that\n  have Awls, and build Cities, and Stairs, and Bridges, and many\n  other Things                                                       104\n\n  CONVERSATION X.\n  More about the white Ants                                          120\n\n  CONVERSATION XI.\n  About some other Ants that are very good Masons, and build Walls\n  and Ceilings; and a Story about a very sensible Ant which seemed\n  to think a little                                                  129\n\n  CONVERSATION XII.\n  About Ants that go to War, and fight Battles; and about some that\n  are Thieves, and have Slaves                                       138\n\n  CONVERSATION XIII.\n  A Voyage; and an Animal that makes itself into a Ship; and of an\n  Insect that builds a Boat, and floats about in a Canoe; and of\n  another that pumps Water, and wears a Mask; and of a Spider that\n  builds a Raft, and floats upon it                                  151\n\n  CONVERSATION XIV.\n  About an Insect with Tweezers, and another with Pincers; and how\n  a Fly's Foot is made, so as to stick to the Wall                   167\n\n  CONVERSATION XV.\n  How Hats are made; and about Animals that can make Felt\n  like the Hatter                                                    181\n\n  CONVERSATION XVI.\n  About Birds that are Weavers, and the Politician Bird; a\n  Story about some Philosophers; and what may be learned\n  from these Conversations                                           202\n\n\n\n\nNATURAL HISTORY.\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION I.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children about a Fly that can work\n     with a Saw and a Rasp, like the Carpenter._\n\n\n\"Well, boys, this is a beautiful day. The sun is shining brightly, and\nthe birds are singing, and the insects are flying about, and the grass\nis green, and every thing appears pleasant, and you feel happy too, and\nhave come, I suppose, to see old Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Philip, we are tired of playing now, and so we have come to\nask you to talk with us, and tell us about some of the curious things\nyou know.\"\n\n\"Well, boys, I will tell you about some very strange things. I will talk\nto you about animals that know how to work with tools like a man.\"\n\n\"Work with tools, Uncle Philip! That is strange; but we know it is so,\nif you say so; because you will not tell us any stories but true ones.\nBut where do they get the tools?\"\n\n\"Ah, boys, 'the hand that made them is _divine_!' They get them where we\nget all that is useful and good,--from God. The Bible says that He '_is\nwise in heart, and wonderful in working_;' and he has made many a poor\nlittle insect, and given it tools to work with for its comfort, as good\nand perfect as any that man can make. Yes, these poor little creatures\nhad tools long before man had. God cares for the insects, boys, as well\nas for us.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, what sort of tools do you mean? Tell us about them.\"\n\n\"Very well, I will; do you think of some kind of tools that men use:\nthink of the carpenter and his tools, and let us see if we cannot find\nsome of them among the insects.\"\n\n\"Why, the carpenter has a saw. Is there any saw among these little\nfellows?\"\n\n\"Yes indeed, there is; and a capital saw it is. Now listen, and I will\ntell you all about it. There is a kind of fly called the _saw-fly_; it\nhas four wings, and commonly its body is yellow, and its head is black;\nbut the most curious part of it is the saw. The young ones feed upon the\nleaves of rose-bushes, and gooseberries, and raspberries, and currants,\nand several other kinds of bushes; and the old ones always lay their\neggs on the branches of these bushes, so that the young ones may have\nsomething to eat as soon as they come out. It uses its saw to make a\nplace in the branch to put its egg in.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, what is the saw made of?\"\n\n\"It is made of something like horn, and is fixed very nicely in a case;\nit resembles what the cabinet-makers call a _tenon-saw_ more than it\ndoes the carpenter's common saw. The tenon-saw is made of a thin plate\nof steel, and has a stiff brass back, to keep it from bending. The brass\nback has a groove in it, and the saw is put in that groove, and then it\nis fastened to it. But the fly's saw is fixed in another way: there is\na back to it too, but that back is not fastened to the saw. The groove\nis in the saw, and there is a ridge all along the back-piece, which\njust fits in the groove, and so the saw slides backwards and forwards,\nand the ridge always keeps it in its place. Besides all this, boys, the\nfly is better off than the cabinet-maker, for he uses only one saw at\na time; but our little workman has two exactly alike, and they are so\nfixed that the creature first pushes out one, and when it is drawing\nthat back, pushes out the other; so that it is all the time cutting, and\ndoes double work. I think the fly's saw is the best, too, for another\nreason. The saws of the carpenter and cabinet-maker have their teeth\nbent; first, one a little on one side, and then the next to it a little\non the other side, and so on to the end of the saw; so that when sawing,\nthe cut may be wide enough for the blade to move easily. Now the fly's\nsaw has the teeth a little bent, or twisted, too; but it has something\nelse: on the outside of every tooth there are a great many very small\nteeth, so that the outside of every one is just like a _rasp_, or\n_file_.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, it must take them a great while to saw a very little\ncut; they are so small.\"\n\n\"Yes, it does; but they persevere. It takes them more than an hour and a\nhalf to make one groove, and sometimes they will go on and make as many\nas six without stopping. That shows, boys, what perseverance will do.\"\n\n\"And when it is done sawing, Uncle Philip, where does it keep its saws?\"\n\n\"Oh, I told you they fitted in a case; but when the fly is done sawing,\nit uses the saws to put the egg in the place cut for it, and then it\ndraws the saws almost entirely into the case, and drops upon the egg a\nsort of frothy stuff like a drop of soap-lather.\"\n\n\"What is that for?\"\n\n\"I suppose it is to glue the egg fast, or else to keep the juices in the\nbush from hurting it.\"\n\n\"Well, this is a curious fly, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"It is strange, boys, because you never heard of it before; but it is a\ncunning fly, as well as a curious one.\"\n\n\"What does it do, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Why, when it is frightened, it will fold up its case and saws under its\nbody, and draw up its legs, and pretend to be dead; and then it will not\nmove, even if you stick a pin through it.\"\n\n\"Can you tell us any thing more about this fly?\"\n\n\"Nothing very strange, boys; but we have found out _two_ tools, I think,\na saw and a rasp, and that is enough for one poor little fly to give us.\nHere, boys, are pictures of these saws; I have made them a great deal\nlarger than they are in the fly, so that you can see them plainly.\"\n\n[Illustration: Saw of the Saw-fly, with Rasps shown in the Cross-lines.]\n\n[Illustration: Portion of the Saw-fly's comb-toothed Rasp, and Saw.]\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION II.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children about Grasshoppers and Bees,\n     that bore Holes with a Gimlet._\n\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, here we are again, to hear more about the tools\nthat animals work with; we have seen in the bark of trees, and old\nwooden posts, little holes as round as a gimlet could make, and we\nhave been thinking whether any of these little creatures have augers\nand gimlets, as well as saws. Do you know of any of them that can bore\nholes?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, boys; I know of more than one that can bore as smooth and round\na hole as any carpenter you ever saw. There are some of the grasshoppers\nthat have an excellent gimlet. The contrivance has five pieces in it;\ntwo of the pieces make a case to keep the augers in, two more are the\naugers or borers, and the other is a piece between the two borers on\nwhich they slide; this piece has a ridge on each side of it, and the\naugers have a groove which exactly fits the ridge. Besides this, each\nauger ends in a knob, and that knob has teeth all around it. Here is a\npicture of it.\"\n\n[Illustration: Ovipositors, with files, of the Grasshopper, magnified.]\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, what is the piece with the ridge for?\"\n\n\"Ah, boys, that piece shows the wisdom and the goodness of God. '_His\ntender mercies are over all his works_:' he has placed that piece there\nto keep the borers stiff, so that they cannot get out of joint, or be\nbroken, when the little workman is boring.\"\n\n\"Well, this is very curious.\"\n\n\"Yes; but there are some of these insect workmen more curious still.\nDid you ever see a spy-glass? You know it is a round, hollow piece of\nwood, with brass tubes in it, which are made smaller and smaller, so\nas to slide into one another, when the glass is not used. Now there\nis a sort of gadfly (she is a little creature, too) which has exactly\nsuch a contrivance to keep her gimlet in. It is in four pieces, and the\nsmallest piece ends in five sharp points, three of which are longer than\nthe other two: she twists these five sharp points into one piece, and\nas some are longer and some shorter, when they are all put together,\nthey make a sharp edge running all around, and are almost exactly like\nan auger or gimlet. When she wants to use it, she just shoots out the\ndifferent tubes, so as to make a stem for the gimlet; and when she is\ndone, she puts all back into its case again.\n\n\"Here is a drawing of it, and I think that by looking at it you will\nunderstand what I have been telling you: I do not know whether men\nlearned from this part of the fly how to make the case of a spy-glass;\nbut I know they might have learned.\n\n[Illustration: Ovipositor or Gimlet of the Gadfly, greatly magnified,\nwith a claw and part of the tube, distinct.]\n\n\"There is also a bee, boys, which is called the _carpenter-bee_, because\nit is such an excellent wood-borer. It commonly looks for some old post,\nor dry plank, or withered part of a tree, to work in. It never works in\nwood that is green and has the sap or juices in it; for the bee knows,\njust as well as any carpenter does, that it is very hard to get tools\nthrough such wood. I expect that you have seen sometimes, when an old\npost or dry board was split, a long hollow groove in the middle of it,\nwith little round thin pieces of something like paper, about as thick as\na wafer, fastened in it by their edges, one above the other, all the way\nthrough. These show the work of the carpenter-bee: she bored the hole,\nand she put those little partitions like paper in it, to separate the\ncells; and more than that, she made the partitions out of the dust she\ngot by boring. She always likes, too, to get a piece of wood in a place\nwhere the sun can shine on it; and when she has made her choice, she\nbegins to bore at first into the post in a slanting direction, and as\nsoon as she has gone far enough in, she then turns and bores straight,\nwith the grain of the wood.\"\n\n\"Does she do it quickly, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Not very quickly, for sometimes the wood is very hard; I have seen\none of these holes nearly twelve inches long in a very hard oak board.\nSometimes she has to work at it for months; but she works steadily,\nboys, and that does a great deal. What makes it more tiresome is, that\nthe poor little creature has to bring out all the dust she makes by\nboring.\"\n\n\"How large is the hole?\"\n\n\"Oh, large enough to put my forefinger in, and sometimes fifteen inches\nlong. After she has bored it as deep as is necessary, she begins to\ndivide it into separate cells. So she commences at the bottom, and puts\nin a quantity of what is called bee-bread, until it reaches about an\ninch in height; on the top of this she lays an egg, and the bread is put\nthere to feed the young one as soon as it comes out of the egg. She then\nmakes a floor over it out of the dust, as I told you; she knows how to\nglue this dust together, and she brings it grain by grain from the heap\nin which she put it when she first brought it out: and she always begins\nby gluing the dust around the outside of the hole she has bored, and\nthen glues another ring to that, and then another, and another, making\neach ring smaller and smaller, until she has it all filled; so that her\nfloor, when it is done, appears like a parcel of rings of smaller and\nsmaller sizes placed within each other. On the top of this floor she\nputs bee-bread, as before, and places another egg on it, and then covers\nit with a floor again; and so she goes on making cells and filling them\nwith bread, and covering each with a floor, until she has filled up the\nhole.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, how do the young bees get out when the egg is hatched? It\nseems as if they were shut up for ever in prison.\"\n\n\"No, boys; there is a way for them to get out, and it shows the\nwonderful wisdom of God in teaching this poor bee how to contrive the\nmatter. The egg which is put in the lowest cell being the oldest, the\nlittle worm that is afterward to be a bee will come out of that one\nfirst: now, you know, he never could get through all the cells over his\nhead, filled as they are with bee-bread, so as to come out at the top\nof the hole. If he gets out at all, then, it must be at the bottom. The\nold bee knows this, and she so arranges these eggs that when the worm\ncomes out it will be with his head pointed downwards; he falls to eating\nhis bread, and so eats himself down to the bottom of his cell, and there\nhe finds that his mother has bored a hole from his cell to the outside,\nand through that he comes out. When his brother in the cell above him\nhas eaten his way down to the bottom of his cell, he just eats through\nthe floor and gets into the cell below, which is then empty, you know,\nand walks out at the same hole which his older brother used before him.\nAnd so all the rest one after another eat their way downwards into the\nempty cells below them, and get out at the same back-door, which their\nmother made by what we call her _instinct_, which just means the share\nof wisdom which God gives to the lower animals to show them how to take\ncare of themselves.\"\n\n[Illustration: =A=, represents a part of a post, tunnelled in several\nplaces by the violet carpenter-bee; the stick is split, and shows the\nnests and passages by which they are approached. =C=, a piece of thin\nstick, pierced by the carpenter-bee, and split, to show the nests. =D=,\nperspective view of one of the partitions. =E=, carpenter-bee. =F=,\nteeth of the carpenter-bee, greatly magnified; _a_, the upper side; _b_,\nlower side.]\n\n\"Why, that instinct, as you call it, Uncle Philip, is a curious thing.\"\n\n\"Very curious, very curious indeed, boys; and at some other time, if\nyou wish, we will talk more about it, and I will tell you a great many\nstories of animals, which will show you their instinct. But for this\ntime I have told you enough to keep you thinking until we meet again. So\nnow just look at this picture of the carpenter-bee's house, and then you\nmay go home.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION III.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children about Animals that are\n     Tailors._\n\n\n\"Uncle Philip, we are very glad to see you, and we think we have found\nout something to ask you, about a kind of work which men do, that no\nother animal can accomplish. As we came along this morning to visit\nyou, and were talking of what you had told us of insects that, like\ncarpenters, could saw wood and bore holes in it, we passed by the\ntailor's shop, near the church; 'and now,' said we, 'we have found out\nsomething which will puzzle good Uncle Philip: there are surely no\ntailors among the lower animals; so we will ask him to-day to talk about\ncreatures that can cut out cloth and sew it up with a needle.'\"\n\n\"Ah, my dear children, there are a great many things which would puzzle\nUncle Philip. I do not know every thing; nor do I suppose that I can\nfind _every_ trade in the world among the dumb creatures which God has\nmade. But you have made a bad choice of a puzzle this morning, my boys;\nfor there are tailors among the inferior creatures, and some pretty nice\nones, too; at any rate, they always cut so as to fit exactly.\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip! You do not mean to say that they can cut out\n_cloth_, and then sew it up again with a needle and thread!\"\n\n\"No, boys; I do not think it is to be expected that they should take\na pair of shears and cut a piece of cloth, or put a piece of thread\nthrough the eye of a steel needle; any more than we expect the insect\nthat saws, to go to the cabinet-maker, and borrow his tool to work\nwith. But with the instruments which God has given to them, they will\ncut what is cloth to them, the leaves of trees and flowers, and will sew\nthem together too: and, now I think of it, there is one that will cut\nhis garments out of our cloth.\"\n\n\"Pray let us hear about them, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Softly, boys, softly. I have two things to say to you before I begin.\nIn the first place, I am very glad to hear that you think and talk among\nyourselves about the things which I tell you: and in the next place, I\nknow that you love _me_, and, therefore would not wish, by _puzzling_\nme, as you call it, to produce mortification or vexation; nor do I\nthink that I should have felt either vexed or mortified had I not been\nable to find tailors among the lower animals; but I do not wish you to\ntake pleasure in puzzling people; for it is very apt to produce in you\na feeling of triumph, and to make you vain: and you must remember that\nfor _one_ of your questions which cannot be answered, a _thousand_ might\nbe put to you, of the answer to which you would be ignorant. No man, my\ndear boys, knows every thing. Wise men talk with each other, that they\nmay learn from each other; and the wisest are not ashamed to acknowledge\ntheir ignorance of some things; and I believe they take very little\npleasure in puzzling. It is our duty to learn all that we can, and to be\nalways willing at a proper time to teach others what we know.\"\n\n\"Thank you, dear Uncle Philip, for your advice. We did not mean to\ntriumph over _you_, if you had not been able to tell us of tailors among\nthe animals. But we see that you are right. We might get a foolish\nhabit, which would do us harm.\"\n\n\"Exactly what I meant, boys; and now let us begin. And first we will\ntalk of the cutting out, as the tailor always does that before he sews.\nThere is a kind of bee[1] which, like some of the insects we have\nalready spoken of, is furnished with a borer. With this she forms a\nround hole, like that made with an auger or gimlet, in a hard-trodden\npath, or sometimes in a piece of soft decayed wood. It is in making her\nnest in this hole that she plays the part of a tailor, for the nest is\nmade of leaves, sometimes taken from the rose, at others from the birch,\nash, or other trees. The little creature cuts them commonly, and I\nbelieve always, into two shapes. They are either half-oval, that is,\nhalf the shape of the bowl of a spoon, or round, and are of different\nsizes. Sometimes she makes a mistake in the size, and when she finds it\nout, she alters it. These leaves are prepared to line the hole which\nshe has bored, and she begins with the largest pieces; taking them into\nthe hole, she winds around in it, until she has spread very smoothly a\ntube of leaves the whole length of it; she then closes up one end of it\nby rounding it off and doubling the pieces of leaf one over another.\nIn this case she sets about making her _cells_. She takes three of her\nhalf-oval pieces which have been cut to fit, and contrives to roll them,\nso that the edge of one piece will just lap over the edge of the next;\nthese, when she has finished rolling them, make the hollow of the cell,\nwhich is not quite an inch high. She next turns up the ends of these\npieces, which are cut to fit, so as to form the bottom: she then sets to\nwork with three other pieces rolled in the same way inside of the cell\njust finished, turning up their ends as before to form the bottom; and\nwithin these she again works three others, so that her cell, when it is\ndone, is of nine thicknesses of leaves. And you see why, though she cuts\nthe pieces of the same shape, they are not all of one size: they are\nof three sizes, so as to make the cells within each other smaller and\nsmaller.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, you have not said any thing about the round pieces\nwhich she cuts; how does she use them?\"\n\n\"I will tell you: after she has finished one cell she lays an egg in it,\nand fills it all round with food nearly liquid; now as the cell is lying\ndown on its side, all this liquid food would run out if it were not\ncorked up, and the bee therefore uses her circular pieces to stop up the\ncells.\"\n\n\"And does she really make these round pieces to fit the cell?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, exactly; and they are cut too as regularly as if they had\nbeen first measured and marked with a pair of compasses. And, more than\nthis, the little creature will fit one in in less than a minute. But the\nmost curious thing is, that sometimes she will fly off to a distance\nto get this round piece, and bring back one which will exactly suit;\nso that it really seems as if she carried the size in her head. After\nfinishing one cell she will make another, until she has completed as\nmany as she wants; and then, as she always builds them one upon another,\nthey appear like a parcel of thimbles stuck into each other and put into\na case: and here is a picture of it.\"\n\n[Illustration: Rose-leaf-cutter Bees, and Nest lined with Rose-leaves]\n\n\"This is very wonderful, Uncle Philip; and it does seem like cutting out\npieces to fit.\"\n\n\"Very true: but this is not the only cutter-out of leaves among the\nbees. There is another kind, called the poppy-bee,[2] because it uses\nthe scarlet leaves of the poppy-flower to line its cell. It makes its\nhole in the ground, as smooth and regular and polished as can be, and\nthen proceeds to line it all around with pieces of the leaves, and cuts\nthem to fit as she goes on. If a piece is too large she will trim it\ndown to the proper size and shape, and always carries away the scraps.\nNow if you should take a pair of scissors and try to cut the leaf of a\npoppy-flower, you would wrinkle it, but this little workman will spread\nout what she cuts as smooth as glass. When she has lined this hole\nthroughout, and carried the lining out beyond the entrance, she fills it\nwith honey and _pollen_, or bee-bread, as it is called, about half an\ninch high, lays an egg, then folds down the leaves on it, and finally\nfills the upper part with earth.\"\n\n\"Then she was not working for herself?\"\n\n\"No; she was providing a house for her young, and God has taught her\nthus to take care of it.\n\n\"I will now tell you of another little workman, which I have heard\ncalled the cloak-maker, because it makes for itself a mantle which\nreally appears very much like a cloak; and, stranger still, this cloak\nis lined throughout with silk.\"\n\n\"Can it be possible, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Listen, and you shall hear. These mantle-looking cases are made by\nthe _larva_, as it is called, or grub of a little moth which forms a\ncovering of pure silk; this silk it spins from itself; it is not woven\nso as to appear like our silk, but still it is real silk, and is worked\ninto a great many thin scales, which lap over one another like the\nscales of a fish. But this is only the lining of the cloak. This little\ntailor is the field-moth, which first eats what it wants from a green\nleaf, and then, from the thin membranes left, sets about making its\nmantle: and it makes it of two pieces cut out and joined together with a\nseam, just as a tailor would make it.\"\n\n\"How does it go to work, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Why, I will give you the account as it was given by a gentleman[3] who\nwas very fond of observing insects, and who watched one of these little\ncreatures. He says that from the thin membrane of the leaf it first\ncut two pieces just equal in size and of exactly the same shape; each\nof these pieces was to form one-half of the cloak, and this he says was\ndone wonderfully fast. He noticed, too, that one end of each piece, that\nwhich was meant for the bottom of the cloak, was just twice as long as\nthe other end, which was the top. The insect then placed itself between\nthe two pieces while they were lying flat; it afterward brought the two\nsides where the seam was to be, together, and fastened them at certain\nplaces, still leaving, however, considerable spaces open. It then began\nto turn and twist its body about in all directions, until it moulded\nthe pieces into a hollow form to fit. When it found that it would fit\nits body, it brought the edges of the seam close together through the\nwhole length, and contrived to sew or fasten them so neatly together,\nthat when the gentleman looked, even with a magnifying-glass, he said he\ncould hardly find the seam. The whole was lined with the silk spun from\nitself, and was finished in about twelve hours.\"\n\n\"Why, this little workman is the strangest of all: but, Uncle Philip,\nyou said there was one of these animal tailors that cut his garment out\nof _cloth_: pray tell us of him.\"\n\n\"When I said that, boys, I was thinking of the clothes-moth.[4] They\nmake their coats of wool commonly taken from our cloth, and silk drawn\nfrom their own mouths; and the strangest thing concerning them is,\nthat when they outgrow their clothes they will piece them to make them\nlarger. Suppose the insect wants it longer, it adds a new ring of wool\nto the end: suppose it wants it wider, it slits the case or garment, not\nfrom one end to the other, for this would leave it naked, but it splits\nit half-way down the sides, and when it has filled it in with proper\npieces, it splits the remaining half, and puts other pieces in them.\nThere is another curious thing about this tailor: it always makes its\ncoat of the same colour with the cloth from which it takes the wool; so\nthat if it has first made its garment of a piece of blue cloth, and is\nplaced on a bit of red cloth when it wishes to enlarge it, you will see\nits work exactly, for the pieces which it puts in will be red. This is\nthe little fellow, boys, which does so much mischief to our clothes.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, one can almost forgive his mischief for the sake\nof his ingenuity. But you have said nothing yet about _needles_; how do\nthese little creatures sew?\"\n\n\"Why, they have what serves as a needle to them: but I can tell you of\nanother animal which sews with a needle a great deal plainer to be seen\nthan that of these little insects.\"\n\n\"Pray let us hear of him, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"I must go among the birds to find this workman. There is a kind of\nstarling, called the orchard starling,[5] about which, Mr. Wilson, a\ngentleman who has written a great deal concerning the birds of our\ncountry, gives a very curious account. He says that this bird commonly\nhangs its nest from the twigs of an apple-tree, and makes it in a very\nsingular manner. The outside is made of a particular kind of long\ntough grass, that will bend without breaking, and this grass is knit\nor sewed through and through in a thousand directions, just as if done\nwith a needle. The little creature does it with its feet and bill. Mr.\nWilson says that he one day showed one of these nests to an old lady,\nand she was so much struck with the work that she asked him, half in\nearnest, if he did not think that these birds could be taught to _darn\nstockings_? Mr. Wilson took the pains too to draw out one of these\ngrass threads, and found that it measured thirteen inches, and in that\ndistance the bird who used it had passed it in and out thirty-four\ntimes.\"\n\n\"Why, this was sewing, sure enough.\"\n\n\"Yes; and I saw, when I was in the West Indies, another kind of\nstarling[6] which will cut leaves into a shape like the quarter of\nan orange-rind, and sew the whole very neatly to the under side of a\nbanana-leaf, so as to make one side of the nest. But, boys, there is\nanother most beautiful little bird, which is called the tailor-bird,\nbecause it sews so well.[7] It first picks out a plant with large\nleaves, then it gathers cotton from the shrub, and with the help of\nits fine long bill and slender little feet it spins this cotton into a\nthread, and then using its bill for a needle, it will sew these large\nleaves together to hide its nest, and sew them very neatly, too.\"\n\n\"Why, dear Uncle Philip, this is the most wonderful tailor of them all.\"\n\n\"He is, indeed: but, my children, what do we learn from all that I have\nbeen telling you? Who made these little creatures with such curious\nskill, and taught them to work so well? It was the same God who made us;\nfor such wonderful things never came from what people call _chance_.\nChance, boys, never made any thing: and how very wise he must be to\nform such nice little workmen; and how very good thus to teach them how\nto take care of themselves. The Bible says, truly, that '_his tender\nmercies are over all his works_.' And I think, boys, we may learn\nanother thing: it is, not to be so very proud of what we know; for I\nrather suppose that we shall often find that the lower creatures around\nus understood many of our trades long before we found them out.\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Philip, it is likely that these little fellows you have been\ntelling us of this morning were the first tailors in the world.\"\n\n\"Very likely, very likely indeed, boys. But now I must bid you good\nmorning; for here comes our good clergyman, and I am going with him to\nsee a poor sick woman.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Uncle Philip; we will come again on Saturday.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Megachile centuncularis.\n\n[2] Osmia papaveris.\n\n[3] Reaumur.\n\n[4] Tinea sarcitella.\n\n[5] Icterus mutatus.\n\n[6] Icterus bonana.\n\n[7] Sylvia sutoria.\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION IV.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children about the first Paper in the\n     World, made by Wasps._\n\n\n\"Ah, boys! how do you do? This is Saturday, and I have been expecting to\nsee you come for some time.\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip, we should have been here sooner, but we went round\nby the old mill; because we thought that perhaps we might find in some\nof the old timbers, holes bored by some of those industrious little\ncarpenters you told us about.\"\n\n\"Well; and did you find any?\"\n\n\"No; but we found something else, which we have brought to show you: and\nwe have been talking about it all the way. We have not discovered any\nnew _tools_ among the animals, but we think we have found out a _trade_\nthat some of them work at; and we wish you to tell us if we are right.\"\n\n\"Oh, that I will do, with pleasure, if I can. What is the trade that\nyou think you have discovered?\"\n\n\"It is paper-making, Uncle Philip. We have found this part of a wasp's\nnest, which we have brought along; and as you told us it was always best\nto notice every thing closely, we examined this, and it appeared so much\nlike coarse paper that we thought (for we knew it was made by wasps)\nthat man did not make the first paper in the world.\"\n\n\"Well, boys, that was not a bad thought. Now you see the advantage of\ntaking notice of things, and of thinking about what you see. You are\nperfectly right in supposing that wasps make paper; and, if you please,\nwe will talk this morning about the wasps.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, yes, by all means, Uncle Philip; and we will thank you, too.\"\n\n\"I must first tell you, then, that of the wasps there are several kinds.\nSome build their nests under ground, and some hang theirs in the air to\nthe limb of a tree. This part of a nest which you have found belonged to\nthe last kind; but I will tell you something about both. But before I\nbegin let me get some drawings I have, which will help us to understand\nbetter. I have them. And now, of the wasps which build under ground.\nAs soon as the warm season begins, the first care of the mother-wasp\nis to look for a fit place in which to build; and in the spring of the\nyear she may very often be seen flying about a hole in the bank of a\nditch, and looking into it. These holes which she examines are the old\nhouses of field-mice or moles, and some persons have thought, what I\nexpect is true, that she likes to take such old holes, because they save\nher a great deal of hard work. But still, as the holes are not large\nenough for her use, she has a great deal of labour to make them do. So\nshe goes at once to work, digging in the hole she has chosen, and makes\na winding, zigzag gallery, about two feet long, and about an inch in\nwidth. She digs out the earth, and carries it out, or pushes it out\nbehind her as she goes on. This gallery ends in a large chamber or hole\nfrom one to two feet across when it is done: and now she is ready to\nbegin her nest.\"\n\n\"Now then, Uncle Philip, she will begin to make paper, will she not?\"\n\n\"Yes; but here I ought to tell you that it was a long time before men\nfound out what she made it of. Do you remember my telling you of a\ngentleman who watched the little cloak-maker to see how he made his\ngarment? Well, this gentleman, whose name was Reaumur, was trying for\ntwenty years, he says, to find out how the wasp made paper, before he\nsucceeded. At last, one day, he saw a female wasp alight on the sash\nof his window and begin to gnaw the wood; he watched her, and saw that\nshe pulled off from the wood fibre after fibre, about the tenth part of\nan inch long, and not so large as a hair. She gathered these up into a\nknot with her feet, and then flew to another part of the sash, and went\nto work, stripping off more fibres or threads, and putting them to the\nbundle she had already. At last he caught her, to examine the bundle,\nand found that its colour was exactly like that of a wasp's nest; but\nthe little ball was dry; she had not yet wetted it to make a pulp of it\nwhich could be spread out. He noticed another thing, that this bundle\nwas not at all like wood gnawed by other insects; it was not sawdust,\nbut threads of some little length bruised into lint. He then set to work\nhimself with his penknife, and very soon scraped and bruised some of the\nwood of the same window-sash, so as to make a little ball exactly like\nthe wasp's. Mr. Reaumur thought that this was the stuff out of which the\nwasp made paper, and it has since been found out that he was right. The\nanimal wets its little bundle of bruised wooden fibres or threads with\na kind of glue that it has, and this makes it stick together like pulp\nor paste; and while it is soft, the wasp walks backwards, and spreads it\nout with her feet and her tongue, until she has made it almost as thin\nas the thinnest paper. With this she lines the top of the hole in which\nshe is going to build her nest, for she always begins at the top. But\nthis is so thin that it would be too weak to keep the dirt from falling\nin; and therefore she goes on spreading her papers one upon the other\nuntil she has made the wall nearly two inches thick. These pieces are\nnot laid exactly flat on each other like two pieces of pasteboard, but\nwith little open spaces between, being joined at the edges only. This\nis the ceiling; and when it is finished she begins to build what may be\ncalled the highest floor of the nest; this she makes of the same paper\nin a great number of little cells all joined together at the sides; and\ninstead of fastening this floor to the sides of the nest, she hangs it\nto the ceiling by rods made also out of this paper: these rods are small\nin the middle, and grow larger towards the ends, so as to be stronger.\nHere is a drawing of one.\n\n[Illustration: The Cut represents one of the Rods from which the Floors\nare suspended.]\n\nShe then makes a second floor, and hangs it under the first by rods as\nbefore; and the whole of it, when finished, if it should be cut straight\nthrough the middle, would appear something like the following picture of\none which I made some years ago.\"\n\n[Illustration: _Section of the Social-Wasp's Nest._--_aa_, the outer\nwall; _b_, _cc_, five small terraces of cells for the neuter wasps;\n_dd_, _ee_, three rows of large cells for the males and females.]\n\n\"This is a very ingenious little paper-maker. Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, it is so. This of which I have been telling you is the\nground-wasp. The tree-wasp makes its nest of paper prepared in the same\nway; and the nests are of different shapes. One makes it in a round\nflattened ball, not much larger than a rose, and when cut open it shows\nlayer upon layer of leaves of the same thin grayish-looking paper. This\nkind is not so common, however. Here is one of their nests.\n\n[Illustration: Wasp's Nest.]\n\n\"Another makes its nest of cells placed in separate floors, but without\nany outer wall to keep off the rain; and the most curious thing in this\nnest is, that it is not placed in a horizontal way; that is, it is not\nplaced with the floors level, because then the cells would catch the\nrain, and the nest would be spoiled; but it is always placed slanting,\nso that the rain may run off. It is always placed, too, so as to face\nthe north or the west, and I suppose it is because the wasp knows that\nit is in more danger of rain from the south and the east. Here is a nest\nof this kind.\"\n\n[Illustration: Wasp's Cells attached to a branch.]\n\n\"Ah, Uncle Philip! this must be a kind of lazy wasp. It does not choose\nto take the trouble to cover up the house, and so it hangs it slanting,\nto make the rain run off.\"\n\n\"It may be so, boys; but I think that in making this wasp lazy, you make\nit a very sensible wasp; else how should it know that water would run\ndown a slanting surface? But I cannot believe that it is so lazy; for,\nthough it does not cover up the whole house in a paper shell, yet it\ndoes what no other wasp does, it covers its nest with a complete coat of\nshining, water-proof varnish, to prevent the rain from soaking into the\ncells. And putting on this varnish, I can tell you, is no trifling work.\nIt forms a pretty large part of the labour of the whole swarm belonging\nto the nest; and sometimes you may see some of them at work for hours at\na time, spreading it on with their tongues. No, my lads, he who wants an\nexample of laziness, will not find it among the wasps.\n\n\"But let us come back to the paper. Hornets make paper for their nests\nmuch in the same manner as the wasps do, only it is coarser. There is,\nhowever, one kind of wasp which makes a sort of paper more curious than\nthis which you have found. It is not a wasp found in this country at\nall. It is the Cayenne wasp, and so smooth, strong, and white is the\noutside of his nest that it appears like a card, and he is for that\nreason sometimes called the card-maker wasp. He hangs his nest on the\nbranch of a tree, and it is so hard and polished on the outside that\nthe rain rolls off from it, as if it were glass. A little hole in the\nlower end is left for the animal to pass in and out; and in this picture\nof it, which I have, a piece is left out of the side to show how the\ncells within are fixed.\"\n\n[Illustration: Nest of the Card-maker Wasp, with part removed to show\nthe arrangement of the Cells.]\n\n\"Well, then, Uncle Philip, we were right in thinking that wasps were the\nfirst paper-makers; and very glad we are that we saw this old piece of\na wasp's nest. Who would have thought that so much could be learned by\npicking up this old scrap of a wasp's work!\"\n\n\"Very good sense, boys, in that thought. A wise man will learn something\nfrom almost any thing. Use your eyes, and think of what you see. Now in\nthis very trade of paper-making. I think that man would have found it\nout a great deal sooner if he had watched the wasps at their work. They\nhave been excellent workmen at this business from the beginning; and man\nhas gone on learning little by little of this very trade, as I will tell\nyou at some other time, when he might have made a long step at once,\nhad he but noticed wasps and hornets. We go on very slowly sometimes in\nlearning to make a trade as perfect as it can be: the poor animal, with\nits knowledge such as God gave it, is often our superior. These dumb\ncreatures cannot teach us every thing; there is a point to which they\ncan go, and no further: but as far as they do know, their knowledge is\nperfect; and I make no doubt that a great many useful things not now\nknown will hereafter be found out by watching dumb animals.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION V.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children a Story about Tom Smith; and\n     of Bees with Brushes and Baskets, and of a Bird with a Chisel, and\n     a Gnat with a Lancet._\n\n\n\"Uncle Philip, as the day is fine, instead of sitting here, will you\nwalk with us, this morning?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys; let me get my cane and hat, and we will take a ramble;\nperhaps we may see something, if we will use our eyes. Where do you wish\nto go?\"\n\n\"Oh, we do not care much, if you are with us, which way we walk; any\ncourse will be pleasant.\"\n\n\"Come on, then; we will cross the river, and go down on the other side\nbeyond the old mill, where you found the wasp's paper. And now, such of\nyou as will, may keep a look-out for curious things, while the rest of\nus will talk together.--Boys, do any of you know Tom Smith?\"\n\n\"Know him! Why, Uncle Philip, everybody in this part of the country\nknows him; he is such a shocking drunkard, and swears so horribly, that\nnobody can forget him; and what makes it worse, he is an old man, too.\nHis hair is almost as white as yours, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Yes; he is just about my age. We were both born here, and I have known\nhim ever since we were boys; and when we played together as children,\nover this very field which we are now crossing, or caught fish in\nthe river down yonder by the rocks, there was not a more decent,\nwell-behaved, handsome boy among us than was Tom Smith. Poor Tom lost\nhis father when he was about twelve years old, and his mother, having\nno other child, indulged him, until he was sent to the city to go into\na store. But Tom then, boys, had good principles; he neither swore nor\ngot drunk. In a little time he fell into bad company, and they led him\nastray by degrees. He was so good-natured (as they call it), boys,\nthat he had never the firmness to say _no_ to the proposals of his\ncompanions. He went with them to places of amusement; and instead of\nspending his evenings in his own room, reading, he was at the theatre,\nor dancing in some place, or at a supper with his young companions;\nand finally he began to play cards and billiards with them; while the\ninside of the church was a place which he never saw. He was cheated by\nhis companions; and too honest he was then not to pay what he lost by\ngaming: he wrote to his poor mother, and told her the truth, as to his\nlosses, and she sent him money to pay his debts, and told him to come\nhome. He did come home; and even after all that had happened, poor Tom\nmight have been respectable and happy; for his friends were all willing\nto forget the past, and encourage him for the future. For a time he went\non pretty well, and married an affectionate and good young woman, and\nhis prospects were bright enough: but one thing, boys--one single thing,\nruined his comfort for ever. In the city he had learned _to drink strong\nliquors_.\n\n\"I remember, too, soon after he came home and married, that a man was\nhung not far from here for murdering his wife. The man was a drunkard,\nthough he was quite sober when he killed the poor woman; and drunkenness\nhad hardened his heart. I have no doubt, as it will the heart of any\nman. Tom was talking to me about that man, and I remember he said then\nthat when a man _began_ to drink, he could never say where it would end,\nnor what he would do: 'therefore,' said Tom, 'beware of the _first_\ndrink.' But Tom, though he talked like a Christian and a man about it,\ndid not act like one: for it was not long before he began to follow his\nbad habit, and he soon killed his poor mother; for she died of grief\nand sorrow, I think. His excellent wife speedily followed her to the\ngrave; and Tom Smith left the village, a perfect vagabond, whom no one\ncared for. Where he went, or what he did for a long time, no person\nhere knows. I went to other countries, and neither heard of nor saw Tom\nSmith until my return home, when I found him wandering about here, a\ngray-headed swearer and drunkard. He did not know me, and I never should\nhave known him, had not some one told me who he was. And last night I\nreceived a letter from one of my nephews in the city, which informed\nme that Tom Smith had been tried in the court, and found guilty of\nstealing, and was sent to the state prison for ten years to hard work.\nThere I suppose he will die for he is now old; and it is awful to think\nof what is then to become of his soul. Ah, my dear boys! I could not\nhelp thinking, when I read my letter, of what that man said to me years\nago--and I have told you his story, hoping that you will remember his\nwords, 'Beware of the _first_ drink.' The man who does that will never\nbe a drunkard. And when old Uncle Philip is laid in the grave, boys,\nwhich must be before many years, remember, as you look upon the place,\nthat he told you the story of Tom Smith, and charged you to 'beware of\nthe _first_ drink.'\n\n\"But here come some of the boys, running towards us; I suppose they have\nfound something.\"\n\n\"Oh, Uncle Philip! Uncle Philip! Do come with the boys this way. Under\nthat fence yonder there are a great many beautiful wild flowers, and a\nnumber of bees are as busy as they can be about them; pray come and see\nthem.\"\n\n\"Well, I will; but not so fast, boys; you forget that I am an old\nman, and cannot run as you do.--So, here are, indeed, a great many\nindustrious little workmen.\"\n\n\"What are they doing, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"These are _workers_ among the bees, and they are gathering the dust out\nof the flowers, to work it up into what is commonly called bee-bread.\nMore tools here, boys!\"\n\n\"Tools, Uncle Philip! Ah, we like that: pray let us hear of them; what\nare they?\"\n\n\"Why, there is a brush and a basket in the legs of these little fellows;\nbut they are so small that you cannot see them without a microscope.\"\n\n\"What is a microscope?\"\n\n\"It is an instrument, made by fixing glasses in such a way to look\nthrough, that small things will seem to be very large. Do you not see\nhow some of these little fellows are rolling themselves over in the\ninside of the flowers, so that the yellow dust is sticking to them?\nNow their breasts, and legs, and many other parts of their bodies are\ncovered with very short hairs, which catch the dust. The last joint but\none of each leg is made exactly like a brush, the hairs being longer\nthere than on any other part; and with these they brush off the dust,\nand get it into two little heaps. The bags into which they put it, or\nrather the baskets, are in the thighs of the last pair of legs. These\nare hollow, so as to form a three-sided basket. The bottom of it is\nsmooth and shining, and appears like horn, and all around the edges are\nplaced very strong, thick-set hairs, like bristles.\"\n\n\"What are these for?\"\n\n\"To keep things from falling out of the basket; and these bristles are\nso strong that even if they heap up more than the basket will hold, the\nbristles will keep it from falling. Here is a drawing of these legs.\n\n[Illustration: Structure of the legs of the Bee for carrying propolis\nand pollen, magnified.]\n\nBesides carrying this dust, they also carry what is called _propolis_.\"\n\n\"What is propolis, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"It is a gum which is found upon some trees. This they work up into\nlittle balls, and knead it until it is a little dry, so as not to stick.\nThis takes the bee sometimes as much as half an hour. When the balls\nare ready, she passes them backwards with her feet to the basket, puts\nthem in, and gives them a pat or two to make them lie close; and when\nshe adds more, she pats it still harder, and when the basket is full,\naway she goes to the hive. But there is another curious instrument about\nthe bee. I mean its sting: this is like the head of a barbed or bearded\narrow. There is a sheath for it when the bee does not wish to use it;\nand here is a picture of it.\n\n[Illustration: _a_, The sting of a Bee, magnified to show the barbed\ndarts; _b_, the last ring of the abdomen of a Bee opened, showing the\nsting in its sheath.]\n\nBut let us now continue our walk.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, it is really very pleasant to walk with you: it\nseems as if you met nothing which could not teach us things worth\nknowing.\"\n\n\"Why, my dear boys, there are, as I told you once before, a great many\nthings which I do not know; and what I do know I am very willing to tell\nyou. But you may learn just as I did,--by reading, by taking notice of\nthings around you, and by thinking for yourselves. And I do not know any\nthing more pleasant to notice than the works of God. I see his wisdom\nand his goodness in every thing which he has made. I see them in the\ninsects, and the birds, and the larger animals; I see them in the grass,\nand the flowers, and the trees; and I see them in the rocks and the\nstones upon the ground. All these things are well worth our attention,\nboys; the study of all these things around us is called the study of\n'Natural History;' and I think it is apt to make him who loves it a\nbetter man; at any rate, I believe that there have been very few who\nhave been fond of it, who have not been amiable and benevolent men. But,\nhark! Do you hear that noise?\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Philip; it is the sound of men chopping wood in that clump\nof trees.\"\n\n\"No, boys; it is like the sound of a wood-cutter; and it is a\nwood-cutter, but he does not use one of our hatchets.\"\n\n\"What is it that he uses, then?\"\n\n\"He uses the tool which God gave him. It is a bird, boys, which you\nhear: it is the woodpecker. See, there it is on yonder tree, and look,\nat the foot of it, there is something like a bushel of the bird's chips\nor dust. Its bill is a complete chisel; it is straight, hard, and sharp,\nwith edges too upon the sides. It is not a very broad chisel, but still\nit is one, and used as we use ours. But the chisel is not the only\ninstrument of that workman. Its tongue is worth examining. It bores a\nhole into a tree that is dead or decaying, to look for insects whose\nnests are in the tree; and when it reaches the cell where the young\ninsect is, it uses its tongue to get it out, and it suits exactly for\nthe business. In the first place, it is so long that the bird can shoot\nit out three or four inches longer than the bill is; in the next place\nthe end of it is tipped with a stiff, sharp, long thorn; and in the\nlast place, that thorn has little teeth on both sides of it, like that\nwhich you see on the point of a fish-hook: these teeth are to keep the\ninsect from falling off when it puts its tongue in the hole and sticks\nits sharp point into it to draw it out for food. So that besides the\nchisel, the woodpecker has a spear, or lance, or arrow, barbed (as it is\ncalled) or bearded at the point.\n\n\"But we are some distance, boys, beyond the old mill: suppose we now\nturn back towards home; I find the gnats rather troublesome.\"\n\n\"So do we, Uncle Philip; they have been biting us for some time: it\nwould be well if there were no such tormenting things in the world.\"\n\n\"I am not sure of that, boys. We may not always be able to find out the\nexact use of some of these little animals; but that only shows that we\nare ignorant, not that they are of no use. God would never have made\nthem if he had not some wise purpose in doing so: I do not believe he\never wastes his power in making useless things. But what will you say\nabout gnats, when I tell you that they have a tool to work with, and a\nvery perfect one, too?\"\n\n\"Why, we will almost forgive them for biting us.\"\n\n\"Biting you! They have not been biting with teeth: they are doctors,\nboys; they have only been bleeding you, and cupping you.\"\n\n\"And what have they been bleeding us with?\"\n\n\"Why, with a lancet, to be sure; what should a doctor use but a lancet\nto let blood?\"\n\n\"And has the gnat really a lancet?\"\n\n\"Yes, it has: this instrument forms a part of what you may call the\ntongue of the gnat: it is made up of five pieces, which are shut up in\na case, split from one end to the other; these give steadiness to the\nlancet when it is used. But the reason of the pain is not so much the\nwound of the lancet, as it is the fluid or poisonous juice which the\ngnat puts into the wound to make the blood thin enough for the insect to\nsuck it up through a tube or case, which makes part of its mouth. Here\nis a drawing of part of a gnat's mouth.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAnd here is a picture of the lancet or knife of a horse-fly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"We have now reached the bridge,--and here we must part; your homes are\nin one direction, and mine is in the opposite. I hope, however, that you\nhave learned something in our morning's walk.\"\n\n\"We have, Uncle Philip, and we thank you much, and bid you, good day.\"\n\n\"Good day, boys.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION VI.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children about Animals that can do\n     Mason's Work._\n\n\n\"Uncle Philip, we saw a very strange thing just now; as we were coming,\nwe saw a great many bees flying by us, and each one was carrying a\nlittle stone.\"\n\n\"That was strange, indeed. Did you find out any thing about them?\"\n\n\"We asked a man who was near what they did it for, and he said that they\ncarried the stones to prevent the wind, which is blowing pretty fresh,\nfrom tossing them about too much.\"\n\n\"That is a very silly story, boys, though it is a very old one: for I\nhave seen them carrying what you call stones when it was quite calm, and\nthere was no wind to blow them away. The man was very ignorant, or he\nwould have told you another story, which would have been both strange\nand true.\"\n\n\"Will you have the goodness, Uncle Philip, to tell us what it meant?\"\n\n\"Very willingly, boys. What you saw I presume were bees. You remember\nthat I told you there were several kinds of bees; and this one is called\nthe mason-bee. This kind builds his nest of mortar, and was therefore\ncalled the mason-bee by Mr. Reaumur first, I believe.\"\n\n\"Where does it get the mortar, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"It makes it, boys. This kind of bee may be seen flying about, picking\nup sand, grain by grain, putting it into a heap, gluing them together\nwith a sort of gum out of her own mouth, and building with them a\nfoundation for her house. This little workman commonly builds against\nthe side of a wall between two bricks where the mortar has fallen out;\nand if you should see one of the nests, it appears exactly like a lump\nof dry mud which has been thrown wet upon the wall out of a cart-rut:\nbut when you examine it closely, you may see a great many small stones\nin it, more than is common in mud: a hundred people, though, might pass\nby it, and never think it was any thing more than a lump of dirt, which\nhad been thrown upon the wall when it was wet, and had afterward dried\nthere. Here is a picture of one of these nests.\n\n[Illustration: Exterior wall of Mason-bee's Nest.]\n\nYou see there is a small hole in it; this leads to a cell inside about\nan inch deep, and shaped exactly like a lady's thimble; the inside of\nthis cell is polished smooth, and appears like a wall of plaster, except\nthat it has little yellow stains upon it. Here is the bee that makes it.\n\n[Illustration: Mason-bee.--Natural size.]\n\nIn making this mortar to build with, the bee will sometimes add earth\nthat is soft to its grains of sand, and when the lump is about the size\nof a small shot, it takes it up and flies away with it, to work it into\nthe wall.\"\n\n\"Does it always use sand, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Not always: sometimes it takes wet clay, and will dig into a bank of\nclay baked hard by the sun on the outside, so as to get that which is\nwet.\n\n\"Mr. Rennie, a gentleman in England who is very fond of watching\ninsects, and has found out a great many curious things about them, has\ngiven an account of some of these bees which he noticed at work. Every\none was carrying out of a hole in the clay-bank a small lump of clay;\nand on catching one of them, he found that this lump was wetter than\nthe clay in the hole, so that the bee had moistened it, and worked it\ntogether, to make it stick like good mortar. These lumps too were larger\nthan a shot; they were as large as a garden-pea.\"\n\n\"How long did it take them to work up the lump?\"\n\n\"About half a minute, Mr. Rennie says. He watched one of these little\ncreatures, and found that she was building on the inside wall of a\ncoal-house, where the bricks and mortar were left rough: she was at work\nbetween two of the bricks where the mortar had fallen out, or where the\nbee had taken it out. And the conduct of the bee at her house was very\ndifferent from what it was at the clay-bank. She was not frightened,\nbut went on working when any one came near the clay-bank; but at her\nhouse she seemed afraid that it should be found out where it was. She\nwould alight first on the roof outside, as if she merely wished to rest\nherself; and when she flew into the coal-house she would not go directly\nto her nest, but would settle on a shelf, and sometimes pretend to be\nexamining a great many places in the wall between different bricks; and\nat last, when she supposed there was no risk, or when there was nothing\nto alarm her, she would fly to her nest, and go to work with all her\nmight in fixing her piece of clay to the wall.\"\n\n\"Why did she wish her house not to be found out, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Mr. Rennie supposed it was her instinct: she had seen probably some of\nthe insects which would destroy her young, watching her to see where\nshe was building; and sometimes after flying nearly to her nest with a\nload, she would turn back and fly towards the clay-bank, or take a large\nsweep off in another direction, and so come to her house.\n\n\"Besides the mason-bee, boys, there is the mason-wasp, which I have\nheard some persons call the _dirt-dauber_: it is very common, especially\nin the southern part of the United States. It works very much like the\nmason-bee, only it is apt to fix its nest under the eaves of old houses,\nwhich I think the mason-bee never does.\n\n\"There is also another kind of mason-wasp which will actually break a\nhard brick. Mr. Rennie says that he saw one at work on a brick of a hard\nyellow kind. Whether the wasp found a hole in the brick to begin with,\nhe did not know; but if he did he was hard at work making it larger: he\nwould break off a piece as large as a mustard-seed at a time. Here is\na drawing of that kind of wasp; and the insect is no larger than the\npicture.\n\n[Illustration: Mason-wasp.--Natural size.]\n\nIt seems wonderful that so small an insect should have so much strength.\nHere is a picture of its jaws, seen through a microscope, so as to\nappear a great deal larger than they really are.\n\n[Illustration: Jaws of Mason-wasp.--Greatly magnified.]\n\n\"I do not know, boys, that the masons we have been talking of, show us\nany _tools_ like those with which men who are masons work; but they show\nus, at any rate, how to make mortar by kneading or working it together;\nand they certainly show us that we were not the first who built walls.\nBut there is another kind of mason who works in stone. He picks out\nthe stones which are of proper size, and he fastens them together with\nmortar really as men do.\"\n\n\"Pray tell us of him, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"I will. The insect I mean is the caddis-worm, which is to be found\nsometimes in ponds, and very often in springs of fresh water. There\nare several sorts of them, but the one I am thinking of now, builds a\nstone house to live in. These worms are in the habit of making a little\ntube, sometimes of sand, or shell, or wood, or leaves, or stones, to\nlive in; and their skill consists in joining these perfectly, and\nmaking them stick together. But we are talking now of the caddis-worm\nthat uses stone. What the worm has to do is to make a tube out of small\nstones, that shall have a hollow about as large as a wheat straw, and be\nperfectly smooth inside. This is a pretty hard task--at least it would\nbe very hard to us. When the stone-mason wishes a stone of a particular\nsize or shape, and cannot find it, he takes his hammer and breaks one\nuntil it will suit; but the caddis-worm has no hammer, and must take\nthe stones just as it finds them. The little insect then has to pick\nout a great many stones before he gets the right one, because they have\nso many little rough points about them that it is very difficult to\nget those which will make the tube perfectly smooth inside. Remember,\ntoo, that the bottom or lower side of this stone case has to be pretty\nnearly smooth, so that the worm can drag it along on the bottom of the\nspring or pond (for it never comes out of it), and you will see that the\npicking out of the stones alone is no trifle. But besides this, it has\nto fasten them together with mortar.\"\n\n\"And can the worm really do this, Uncle Philip? Will not the water wash\nthe mortar all away?\"\n\n\"It certainly would if it were like common mortar. It was a long time\nthat men lived before they found out a mortar that would remain, and\ngrow hard under water. When they want to build a wall that is to be\nunder the water, they use a cement which is called pozzolana; it is\nmade of lava out of a volcano, and is water-proof. Our caddis-worm has\na cement too, which is better than pozzolana, and though it has been\ntried, it cannot be melted or dissolved in water. Here is a drawing of\nthe stone nest of a caddis-worm.\"\n\n[Illustration: Stone Nest of Caddis-worm.]\n\n\"Uncle Philip, you said that sometimes these worms built their nests\nof other things besides stones; let us hear something of them, if you\nplease.\"\n\n\"Very willingly, boys. Some build of shells: here are pictures of their\nnests.\n\n[Illustration: Shell Nests of Caddis-worms.]\n\nSome build of leaves, and others of pieces of reed or light bark.\n\n[Illustration: Reed Nest of Caddis-worm.]\n\nAnd a curious thing about those which build of light pieces of bark\nor reed is this, that they will make the top-piece come over so as to\nhide their heads, and prevent you from seeing them. Some build of sand;\nand then as the house would be so light that the water running from\nthe spring might wash it down and carry it away, the wonderful little\ncreature takes care to anchor it by fastening a pretty large stone to it\nwhen it has nearly finished it. And as the worm anchors it when it is\ntoo light, so it lightens it when it is too heavy, by fixing a bit of\nlight wood or hollow straw to it to buoy it up.\"\n\n[Illustration: Sand Nest, balanced with a Stone.]\n\n[Illustration: Nest of Caddis-worm, balanced with Straws.]\n\n\"Well, this is truly a wonderful insect. Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Truly so indeed, boys. In all these cases it uses its water-proof\ncement, and if you break its house to pieces, and will patiently watch,\nyou may see it build another. The insect always lives with its head out\nof doors, and its body inside; so that its head is firm and hard, while\nits body is soft.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip,\" said one of the larger boys, \"there is one thing I have\nbeen thinking about, as you have been talking: these little masons have\nno trowel, but I believe I know of one animal that uses something like\nthat tool.\"\n\n\"Ah! What animal is it?\"\n\n\"Why, I was reading the other day something about the beavers building\ntheir dams and their houses, and the book said that they built their\nhouses of logs first, and then plastered them with mud, and that they\nused their tails for trowels.\"\n\n\"I am very glad to find that you remember what you read; but I am sorry\nthat your book did not tell you the truth. There have been very strange\nstories told about the beaver; and these stories have been taken from\none book and printed in another, so that an untrue account has gone down\nfor a great many years. The beaver is very ingenious, but is not quite\nso much of a mason as you suppose.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, will you tell us the truth about it?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, I will, so far as I know it myself. I have seen these\nanimals, for they were once a great deal more common in our country than\nthey are now; and many of the stories told of them are not true. But\nbefore I begin, let me tell you of one book which I think does tell the\nplain truth about them; and the truth is curious enough.\"\n\n\"What book is it, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"It is a book written on American Natural History, by Doctor John\nGodman. I knew him, boys, and a most excellent man he was. He is now\ndead--and he died a Christian. The book he wrote you will find worth\nreading, when you get old enough to understand it. But now for the\nbeaver.\n\n\"His tail is very broad and flat at the end, and might be used very well\nfor a trowel; but when he builds his house he does not cut down trees,\nand place them first, and then fill up the cracks with mud-mortar; but\nall the sticks and mud (and stones too when the beaver can get them),\nare first mixed up together, and the beaver builds his house with this\nfrom the very foundation. As soon as he has placed a lump of this stuff\nupon the wall, he turns round and gives it a blow with his flat tail;\nand that, boys, is all he does with his tail for a trowel. Sometimes\nhe slaps his tail upon the water when he is swimming; and some persons\nhave supposed that this was done by the king, or ruler, to call his\nworkmen. It may be so, but I do not believe it, because they almost\nalways dive as soon as they have slapped the water; and I think it is\nprobably a part of their motion in diving. In the autumn they cover the\noutside of their houses with mud, and they walk over it as they are at\nwork, and their tails drag along upon it; and this I expect made persons\nfirst suppose that they were plastering it, with the tail for a trowel.\nWhen they are caught and kept, boys, they still keep up this fashion of\nslapping with the tail; so that I rather think it is part of the nature\nof the animal.\n\n\"At another time, perhaps, I will tell you more about the beaver; but it\nis now late, and I must bid you good morning.\"\n\n\"Good day, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION VII.\n\n     _Uncle Philip talks to the Children about Animals that throw\n     Dirt with a Spade; and about an Animal with a Hook; and about one\n     that is a Wire-drawer._\n\n\n\"Boys, I have some men at work digging a small ditch for me, and I wish\nto see them; will you go with me?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes--very gladly, Uncle Philip; for you will be sure to tell us of\nsomething curious before we come home.\"\n\n\"Come on, then: yonder are the men at work; they have been very\nindustrious, I see.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, look! There is one of the men putting a bottle to\nhis mouth. Is that right?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, right enough; for the bottle has nothing but molasses and\nwater in it; and the man is thirsty, I suppose. I would not employ him\nif he brought a bottle of spirits out with him, for two reasons. In the\nfirst place, I think that I ought not to encourage a man who gets drunk,\nby employing him; for I would rather give my money to a sober man who\nwill not spend it for rum and brandy, but will take care of his family:\nand, in the second place, a drunkard would not work faithfully without\nbeing watched all the time. I never knew a drunkard who was really and\nhonestly an industrious man.\"\n\n\"See, Uncle Philip, how strong that man is; what a large spadeful of\ndirt he throws out!\"\n\n\"Yes, I see, boys: do you think that men had the first spades in the\nworld?\"\n\n\"Ah! now you are going to tell us something about tools among animals:\nthat is good; we like to hear of that. What animal is it that has a\nspade?\"\n\n\"Oh, a very common animal indeed in some parts of our country. The\ncountry people call it a _woodchuk_, and sometimes a _ground-hog_:\nits right name is the marmot; and as there are several sorts, ours is\ncalled the Maryland marmot, to distinguish it; but it is in New-York,\nConnecticut, New-Jersey. Pennsylvania, Virginia, and some of the other\nstates, as well as in Maryland. This is rather a mischievous animal,\nand does harm to the clover-fields; but it is in making his house that\nhe uses his spade.\"\n\n\"Then he digs his house in the ground. Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Yes; he burrows, or digs his nest in banks of earth, or on the sides\nof hills; and he has sense enough to make the passage to the inside\nupwards, instead of downwards, so that water cannot run in. In digging\nsoft earth he uses his fore-paws to loosen the dirt, for his fore-legs\nare very strong; and if the ground is hard he will use his teeth too.\nAs he gets farther in, he throws the dirt with his fore-paws under his\nbelly, and when he has a heap gathered, he balances himself on his\nfore-feet, and begins to throw it out with his spades.\"\n\n\"What are his spades, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"His hinder feet, boys, which are very broad, and just fit to take up\nthe dirt as a spade does, and to throw it from him: there is a skin\nwhich grows between the toes of his hinder feet, so that he can spread\nthem out when he chooses, like a duck's foot.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, perhaps they are made so for the sake of _swimming_;\nthe duck's are.\"\n\n\"That is a sensible thought, boys. Always think for yourselves; and when\nyou make a mistake, try again: everybody is mistaken sometimes. Let it\nteach you to be modest and humble; but do not be afraid to think again.\nA person who is always thinking cannot _always_ think wrong. Now you\nsuppose the marmot's feet may be made like a duck's for swimming: let me\ntell you something else, and we shall see what you will think then. The\nmarmot hates a rain as much as you would if you had no umbrella; he very\nseldom even drinks water, and then only a little; and you cannot drive\nhim into a stream or pond; he is afraid of it. What do you think now?\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip, we think that he is no swimmer.\"\n\n\"Very true, boys: so his feet, then, you now think, were made for\nspades, and not for paddles?\"\n\n\"We do. Can you tell us any thing more about this animal, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Oh yes. The burrows or holes of the marmot run a great distance under\nground, and end in several chambers or rooms, according to the number\nthat is to live in them. They make beds in them of dry leaves, or\ngrass, or any thing soft and dry which they can find. They cram their\nmouths full of it to carry, when they are making their nests. As soon as\ncold weather begins, the animal goes into his house, and stops up the\nhole on the inside; and there he stays till the warm weather has come\nagain.\n\n\"He is quite a thief at times. I saw one once which a gentleman had\ntamed, and he played about the yard; but every thing that he could get\nhold of which was fit to make his bed of, he was sure to steal, and\ncarry into his hole under ground. When clothes were hung out to dry\nhe would take them off the line, and as soon as any were missed the\nwasherwoman knew very well where they were. She kept a long stick with\na hook at the end of it, and with this she drew them out of the burrow.\nHe soon found out what it meant, and whenever she used the stick, it was\nnecessary first to tie him up; for he did not choose to have his bed\nspoiled, and would run to the hole and try to get in, and prevent the\nclothes from being drawn out. One day he stole eight pairs of stockings,\na towel, and a little girl's frock; and he carried them into his burrow\nas far as six feet from the entrance.\n\n\"But, boys, as we have begun this morning upon the old subject of tools\namong animals. I will tell you of something which, though not exactly\na tool, is a very useful instrument, and is found belonging to a very\ncommon creature. Did you ever take notice of a bat?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, Uncle Philip, often, as they were flying about in a room at\nnight, but not nearer.\"\n\n\"Then you never saw what I mean, I expect. Our common bat, boys, has\ntwo very excellent hooks; one on each of what you call its wings: I\nsay what you call its wings, because the bat is not really a bird, but\na quadruped; that is, an animal with four feet: and when it is on the\nground, any one may see that it is a four-footed animal. If a monkey's\npaw should be flattened out very much, it would be something like a\nbat's paw or hand. The long finger-bones are just like the sticks of an\numbrella; there is a thin skin between them, and they stretch it out, so\nthat the air underneath will keep them up. When they are on the ground\nall this is folded up. Their hinder feet have five toes, all small, and\nending in sharp claws. On the fore-feet there is but one finger which\nthe bat can use much, because the others are like umbrella-sticks, as I\ntold you; and the end of that one is a hook. Here is a picture, in which\nyou can see it plainly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the bat is on the ground, it is hard work for it to get along. At\nfirst it will reach forward a little to one side the hooked end of its\nfore-leg, and stick it in the ground; then it draws its hind-legs under\nits belly, and raising itself up, just tumbles forward its whole body.\nAt the next step it stretches out the other fore-leg, and hooks it, as\nit did before, and drawing itself up, tumbles forward again. The bat\ndoes not like a level place, because it cannot raise itself in the air\nfrom it. When they rest, they hang by the hooks; and here is a drawing\nof one, resting. In the other picture which I showed you just now the\nbat was flying.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Uncle Philip, we did not know before that bats were such curious\nthings; we always thought that they were birds; but if these pictures\nare like them, these hooks are as good as fish-hooks.\"\n\n\"The pictures, boys, are very much like the animal, and the hooks are\njust as plain as they seem to be in the drawings. But how often do you\nsuppose that you have seen a bat?\"\n\n\"Oh, many hundreds of times; for they are very common.\"\n\n\"True, boys; and yet you never knew before that they had hooks about\nthem. Suppose that everybody had done as you have, just passed by the\nbats, without taking notice of them; I could not have told you then\nwhat strange creatures they are, for no person would have known any\nthing about them. You see, then, that men may have eyes, and yet not see\nthings; because they will not look for them. Use your eyes, boys; God\nmade them to be used.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, bats are such ugly things! and they can bite, too.\nWe are afraid of them.\"\n\n\"Ugly, boys! And what of that? Will you look at nothing but what is\nhandsome? If the bat could think and speak, I expect he would call\nyou very ugly. But it is foolish, boys, to be afraid of these smaller\nanimals. There are many creatures which might hurt you, and I would\nadvise you to keep out of their way: but it is silly to be afraid of\nevery poor little insect or animal which you see. I have seen a large\nboy cry when he saw a poor little caterpillar or bug near him. Now\nthere are very few insects, indeed, which can or will hurt you; and a\ngreat many of them you may watch without touching them at all. And I\nthink that he is a wicked and cruel boy who kills every poor bug that he\nsees, merely because he is stronger than the bug. It would be a great\ndeal kinder and wiser in the boy to notice what the bug was doing, for\nthen he might learn something worth knowing.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, is it wrong to kill _spiders_?\"\n\n\"Spiders! Why, boys, the spider is one of the very last of these little\ncreatures that I should wish to kill. There is not a more curious little\nanimal in the world, nor one that will pay a man better for watching its\nmotions. At some other time I will tell you all about spiders and ants,\nfor I have noticed them a great deal: but now, just to show you how much\nyou would lose if you should kill all the spiders, I will talk with you\nabout a tool which man uses, and which he might have learned to make\nfrom a spider.\"\n\n\"Oh, do tell us; what is it?\"\n\n\"The next time you go to Mr. Brown's, the silversmith, ask him to show\nyou his plate for drawing out wire. Tell him that I told you to ask\nhim, and he will show it to you. You will see a flat piece of steel with\nholes made through it in regular lines, beginning with a large size, and\ngrowing smaller and smaller until the last is very small indeed.\n\n\"Now the wire is drawn through these holes; beginning at the larger\nones, and passing every time through the next smaller one, it stretches\nthe wire out, until it becomes as small as the workman wishes it to be.\n\n\"The spider is a wire-drawer, too; for it has a contrivance to draw\nout its threads, and make them smaller or larger, as it pleases. If\nyou will look at a very large spider, you can see with your naked eye,\njust at the end of its body, four, and sometimes six, little knobs like\nteats, with a circle around them. These are its spinners. Each one of\nthese small knobs, inside of that circle, is so full of little holes or\ntubes, that Mr. Reaumur (of whom I told you before, you will recollect)\ncalculated that a place no larger than the point of a pin had a thousand\nof these little holes in it. These holes are sometimes so very small,\nthat another gentleman,[8] who looked at spiders through a microscope\nvery often, thought it would take four millions of the threads which\ncame through those holes to make one thread as thick as a hair of his\nbeard. Here is a picture of a spider hanging by a thread coming out of\nits spinner, or, as it is sometimes called, its spinneret.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Then, Uncle Philip, the spider does not spin its thread all at once?\"\n\n\"No, boys. Fine as you see that thread to be, it is not one single line,\nbut it is made of many thousands joined together. The spiders have\nlittle bags of gum within their bodies, near their spinners, and out of\nthese they draw the threads: when they have come out about the tenth\npart of an inch, they join them all into one with their claws; and they\ncan shut their spinners when they please, so as to make the threads\nlonger or shorter; and they can break them off, too, when they wish.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, we do not see why there should be so many threads to\nmake up one.\"\n\n\"I cannot exactly tell you, boys, why there are so many; but probably\nto make the thread dry quicker, by letting the air touch so many parts\nof it: and I expect, too, the thread is stronger, because we know that\nin two pieces of cord of one size, if one is made of several smaller\ncords put together, it will be stronger than the other, which was spun\nall at once. The following is a picture of the spider's spinnerets, and\nsome of the threads as it appears through the microscope; only you must\nrecollect that _all_ the threads are not drawn: there are a great many\nmore than you see in the picture.\"\n\n[Illustration: Spider's Threads coming from the Spinnerets.]\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[8] Leuwenhoek.\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION VIII.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children of a Door, with a Hinge and\n     Spring to it, made by a Spider; and shows them Pictures to let them\n     see the Difference between God's Work and Man's._\n\n\n\"I was thinking, boys, last night, of what you said about killing the\npoor spiders; and I was sorry that I did not then recollect one thing\nabout a spider which I could have told you, and which would have made\nyou like the poor little creatures better. However, I determined that\nwhen you came to see me again, it should be the first thing I would tell\nyou, if you wished to hear it.\"\n\n\"Wish to hear it! Why, Uncle Philip, we always wish to hear you tell us\nof any thing that you please to talk about. You have told us of a great\nmany strange things, about which we knew nothing before; and we will\nthank you to tell us the story about the spider.\"\n\n\"Very well, boys; you shall hear it. Pray, do you not think that it is\na piece of difficult work to make a door to a house, and to make hinges\nto hang it with, and to fit it so nicely that when it is done you cannot\nsee the joints where the door is shut?\"\n\n\"Indeed it is a piece of very hard work. Uncle Philip, and it takes\nthe carpenter a long time to do it; and it is hard work, too, for the\nblacksmith to make the hinges. But what has that to do with the story\nabout the spider?\"\n\n\"Patience, boys, patience: you shall know presently. Never be in too\ngreat a hurry: it is a bad plan. I have always noticed that those\npersons who hurried most, went slowest in the end. Another question I\nwish to ask you is this,--do you not think it was hard work for the\nfirst man who ever made a spring, and put it on a door, to make it shut\nitself again when it had been opened?\"\n\n\"Yes, it was so: and the man who does it now gets well paid for it.\"\n\n\"Very good, boys. And now what will you say when I tell you that a poor\nlittle spider did all these things long before man did?\"\n\n\"What, Uncle Philip! A spider make a door with a hinge and a spring to\nmake it shut itself!\"\n\n\"Yes, boys; a spider. Do you think he deserves to be killed for doing\nit?\"\n\n\"Oh no, no! But pray tell us all about it. Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"This kind of spider, then, boys, I saw in Jamaica, and I saw its house,\ntoo. It is called the mason-spider. The nest or house which I saw was a\ntube made of very hard clay, about six inches long, and an inch across,\nand was a little bent at one end. The inside of this tube was lined\nall the way through with a kind of soft silky stuff, something like\nsilk-paper, but stronger, and it was of a yellowish colour; but the\ncurious part was the door. I never saw any thing which an insect had\nmade more strange than that. This door was round, about as large as a\nquarter of a dollar, and was a little hollowed on the upper side like\na saucer; the inside of it was rounded like the outside of the saucer.\nIt was of the same stuff with the lining of the nest, and seemed to be\nmade of more than a dozen pieces of that lining, put one on the top of\nanother: it was shaped so, too, that the inside layers or pieces were\nthe broadest, and the outside ones became smaller and smaller, except\nat the hinge, which was about an inch long. All the pieces in the door\nwere joined into this hinge, and then the hinge was joined and worked\ninto the lining in the tube. That made the hinge the thickest and\nstrongest part of the whole work. How the spider made it so, boys, I\ncannot tell; but so it was, that this hinge not only was a hinge, but\nwas so good a spring, that whenever the door was opened it would shut\nitself immediately: and when shut, it fitted so nicely that it was very\ndifficult to see the place of joining.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, this is most wonderful! But will not the hinge wear\nout at last?\"\n\n\"Wonderful as it is, boys, it is all true. As to its wearing out, I\ncannot tell you; but I know that a gentleman who had one, said that his\nfriends were very anxious to see it; and there were so many of them,\nthat he had to open the door and let it shut itself many hundreds of\ntimes to satisfy them; and it did not hurt the spring at all.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, we shall not kill the poor spiders any more.\"\n\n\"A good resolution, boys: only let them alone, and they will not hurt\nyou. There is another kind of mason-spider, which I never saw, but I\nhave read of it. It is found in the south of France; I did not happen,\nhowever, to meet with one while I was in that beautiful country. This\nkind digs a gallery or hole under ground as much as a foot deep. She\nlines it with a sort of silk glued to the walls, and makes her door,\nwhich is round also, with many layers of mud or earth all kneaded and\nbound together with some of her silk. On the outside, the door is flat\nand rough, to make it appear like the dirt around it, and hide it; on\nthe inside it is shaped like the inside of the door of the other spider\nI have told you about; and all covered with a coat of fine silk. The\nthreads of this silk are left long on one side, and fastened to the\nupper part of the hole; and these make the hinge. There is no spring to\nthis; but when the spider pushes its door open and comes out, it shuts\nagain by its own weight. If this door is forced open by any one when\nthe spider is at home, she will catch hold of it and pull it in; and\nsometimes even when it is half-opened; she will snatch it out of the\nhand. Here is a picture which shows the nest open, and another of it\nshut; and there is a drawing of the spider, too.\n\n[Illustration: A, the Nest shut; B, the Nest open; C, the Spider; D, the\nEyes, magnified; E, F, Parts of the Foot and Claw magnified.]\n\nA gentleman says, in a book which he wrote about insects, that he once\nbroke one of these doors off, to see what the spider would do.\"\n\n\"And what did she do, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"She made another door; but took very good care not to put any hinge\nto it, for fear she should be disturbed again. But when she thought\nall danger was gone, she could then put a hinge to it, you know; and\nprobably she did.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, we thank you again for this account of the spiders,\nand shall always look at them hereafter with more pleasure. Who would\nhave thought that we should ever find doors and hinges among such little\ncreatures, and these too so very well made and fitted!\"\n\n\"Why, boys, I have noticed the works of God very often; and I will now\ntell you one thing which I always found. It is this: a piece of the very\nbest work which man can make is really coarse when you compare it with\nthe work of God. The poor spider that we have talked about, when she\nmakes her door, makes it to fit perfectly; because in doing that one\nthing, God made her to know perfectly how to do it. The knowledge is\nGod's, boys; but the work is the spider's: but in making any thing else,\nexcept about her house, the spider knows nothing.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, you told us once that you were very fond of watching all\nsorts of dumb animals, and we think now that we know the reason.\"\n\n\"Well, what is it?\"\n\n\"It is because you see so much of God's knowledge in them; is it not?\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear boys, it is. When I look at many things which man makes\nor does, I think to myself, 'Now this thing is likely to have a mixture\nof sense and nonsense in it; the sense is God's, and the nonsense is\nman's.' But when I look at a thing made by one of the dumb creatures for\nits own comfort and safety, like the spider's house, with its door and\nhinge, for instance, I say to myself, 'Now here is the wisdom of God,\nwithout any of man's nonsense.' And yet, boys, men are far wiser than\nany other animal in this world.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, you said that a piece of man's best work was really\ncoarse: some things must be neat, we should think. Is the point of a\nneedle coarse? It does not seem so.\"\n\n\"Boys, you have mentioned the very thing which was in my mind when I\nspoke. The point of the smallest needle is very coarse. You have heard\nme talk of the microscope. I told you it was a set of glasses, so\nfixed that when you looked through them, it made small things appear\nvery large: on some other day, perhaps, I will let you look through\nmy microscope for yourselves; but now, I just wish to show you the\ndifference between the work of God and that of man. Let us go home,\nand I will show you some pictures I made, and you can see in them the\ndifference. Last winter, you know, was very cold, and there was a great\ndeal of snow: one day, while the snow was falling pretty fast, I was\nobliged to go out; and as the flakes of snow fell upon the sleeve of my\ncoat (which was black), I thought they had a curious shape, and did not\nall appear alike; so when I returned home I caught some of the flakes,\nand looked at them through my microscope. They were so beautiful that I\nmade pictures of them; and as we have now reached home, just let me step\ninto my study, and I will bring them to you. Here they are, boys.\"\n\n[Illustration: Snow-flakes, seen through a Microscope.]\n\n\"Oh, Uncle Philip! these are very pretty; they are all so different,\ntoo!\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, I picked out different ones to draw: when I was done, I\nbegan to look into my books to find out what others had written about\nthis thing; and I found that a gentleman named Dr. Hook had seen more\nthan a hundred different shapes and sizes of these flakes. This is God's\nwork, boys.\n\n\"Now I have brought you out another picture: it is the point of a very\nsmall needle, seen through the very same microscope which showed me the\nsnow-flakes. Just look at it, boys. This is _man's_ work.\"\n\n[Illustration: The Point of a very small Needle, seen through the\nMicroscope.]\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION IX.\n\n     _Uncle Phillip tells the Boys a Story about a Philosopher and\n     his Kite.--He tells them, too, about Ants that have Awls, and build\n     Cities, and Stairs, and Bridges, and many other things._\n\n\n\"So, boys, you have come again to see me. I am very glad of it; for as\nthis is a leisure day, we shall have time enough to talk: but what is\nthat you have there? Oh, I see now; it is a kite.\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Philip; it is a French kite that we have been making, and we\nhave come to ask you to go out with us this morning and see us fly it.\"\n\n\"Very good, boys; I will go. I am an old man now; but I remember that I\nwas a boy once, and loved to make a kite sail. It always makes me happy\nto see boys and girls playing about in health, provided they are not\nwasting time, and their play is not to do harm to anybody or any thing.\nSo come on; we will go out upon the green common yonder, behind the\nchurch, and I think we shall have a grand kite-flying, for the wind is\nabout right.\n\n\"There, boys! up she goes! Let out the string. I think she behaves very\nwell; there, she is done pitching about: now she is steady; see how she\nmounts. Ah, that is a very good kite.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, I was reading a book yesterday which said, 'A philosopher\nonce found great help from a kite.' What did it mean?\"\n\n\"Do you know what a philosopher is?\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Philip; a philosopher is the same thing with a very wise\nman, is it not?\"\n\n\"That is pretty near the meaning. Philosopher means a person who loves\nwisdom; and such a person, you know, will always be trying to get\nknowledge; and a person who is always trying to get knowledge is apt to\nbe a wise and learned man.\"\n\n\"Well, how could a kite help a man to get learning? Did he read the old\nnewspapers it was made of? I cannot see any other way.\"\n\n\"But there may be another way without your seeing it, you know. The\nphilosopher whom your book meant was Dr. Franklin. Did you ever hear of\nhim?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; he was born in Boston, and was a printer, and afterward became\na very great man.\"\n\n\"That is true. He was a man of excellent sense, who both read and\nthought a great deal; and in the war which the people of this country\nhad with England to get their freedom. Dr. Franklin's sound sense was of\ngreat use to his countrymen.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, how did the kite help him?\"\n\n\"I will tell you. If you take a proper piece of glass, or sulphur, or\nsealing-wax, or rosin, and rub it for some time, and then hold it near\nto small bits of thread or paper, the thread or paper will fly towards\nthe glass or sealing-wax, and stick to it for a short time. That which\nmakes them fly to the glass and stick there, is called _electricity_.\nAfter this was found out, men went on slowly finding out more and more,\nuntil at last a man named Hawksbee made a large machine with a glass\nbarrel, which could be turned around by a handle like that which you see\nto a grindstone; and with this machine (which I will show you at some\nother time) he managed to get a great deal of this electricity, and it\nwould shoot off in sparks, which appeared like little lightning.\n\n\"And now, boys, what I am going to tell you will show you the use of a\nman's eyes. Dr. Franklin knew all about the electrical machine, and was\nvery fond of drawing off the sparks from it, to see what he could find\nout about it. And when he saw it appeared so much like lightning, and\ncould feel too a spark strike his hand a smart blow, he began to think\nthat perhaps it was exactly the same thing with the lightning which came\nfrom the clouds; so he determined, if he could, to find out whether it\nwas or not. He was a great deal troubled for some time to know how he\nshould get down any of the lightning from the clouds; until at last,\none day, he saw a boy flying a kite; and that showed him the way. So\nhe took a large silk handkerchief, and stretching it upon sticks, soon\nmade his kite; and not long afterward, when he saw a black thunder-cloud\ncoming up, he took his kite and walked out of Philadelphia (where he\nthen lived) into the fields, and sent his kite up. He had a string like\nyours, made of hemp, and to the end of this he tied an iron key, and\nthen fastening it to the post of a shed by a silk cord, which he tied\nto the end of the hemp string, he got under the shed, and waited a long\ntime. Now, boys, if he had been impatient, all his work would have been\nof no use. But he even waited, after a very heavy cloud had passed over\nhis kite without giving it any of its lightning. At last, when he was\nalmost ready to give it up and go home, he saw some loose threads on the\nhemp string rise and stand up straight, just as he knew the electrical\nmachine would make them do. He directly put his knuckle to the iron key,\nand off came the spark, which he knew at once was exactly like the spark\nwhich he could get from the machine. And so, boys, he found out what\nhe wished to know; and this was the way in which the kite helped the\nphilosopher.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, this is really a very pretty story about Dr.\nFranklin and his kite. Was anybody with him?\"\n\n\"Nobody but his son; he took him out to help him raise the kite. But,\nboys, I see the other lads are walking on towards the bridge with our\nkite; let us follow them, and as we go, I will tell you of an electric\n_animal_.\"\n\n\"Oh, we shall be very glad to hear of him.\"\n\n\"Listen, then. There is a kind of eel, which when it is touched will\ngive a very hard blow, just like an electric shock, to the person who\ntouches it.\"\n\n\"Is there any spark, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"No, boys; there is no spark,--but the blow is tremendous. I remember\nreading of one of these fish which was caught in a net, and a foolish\nsailor would take it up, though he was told it would hurt him. The fish\nshocked him so violently that he fell down in a fit, and it was a long\ntime before he came to his senses; and his story was, that the moment he\ntouched the fish, 'the cold ran swiftly up his arm into his body, and\npierced him to the heart.' The fish has this power to defend itself, and\nto kill other fish for food.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, how do they ever manage to catch them alive? I\nshould think they would be shocked to death.\"\n\n\"I will tell you. A very sensible traveller and learned man[9] gives an\naccount of the manner in which they catch them, by a way called, by the\nSouth American Indians, 'fishing with horses.'\"\n\n\"Fishing with horses! What does that mean?\"\n\n\"The savannas, or large open plains, in South America have a great many\nwild horses and mules running over them. M. Humboldt says that the\nIndians caught about thirty of these, and drove them into the pond where\nthe electrical eels were. The horses made a great noise, and stirred up\nthe mud with their hoofs, and this brought up the eels from the bottom\nin a great rage. They were very large, and looked more like water-snakes\nthan like eels; and rising to the top of the water, they crowded under\nthe bellies of the horses and mules, and began to shock them. The poor\nhorses would try to get out of the pond; but the Indians, with spears\nand long reeds, would stand around to hinder them from coming out: some\nof them, too, would climb upon the trees around the banks, and get out\nupon the branches which were over the pond, and by crying out aloud,\nand using their long reeds, kept the horses in the pond. The eels would\ncontinue to shock them with tremendous blows, and a great many of the\npoor creatures were either stunned or killed, and would sink. Those not\nkilled would pant and raise their heads, while their eyes would show\ntheir pain, and they would try to get out. The Indians still drove them\nback, but some few escaped, and reached the shore, stumbling at every\nstep, and would stretch themselves on the bank, tired out, and benumbed\nin their limbs by the shocks they had received. M. Humboldt says that in\nless than five minutes after the fight began, two horses were drowned;\nand he thought that the end of it would be, that every horse which did\nnot get out of the water would be killed: but at last the eels became\ntired, and began to disperse. This is just what the Indians wish. They\nknow that the eels have spent so much of their electrical power that\nthey will need a long rest. It takes them a great while to get back\ntheir strength; so that if, the next day after such a fight, you send in\nmore horses, they cannot kill one. When the eels, tired out in this way,\nbegin to separate, they will swim to the edge of the pond, and there the\nIndians take them with small harpoons fastened to long cords. When the\ncords are dry, the Indian feels no shock in raising the eel out of the\nwater. In this way M. Humboldt got five, all alive, and very little\nhurt. But here we are at the bridge.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, suppose we sit down under the shade of this tree, and\nrest.\"\n\n\"I am willing, boys; but take care of the damp ground: there is an old\npiece of timber that the men have taken out of the bridge, for I see\nthey have been mending it; we will sit on that.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, what shall we do with the kite? shall we draw it\ndown?\"\n\n\"Do with it! Why, just tie the end of your string to that root, and it\nwill take care of itself in this wind.\"\n\n\"What a monstrous piece of timber this is. Uncle Philip! It must have\ntaken a great many men to move it; and see--there are some larger ones\nstill in the bridge. It must be a difficult work to build a bridge.\"\n\n\"Yes, it is so: but there are bridges much harder to build than our\nlittle wooden one here. Some are built of stone, and it takes years to\nfinish them. None but a good workman can plan and build a good stone\nbridge: but I know a little fellow that can make as good a bridge as\nanybody; and yet no man ever taught him the trade.\"\n\n\"Ah! now we know what is coming. You are going to tell us of a dumb\nanimal that can make a bridge.\"\n\n\"Yes, I am: and a small animal it is, too, for it is an ant.\"\n\n\"What sort of an ant is it?\"\n\n\"It is called the white ant; and as there is a great deal that is very\ncurious about this insect. I think that I had better tell you all about\nit at once.\"\n\n\"Pray do, Uncle Philip; you know you promised to tell us about ants.\"\n\n\"True, boys; and I like to keep my promises. In my story about these\nants, I think, if you attend, you will find more tools; and besides\nthat, you will hear of a great many things which man makes, and which\nshow matters quite as strange as any of which I have yet told you.\"\n\n\"What are they, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"They are the building of something like a city, and bridges, and\nstairs, and roads, and tunnels under ground, and--\"\n\n\"Oh, let us hear--let us hear! We have heard nothing equal to this yet.\"\n\n\"Well, then, I begin by telling you that these insects are very common\nin Africa, and in the East Indies, and are troublesome enough, for they\neat almost every thing but metal and glass. They love wood, though,\nbetter than any thing else; and they are so numerous that they destroy\nit wonderfully fast. They are very cunning, too; they never eat the\noutside of the wood first, but will work upon the inside, so as to leave\nthe outer part not thicker than a piece of pasteboard. But the curious\nthings I meant to tell you were about their city; so I will go on to\nthat. When they first begin to build you will see little hills shaped\nlike a sugar-loaf, and rising up above the ground about a foot, or a\nlittle more. Here is a picture of them.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe highest of these little hills is always in the middle; and they go\non building more and more, and making them all higher, still keeping\nthe tallest one in the centre. When they have made them as high as\nthey wish, then they fill in the spaces between the tops of all these\nsugar-loaf hills, so as to make one roof over all. Here is a picture of\none finished.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAfter this is done, they take down nearly all of the little sugar-loaf\nhills inside; for they only wanted them for a scaffold to support the\ntop while they were building it.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, what is all this built of?\"\n\n\"It is built of clay, which the ant makes almost as hard as stone.\"\n\n\"Are they strong, Uncle Philip?\n\n\"So strong, boys, that five men may stand on them; and it is a common\nthing for the wild bulls to get upon them and look out, while the rest\nof the herd are feeding below.\"\n\n\"Why, how high are they?\"\n\n\"Oh, of different heights; some as many as five or six feet, others are\ntwelve, and the largest are as high as twenty feet, and would easily\nhold a dozen men.\"\n\n\"And how large are the ants, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Not above a quarter of an inch high as they stand. Now, boys, just\ncompare the size of one of these nests with the size of the ant that\nmade it; and it is quite as large in proportion as the city of New-York\nis when compared to a man's size; yes, it is a great deal larger in\nproportion. These nests are sometimes five hundred times as high as the\nants which build them: now suppose that men built their houses five\nhundred times as high as themselves, and as large at the foundation in\nproportion to their height, what monstrous buildings they would be! But\nlet me go on. This outside shell, which I have been telling you how they\nmake, is nothing but the wall of the city; the buildings are all inside\nof that.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, there is one thing I have been thinking of which\nwould make it more like a city still. But I hardly think they can have\nthat.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Why in a city, you know, where there are a great many people, there are\na great many trades: some do one thing and some do another to get money.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is true; and I am glad that you mentioned it, because it\nreminds me of one thing I intended to tell you about these ants. Now,\nit would not be reasonable, you know, to expect the ants to have many\ndifferent kinds of business to do, as the people in New-York have; but\nstill, boys, they are not all alike, and they do have work of different\nkinds. There are in the city of the white ants a king and a queen, and\nsoldiers, and labourers, or workmen, and all these are different. Here\nare pictures which will show them all to you. This is the king.\n\n[Illustration: King of the Termites.]\n\nAt first he has four wings, but soon loses them. He never grows any\nlarger after he loses them. The king may be known by his having two\nlarge eyes. Here is the queen. She is the mother of the whole city;\nand you see what a large body she has. It is full of eggs, and eighty\nthousand will come from her in twenty-four hours. She also has two eyes.\n\n[Illustration: Queen of the Termites.]\n\n\"Here is a soldier: he has a large head, armed with two hooks, shaped\nlike a crooked awl, and very sharp.\n\n[Illustration: Soldier of the Termites.]\n\n\"For every one of these soldiers there are about one hundred labourers.\nThe soldiers do the fighting; and though they are perfectly blind, they\nfight well, and are very brave. The following is a picture, too, of the\nsoldiers' awls, seen through the microscope, to show you how sharp they\nare.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"And here is a picture of the labourer; the largest part of the city is\nmade up of the labourers,--which shows us, I think, boys, that there is\nmore need of working than there is of fighting.\n\n[Illustration: Labourer of the Termites.]\n\nThis class, like the soldiers, is blind, and scarcely ever go into the\nopen air; their work is mostly under ground or in the inside of wood.\nBoth, however, do come out when their city is attacked and broken: but I\nwill tell you of that presently.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[9] M. Humboldt.\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION X.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children more about the White Ants._\n\n\n\"Now, boys, as I have told you about the kinds of different work which\nthese ants do, we will go on, and I will tell you about the inside\nof the city. The first thing to be done is to build a house for the\nking and queen. This is the first house built in the city, and always\nstands in the centre, directly under the point of the roof or top of\nthe outside wall. It is built nearly on a level with the ground, and is\nshaped very much like a long oven, or the half of an egg split through\nthe long way. The floor is exactly level, and about an inch thick; the\nroof is about the same thickness. The doors are on a level with the\nfloor, and just large enough to let one of the labourers go in.\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip, how do the king and queen ever get out then.\"\n\n\"They never do get out, boys; they live in that house always, and they\nare not the first kings and queens who have found that a palace is\nsometimes a prison. Just around this house of the king and queen are\nother houses built of clay, arched at the top, and of different shapes.\nThese are for the servants or labouring ants, who remove the eggs of\nthe queen as fast as she discharges them. The soldiers also live in\nthese houses. Next to these are the magazines, that is, the houses where\nthey keep their food, such as dry juices of trees and gums; and mixed\nup with these are the nurseries. These are made by the labourers, and\nare different from all the other buildings, for they are made of wood\ngnawed or broken into fine threads, and joined together with some kind\nof gum, and around each of them there is a case of clay. These nurseries\nare to carry the eggs into for the young ants to be hatched. Between\nall these different houses or parts there are thousands of galleries\nor ways, which run among them and separate them from each other, and\nthese may be called the streets of the city. These streets run in all\ndirections, and extend as far as the outside wall; and houses are built\non top of houses, and streets run over streets, until they reach up\nas high as two-thirds of the inside wall. But under the top of their\noutside case they always leave a large open place that is never filled\nup with houses. And around this space they will build three or four\nlarge arches, sometimes two or three feet high; these I suppose are to\nprevent the houses from falling in towards the centre of the city, which\nis an open space, and on the other side they are fastened to the outside\nwalls, so that these houses are very firm.\"\n\n\"And what is all this made of, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"All of clay, except the nurseries, which I told you were made of wood\nand gum. Over the house of the king and queen there is a sort of flat\nfloor, some distance above it, with nurseries and magazines between the\nunder side of it and the top of the queen's house. This floor will not\nlet the water through it, so as to wet the palace where the king and\nqueen live, but will turn it off into large trenches or gutters under\nground, of which I will speak directly. The bridge I told you of they\nbuild from this floor in the open space, directly under the top or dome\nof the outside wall; it rises up and is joined to some hole in the side\nwall of the houses above it.\"\n\n\"How large is it, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Why, sometimes it is half an inch broad, a quarter of an inch thick,\nand ten inches long; all made of clay, so that it is very strange how\nthey manage to join it to the wall without its falling down by its own\nweight while they were building it.\"\n\n\"And what do you suppose this bridge is for, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Why, I think there can be no doubt what it is for. When the city has\nbeen growing for some time, some of the nurseries will be very high up\nabove the queen's house; but the labourers have to carry her eggs into\nthem, no matter how far off they may be. If they carry them through all\nthe streets, they will have to walk as many as fifteen or twenty feet,\nfor it would be five or six feet in a perfectly straight line, and these\nstreets are very crooked; but if they make a bridge in the open space\nin the centre, they can then go from the queen's house over the bridge,\nand get to the upper nurseries without travelling more than two feet. So\nthey made the bridge to shorten the way, to be sure.\"\n\n\"This is very wonderful: but you said something about large trenches or\ngutters underground; what are they, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"These galleries lead from the city under ground, and are as large as\nthe bore of a large cannon; they are thirteen inches across, and more\nthan a hundred yards long. I have already told you that the labourers\nnever come out into the light, when they can help it; and these\nunderground ways are the great roads to the city, to fetch in clay, or\nwood, or water, or provisions: and now I will tell you another thing\nwhich shows a great deal of sense. As some of their houses are very high\nup, you know they would find it very hard to climb up through all the\nstreets with a heavy load in a straight line; so when these large ways\nunderground reach the outside wall, they just come through and keep on\nwinding around the inside of it like a corkscrew all the way to the top;\nand there are other galleries opening from it at different places into\nthe city. One thing has been noticed about these ants; they can scarcely\nclimb at all up a perpendicular wall. Therefore on the upright side of\nany part of the city you may see a road made, standing out from the wall\nlike a ledge; it is flat on the top, and half an inch wide, and goes\nup gradually like a stair-case, or like a road cut out on the side of a\nmountain.\n\n\"Here is a picture of one of their cities cut straight down through the\nmiddle. At the bottom, in the centre, is the queen's house; over it is a\nfloor, and the two crooked things you see rising up from the floor, are\nbridges.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, you said you would tell us about the soldiers and\nlabourers coming out when the city is attacked.\"\n\n\"Yes, I did. As soon as a hole is made in the outside wall, you will\nsee a soldier run out, and walk about as if to look around; but as he\nis blind, it cannot be to see what the danger is. He may have some way\nthough of finding out without seeing. Presently he will go in, as if\nto tell the others, and then out pour the soldiers in great numbers,\nas fast as the hole will let them; and just as long as you strike the\noutside wall, they will continue to rush out. They seem to be in a\nterrible passion. They are in such a hurry that sometimes they slip, and\nroll down the outside of the hill; but they jump up again instantly,\nand begin to bite every thing they run against, for they are blind and\ncannot tell a friend from an enemy.\"\n\n\"Do they bite hard, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Very hard indeed. They make their hooked jaws, which are like awls, you\nknow, meet at every bite; and if it should happen to be a man's leg they\nget hold of, you would see upon his stocking a spot of blood an inch\nlong. At every bite too you may hear their jaws snapping together and\nmaking quite a noise. Some of them too (perhaps they are the officers)\nare constantly beating with their awls upon the outside wall, and make a\nsound something quicker and sharper than the ticking of a watch. You may\nhear it at a distance of three or four feet. When these biters lay hold,\nnothing will make them let go; you must tear them away by pieces. After\nyou stop striking the wall, in about half an hour they seem to get over\ntheir rage and go back into the city, and then out come the labourers.\nWhile the noise continues you will not see one of them; they all fled\nat the first appearance of danger. But now they come, each one with a\nbundle of mortar in his mouth, ready made; and they stick it on the hole\nso fast, and with such order, that though thousands and thousands are at\nwork they never interrupt each other. And while the labourers are busy,\nif you look you may commonly see a soldier or two walking about; but\nthey never touch the mortar, nor help in any way to mend the hole. One\nof these soldiers always stands near the spot where the labourers are at\nwork, and every now and then turns slowly around, and frequently lifts\nup his head, and with his awls beats upon the building, and makes a\nsort of hissing noise. As soon as that is done you may hear a loud hiss\nfrom all the labourers, both on the outside of the wall and from the\ninside of the city, and then the labourers run faster, and work as quick\nagain. If you attack the nest again, away run all the labourers as fast\nas their legs will carry them, and out pour the soldiers as before; and\nthe same thing is always seen upon every attack, of soldiers to fight\nand labourers to work.\"\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, this is a very strange story; much more interesting\nthan any we have yet heard.\"\n\n\"I thought it would please you, boys; but there are still stranger\nthings among animals, and perhaps you will say so when you know more.\n\n\"But it is now time to return home; so take in the kite and let us be\ngoing.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[10] Mr. Huber the younger.\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION XI.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Children about some other Ants, that\n     are very good Masons, and build Walls and Ceilings; and a Story\n     about a very sensible Ant, which seemed to think a little._\n\n\n\"Good morning, good morning, Uncle Philip; we have been so much\ndelighted with the stories about the white ants, that we hope you have\nmore of the same kind to tell us.\"\n\n\"Why, as to that matter, boys, I can tell you much more about ants, for\nthere are many kinds of them; but I am not sure that I can show you any\nof the _tools_ with which they work, though a large portion of their\nwork is like that of man; and they have, too, several customs which our\nfellow-creatures have. I can tell you, however, of several other animals\nwhich do use tools shaped like those used by men, if you would rather\nhear of them.\"\n\n\"If you please, Uncle Philip, we will hear of them at another time; but\nnow we would rather have you tell us of the other kinds of ants.\"\n\n\"Oh, very well, boys; it shall be as you wish. All that I desire is to\ninstruct and amuse you, and I am sure that the ants can furnish a good\nlesson to us. I shall begin with the mason ants. They always build their\nnests either of clay which is damp, and dug from the inside of their\ncity under ground, or which has been made wet by the rain; and a part of\ntheir building is always above the ground, so that you can easily see\nit. There is no fixed rule for the ants to build by. Their cities are\nnot all alike in the inside. Sometimes the walls are larger and coarser,\nand the ways and galleries are higher, than at other times. The rooms,\ntoo, are different in shape and size, so that this industrious little\ninsect seems to have sense enough to work in the best way according to\ncircumstances. There is only one general rule which they seem to have,\nand that is always to build in a number of different stories, one above\nthe other. If you examine one of these stories you may see a number\nof large places or halls, some smaller rooms, and some long galleries\nwhich serve as passage-ways. The tops of these large halls are covered\nwith an arched ceiling, and this ceiling is held up, sometimes by little\ncolumns, sometimes by very thin walls, or by props built against the\nside walls, just like buttresses. There are also chambers which have but\none door, which opens into the lower story, and large open places in the\ncentre of the nest something like a cross road, and all these little\ngalleries or streets come into that open place.\"\n\n\"Any bridges, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"No, boys; no bridges among these ants, so far as I know. There will\nsometimes be as many as twenty stories above ground in the ant-hill, and\nas many below. The best time to see these little fellows at work is in a\ngentle shower of rain, or directly after.\"\n\n\"Why do they work in the rain, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"I suppose, boys, it is because the earth is then better for them; and\none thing that has been noticed about their work is, that the rain, when\nit is not too violent, seems to make it solid, for these ants have no\ngum or glue about them like some other insects, to make the earth stick\ntogether. As soon as the rain begins, if you watch the brown ants, you\nmay see them come out of the ground in great numbers; and then running\nin again, they will soon return, each one with a little piece of dirt\nin his mouth, which he puts down upon the roof of the nest. A gentleman\nwho watched them very closely[10] says, that at first he could not think\nwhat this was done for, but at last he saw little walls begin to rise up\nwith spaces left between them. In some places pillars were begun, placed\nat regular distances, and he knew that these were to support ceilings;\nso he found out that they were going to build another story to their\nhouse, and they were laying the foundations.\"\n\n\"How I should have liked to see them. Uncle Philip. I would not have\ncared for the rain.\"\n\n\"Ah, I see you are fit to be a naturalist. You know what that word\nmeans, do you not?\"\n\n\"It means, Uncle Philip, a man who loves to study about the animals and\ninsects, does it not?\"\n\n\"It means a man or a woman either, boys, who loves to study the things\nin nature no matter whether they are animals, or stones, or grass, or\nflowers, or any of the things which God has made. Mark, boys, I said\nto study the things, and you said to study _about_ the things. Now a\nperson may read a great deal that is interesting and true about all\nthese things in books; and it is very well to do so; but I think that\nthe real naturalist will never be satisfied with books only; he will\nbe looking to see things for himself. And I said a woman might be a\nnaturalist, because some ladies have been fond of natural history, and\nhave proved themselves to be very good naturalists. But let us go back\nto the ants. Mr. Huber, in the account which he gives of his having\nwatched these little workmen, never thought of telling us whether he\ngot wet or not, because he was too busy to think or care much about it.\nHe had an opportunity of seeing what he might never see again, and a\nlittle rain was not to spoil it. He says that each ant, as it brought\nout its little lump of dirt, would place it on the spot where it wished\nit to be, and press against it with its teeth, so as to make it fit\nclosely. It then rubbed its feelers all over it, and after that pressed\nupon it lightly with its fore-feet. The walls went on very rapidly, and\nit often happened that two little walls, which were to make a passage\nor gallery, would be raised opposite and at a small distance from each\nother. When they were about a quarter of an inch high, the ants would\nset to work and cover them with an arched ceiling. After they had raised\nall the walls as high as they wished, on the inside of each wall at the\ntop they began to put in pieces of wet dirt almost level, and in such a\nway as to make a ledge; and by joining on more dirt to it, it would meet\nthe ledge made from the opposite wall so as to make a roof: these roofs\nover the galleries were about a quarter of an inch across. The ceilings\nover the large halls were sometimes as much as two inches in breadth,\nand to support these they raised pillars; and beginning in the corner\nwhere two walls joined, they would commence the ceiling with a ledge,\nwhile from the top of each pillar they would also build out a layer of\nearth a little rounded on the top; these they continued to add to until\nall met and made a complete cover for the hall.\"\n\n\"I wonder it did not fall, Uncle Philip, before they could join it\ntogether.\"\n\n\"Mr. Huber says that he thought several times it would fall, from the\nrain which was dropping upon it all the time; but he found that the\npieces held together, and that the rain, instead of hurting it, only\nmade it more solid. All that it wants, when the ants have done, is a\nlittle heat from the sun to bake it hard, and then it appears like a\npiece of solid dirt. Sometimes, if the rain be violent, the apartments\nwill be destroyed, especially if the arches are not built strongly; and\nwhen this happens, the little creatures go to work very patiently and\nrebuild them.\"\n\n\"And how long, Uncle Philip, did it take the ants to put another story\non their house?\"\n\n\"Between seven and eight hours; and they had hardly finished one before\nthey began another, but they had not time to finish it, for the rain\nstopped before they had built much: however, they kept on, taking\nadvantage of the wet earth; but a cold drying wind soon sprang up, and\nthe earth would not stick; so they stopped: but what do you think they\ndid with the new story which they had not time to finish?\"\n\n\"What _did_ they do, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Pulled every part of it to pieces, and scattered the dirt here and\nthere over the roof of the story which they had finished.\n\n\"I will tell you another story about these ants, boys, which I think is\nmost wonderful, because it appears so much like reason. These insects\nall seem to work separately,--I mean without attending to the work of\nothers: of course sometimes the work done by different ants on opposite\nsides of the same gallery or hall will not suit: one wall will be higher\nthan the other, so that the ceilings will not meet. Mr. Huber saw just\nsuch a case; the ceiling which was begun from one wall would just have\nreached the other wall about half-way up; and while he was wondering\nhow the ants would cure the fault, one of them came, and looking at the\nwork, seemed to know that it was wrong, and immediately began by taking\ndown the ceiling from the lower wall; he then raised it to the same\nheight with the opposite wall, and made a new ceiling in Mr. Huber's\npresence with the pieces of the old one.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, if that ant did not know how to think, I am mistaken.\"\n\n\"I must confess, boys, it does seem very much like thinking; and if it\nwas not thinking, we must at any rate own that it was something which,\n_in this case_, did quite as well; for no thought of man could have hit\nupon a better plan. But if the ant knew how to think as a man does, do\nyou suppose it would ever have made the mistake? Would not the workmen\nhave all agreed beforehand what they were to do, and how it should be\ndone, so that there might be no need of pulling down any of the work\nbecause it would not suit? I think that this story, boys, while it shows\nus something like reason in _one_ particular instance, shows us also\nthat _in general_ the ant has not reason like ours. But I am tired now,\nand can tell you no more this morning. When you come again I shall be\nready to talk with you about some other kinds of ants. But before you\ngo, tell me--can any of you inform me what the Bible says about the ant?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, Uncle Philip: it says, 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider\nher ways, and be wise.'\"\n\n\"Well, another question. Have you any lessons to say when you go into\nschool on Monday?\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Philip; we have.\"\n\n\"Have you learned them, boys?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Then remember what the Bible says to the sluggard, and go and learn\nthem at once. Good-by, children.\"\n\n\"Good-by, Uncle Philip: we will learn our lessons.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION XII.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Boys about Ants that go to War and\n     fight Battles; and about some that are Thieves, and have Slaves._\n\n\n\"Well, my lads, how do you do to-day?\"\n\n\"Very well, Uncle Philip, we thank you. And we wish to let you know that\nwe kept our promise to learn our lessons. Our teacher was very well\nsatisfied with every one of us.\"\n\n\"That is well, boys. I am truly glad to hear this from you: and I make\nno doubt that you also felt a great deal happier than you would have\ndone had you neglected to learn your lessons. Did you not?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, Uncle Philip, much happier; and far more cheerful and\ngood-natured.\"\n\n\"Such are apt to be the feelings, boys, of those who have done their\n_duty_. I am verily persuaded that there is no such thing as real, solid\nhappiness in this world, but in that man who acts from a sense of duty.\nHis is true peace, because it is 'the peace of God.' I do not say, boys,\nthat a man, even when he does his duty, _always_ feels comfortable or\nhappy _at once_; but he will be more apt to feel so than if he did not\ndo his duty: and I do say that no man who does not act from a sense of\nduty, is likely to feel any thing like happiness very often or very\nlong.\"\n\n\"Then, Uncle Philip, a man who wishes to be happy will try in the first\nplace to find out what his duty is.\"\n\n\"To be sure, he will; and he need not try very long either, if he really\nwishes to know it. The will of God, boys, is at the bottom of all our\nduties; and an honest man, yes, or boy either, can commonly tell what\nGod will think to be right or wrong in his conduct. You know where a\ngreat many of our duties are very plainly written down for us; do you\nnot?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, sir; in the New Testament, which tells us of what our Saviour\nsaid and did.\"\n\n\"True. And what our Saviour commanded, boys, God commanded; for He is\nGod. But besides this, when it is not exactly written down in the New\nTestament what we should do, still if we will think, we shall very often\nfind out what to do, from what is written.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, we almost always know what you mean; but now, we do not\nquite understand you.\"\n\n\"Thank you, boys, for telling me that you do not know what I mean:\nalways tell any person who is trying to teach you something, when you\ndo not understand what is said to you. Now I will try to make what I\nsaid plainer to you. The New Testament does not say any thing about your\ngoing to school; does it?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Who sends you to school, boys, and pays your teachers for instructing\nyou?\"\n\n\"Our parents, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Very well. Now suppose that John Carter here, should wish, instead of\ngoing to school, to do, what I am very sure he never did do: suppose he\nshould determine to play the truant. The Bible does not say a boy shall\nnot play the truant, does it?\"\n\n\"No, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"But if John Carter should play the truant, he would, in doing so,\ndisobey what God has commanded in the Bible just as much as if the Bible\ndid say 'A boy shall not play the truant;' for the Bible does say,\n'_Children obey your parents_,' and he could not be a truant without\ndisobeying his parents, who bade him go to school.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, we understand you very well now.\"\n\n\"There is another thing I wish you to understand, boys. John Carter, as\nyou see, would not only disobey his parents, which is wicked, but he\nwould also commit a _sin_ against God. That is always the thing to look\nat first. When we are going to do something that we are not very sure\nis right, we should always stop to ask ourselves whether God will be\npleased with it. But I have said enough to you about our duty for this\ntime. Now for the ants I promised to tell you of. And the first sort I\nshall mention are great fighters.\"\n\n\"Fighters, Uncle Philip! What do they fight about?\"\n\n\"About trifles, boys, just as men do. They have terrible wars, and\nwill dispute with and kill each other for a few inches of dirt, when\ncertainly this world is large enough for them all. But animals wiser\nthan ants, boys, act in the same foolish way. Men sometimes go to war\nand kill each other to determine who shall have a river, or a small\ntown, or a fort, or some little spot of ground; while the poor creatures\nwho do the fighting, and get all the wounds, and lose their lives, had\nthey been let alone, would have lived on in peace, and never cared a\nstraw who had the miserable little spot they fight for. But let me go\non with the account of these ants. In the forests, where the fallow\nants live, you may see these wars. The battle will be between the ants\nof different hills, but they are all ants of the same sort. Thousands\nand thousands of them will meet on the ground between their hills, and\nthe battle begins by two ants, who seize each other by the claws (or\n_mandibles_, as they are called), and rising up on their hind-legs,\nthey bring their bodies near together, and spirt a sort of venomous or\npoisonous juice upon each other. These will be followed by thousands of\nothers on both sides, who seize each other in the same way, and fight\nin pairs--ant to ant. Sometimes they will get so wedged together that\nthey fall down upon their sides, but they do not let go on that account;\nthey keep on fighting in the dust until they rise on their feet again.\nSometimes, too, a third ant will come in, and joining whichever of\nthem belongs to his nest, the two will begin to drag the third, until\nsome of his friends come to his help; and in this way, others joining\non both sides, they will form strings of six, or eight, or ten on a\nside, pulling with all their strength. And while some are fighting,\nyou will see others leading off prisoners towards their hills, while\nthe prisoners are trying to escape. The field of battle is not more,\nperhaps, than three feet square; multitudes of dead ants covered with\nvenom may be seen upon it, and there is a very strong scent which comes\nfrom it. When night comes they go off to their hills. Before dawn the\nnext day they are at it again in still larger numbers, and they fight\nwith greater fury than before, until at last one side or the other\ngives way. They are so busy that even if you stand near them they take\nno notice of you, and not one stops fighting, or crawls up your legs.\"\n\n\"Do all of them that belong to the hill go out to fight, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"No; near the hills all is peace and order, and work seems to be going\non as usual. Only on the side next to the battle, crowds may be seen\nrunning backwards and forwards from both hills; some as messengers, I\nsuppose, and some to fight, or carry back prisoners.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, you said that these ants were all of one sort; how\nthen do they know one another so as to tell which party each one belongs\nto? I should think that sometimes they would make a mistake, and fight a\nfriend instead of an enemy.\"\n\n\"This, boys, is one of the most wonderful things concerning them. They\nare alike in form, and size, and weapons, and strength; and sometimes\nit happens that they do make a mistake, but it is very seldom; and when\nthey do, Mr. Huber, who watched one of their battles, says that they\nfind it out directly, and caress each other with their feelers, and\nmake up the difficulty at once.\n\n\"Are you tired, boys, or do you wish to hear more?\"\n\n\"Oh, let us hear more, by all means: we are not at all tired.\"\n\n\"I will then tell you of another kind of ants called legionary ants,\nand sometimes amazons; but I am sorry to say that they are unlike other\nants, for they are lazy; and yet they live very comfortably.\"\n\n\"How is that, Uncle Philip? Can they be comfortable without working?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, if they can get others to work for them; and these have\ntheir work mostly done by their slaves.\"\n\n\"By their slaves! what are their slaves, and where did they get them?\"\n\n\"As to your first question, boys, their slaves are ants of another kind;\nas to the second question--where they get them--they _stole_ them when\nthey were young.\"\n\n\"Why you surprise us, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"I dare say I do. There are persons much older than you are who have\nnever attended at all to the doings of insects, who would be very much\nastonished by the history of the legionary ants; and probably would\nlaugh at the whole account as an idle story; and yet it is all true,\nand those who have read and seen, know it to be true; and they know,\ntoo, that to deny it shows nothing but ignorance. However, I always let\nsuch persons alone. I can do them no good; for they are apt to be very\nconceited, and will not be convinced. And now for the legionary ant.\nThis is a fighting ant, as well as the last I mentioned; and it actually\nsteals the young of another kind, rears them, and puts all the work on\nthem, so as to be idle itself. This curious fact was first found out\nby Mr. Huber; another gentleman, named Latreille, afterward saw the\nsame thing; and now a great many naturalists know it, because they have\nsought for and seen it. The ant which it steals is of a dark ash colour;\nthe legionary is of light colour. The dark-coloured ant is now called\nthe negro ant, and is a very industrious, peaceable insect, without any\nsting. The legionary is a strong, brave ant, with a sting, but very\nlazy. I shall relate to you the account which Mr. Huber gives of the\nlegionary. He was walking near the city of Geneva during an afternoon\nin the summer of 1804, when he saw quite an army of these legionary\nants crossing the road; they passed through a thick hedge, entered a\npasture, and kept on through the grass without separating; and Mr. Huber\nfollowed them until he saw them come near a nest of negro ants. Some of\nthese negro ants seemed to be guarding the holes into their nest; but as\nsoon as they saw the legionaries, they, with a great many more from the\ninside of the nest, attacked the thieves. The legionary ants, however,\nwere too powerful for them, and after a short but severe fight they\nconquered the negroes, who ran into the lower part of their nests. The\nlegionaries then mounted their ant-hill, some entered it by the holes\nalready made, and others began with their teeth to break other holes,\nso that all the army might get into the hill. They went in and remained\nbut a few minutes, when they came out, each one having in his mouth a\nyoung negro ant, and off they scampered, without any order among them,\nevery one going his own way, until Mr. Huber lost sight of them. The\nnext day he set out to go back and examine further, and on his way he\nfound a large ant-hill full of legionaries, and saw an army start from\nit, which he followed. They made the attack as before, and each one\ncame off with a young negro ant in his mouth, and on going back to their\nhill, from which Mr. Huber saw them start, he had an opportunity of\nseeing them return, and was very much surprised to find all around the\nnest of the legionaries a great many full-grown negro ants. At first he\nthought that perhaps they had gone there to fight the legionaries, but\nhe soon saw that instead of fighting, the negro ants went out to meet\nthe legionaries returning, and would caress them, and give them food,\nand finally take the young negro ants and carry them within the nest.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, why do the legionaries always take the young ones?\"\n\n\"Because, boys, they know, I suppose, that the old ants would never be\nsatisfied to remove from their homes; and therefore they take the young.\nThese legionaries could work if they would, I think, but they depend\nupon the negro ants for house and home, and food too; and nothing can be\nmore faithful and affectionate than these poor slaves are. To try them,\nMr. Huber took thirty of the legionaries, and put them with some of\nthe larv\u0102\u00a6, or grubs of their own young, into a glass box with a thick\ncoat of earth at the bottom of it, and he put honey also in the box,\nthat they might not want food. At first the legionaries paid a little\nattention to their young; but they soon stopped; and they neither tried\nto make a house, nor took any food, so that in two days half of them\ndied. Mr. Huber then put in _one_ negro ant, and this little creature\nset to work alone, made a chamber of the earth in the box, gathered the\nyoung together, fed the old, and put every thing into complete order.\n\n\"At another time Mr. Huber broke one of the ant-hills of these\nlegionaries, to see how they would act, and in doing it, he, of course,\naltered their galleries and chambers. The legionaries seemed to be\nlost, and went wandering about, without knowing where to go; but the\nnegro ants appeared to understand very well where they were: they could\nfind such of the galleries as were not broken, and would take up the\nlegionaries in their mouths and carry them into them. If the negro\nsometimes seemed for a short time to be lost, and not to know where it\nwas, it laid down its master, ran round and examined until it knew, and\nthen would come back, and pick up the legionary ant, and carry it off.\nIn one case Mr. Huber saw that the entrance to a gallery was stopped up\nby a small lump of earth; the negro ant laid his master down, took away\nthe piece of earth, and then carried him in.\"\n\n\"Why, these poor negro ants are sensible as well as faithful, Uncle\nPhilip.\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, they are so; and I think it is likely that both kinds depend\nin some way upon each other, but we have not yet found all about it. I\nexpect that in some things the legionary does for the negro ant what it\ncould not do for itself. God has made them necessary to each other, and\nthis is the reason they live together so kindly.\n\n\"But I think it is time now to leave the ants, and go back to our\nbusiness of seeking for something like man's inventions and tools among\nthe lower animals. Perhaps hereafter I may tell you more about ants; but\nat present I must bid you good morning.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION XIII.\n\n     _Uncle Philip and the Boys make a Voyage, and he tells them\n     of an Animal that makes itself into a Ship; and of an Insect that\n     builds a Boat, and floats about in a Canoe; and of another that\n     pumps Water, and wears a Mask; and of a Spider that builds a Raft,\n     and floats upon it._\n\n\n\"Well, boys, I have a most delightful plan for us to-day.\"\n\n\"What is it, what is it, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Why, I have a little voyage to make, and my boat is on the river just\nabove the mill. I have the men there to row it, and every thing is\nready.\"\n\n\"Oh! dear Uncle Philip, this is charming! we shall be so happy!\nBut--but--\"\n\n\"But what, boys?\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip, we have not asked leave at home. Now our parents are\nvery happy to have us visit you, and say that they are very much obliged\nto you for telling us so many things; but they have told us, too, never\nto get into a boat without asking their permission first. Uncle Philip,\nwe are sure they will let us go, if they know that you are going; only\nlet us run home and ask them.\"\n\n\"My dear boys, I am very much pleased with your conduct; and, what\nis far better, my children, God is pleased; for he has commanded you\nto honour your father and mother: but you need not go home to ask\npermission, for you may depend upon it I would not take one of you upon\nthe water without the consent of your parents: so I went yesterday,\nwhile you were all at school, and have got permission from your friends\nfor every one of you to go--only I asked them to tell you nothing about\nit.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, Uncle Philip, you are so very, very good: thank you, thank\nyou, a thousand times over.\"\n\n\"Once is enough, boys. There is but one Being who deserves a thousand\nthanks, and he, in truth, deserves a great many more than a thousand;\nbut I fear that from a great many he is just the Being who gets the\nfewest,--it is our Heavenly Father: but come on, boys, let us be going\nto the boat. We shall soon reach her. Ah, yonder she is; I see her\nthrough the trees.\"\n\n\"Oh, what a beauty she is, Uncle Philip, with her green sides and white\nbelt near the top. We shall have a charming voyage.\"\n\n\"Come, then; get in, my little sailors, and seat yourselves yonder in\nthe stern. Now we are all ready; shove off, men, and use your oars. I\nwill take care of the helm.\"\n\n\"Oh, Uncle Philip, how smoothly we go along! this is charming. Is this\nthe way a ship goes, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"A ship floats, boys, just as the boat does; but she is not rowed with\noars; she has sails, and the wind blowing upon them sends her along.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, there are no ships among animals, are there?\"\n\n\"Oh no; but there is a very curious little animal which lives in the\nwater, and manages to rig out something like a ship, and to sail.\"\n\n\"What is it, Uncle Philip? pray let us hear of it.\"\n\n\"It is called the nautilus, and I saw a great many of them in the\nMediterranean sea. The shell is nearly round, and six or eight inches\nacross, not much thicker than paper, and of a whitish colour: it\nhas, too, a keel or ridge upon each side. When it wishes to sail, it\nstretches upwards two of its legs: these have a very thin skin at the\nend, which the nautilus spreads out for sails, and the other legs hang\nover on each side of the shell for oars or rudders. When the sea is\ncalm, a great many of them may be seen playing about; but as soon as a\nstorm arises, or they are disturbed, they take in their sails and sink\nto the bottom. But, boys, the most curious boat that I know, made by one\nof the dumb creatures, is the work of the little insect that played the\ndoctor the other day, and stuck his lancet into us. Do you remember what\ninsect that was?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, very well, Uncle Philip, it was the gnat.\"\n\n\"True, boys, it was the gnat, which is an insect that spends the first\npart of its life in the water, and the latter part in the air. The grub\nof the gnat lives in water, and I will give you the whole history of\nthis curious insect. We will first speak of the eggs, for out of these\nit is that the boat is made. In order to see this boat made, you must\ngo early in the morning, between five and six o'clock, to a bucket, or\npond of stagnant water, where gnats are to be found: if you go later\nyou will not see it. The gnat's eggs are shaped something like a pocket\npowder-flask, and it is by putting a great many of these together that\nshe makes the boat. To do this, the mother gnat stands by her fore-legs\nupon the side of the bucket, or on a leaf or stick in the pond, and her\nbody is on a level with the water, and rests upon it, except the last\nring of her tail, which she raises a little. She then crosses her two\nhind-legs in the shape of the letter X, and begins to put her eggs in\nthat part of the X nearest to her body. So she brings her legs, crossed\nin this way, near to her body, and puts an egg in the angle, covered\nwith a kind of glue, which will make the eggs stick together. On each\nside of the first egg she puts another in this shape .*., and here is a\ndrawing of the insect at this part of her work.\n\n[Illustration: A Gnat making her Boat of Eggs.]\n\n\"She then goes on adding eggs, which are all put in the water with their\nends downwards, until she has got her boat half-finished; she then\nuncrosses her legs, and just keeps one on each side of the boat as she\ngoes on, until she has completed it.\"\n\n\"And how many eggs, Uncle Philip, will she put together in this way?\"\n\n\"From two hundred and fifty to three hundred and fifty, and when all are\nlaid they make quite a good boat, sharp, and raised at both ends, and\nfloating on the water. Then the mother gnat leaves it. Here is a picture\nof one of these boats.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Now I will tell you of what becomes of the young ones in these eggs.\nThey come out of the lower part of the egg, and commonly swim, with\ntheir heads downward, near to the top of the water.\"\n\n\"With their heads downward, Uncle Philip! what is that for?\"\n\n\"Why, they have a tube at the end of their bodies, near the tail,\nthrough which they breathe; and that part must, you know, be at the top\nto get air. Besides this, its tail and its breathing tube both end in a\nsort of funnel, made up of hairs placed somewhat in the form of a star,\nand covered with oil, so as to keep off water, and these buoy or float\nit up. When it wishes to sink, it just folds up its funnels, and shuts\nup in them a little bubble of air, which it breathes under the water;\nand when it wishes to rise, it opens its funnels, and they float it to\nthe top again. Here is a drawing which will show it to you.\n\n[Illustration: Larva of the common Gnat floating in water, greatly\nmagnified. _aa_, the body and head of the larva; _b_, the respiratory\napparatus, situated in the tail; _c_, the larva, not magnified.]\n\n\"They are hatched in a few days, and then the boat of empty eggs floats\nabout until it is destroyed by the weather. And to show you how good a\nboat it is, I will tell you what a gentleman did to prove it. Mr. Kirby,\nwho is very fond of natural history, and has written a great deal about\ninsects, says that he put half a dozen of these gnat-boats in a tumbler\nhalf full of water, and then poured upon them a stream from the mouth of\na quart bottle, held up a foot above them, and he could not sink them.\nMore than that, the water would not stay in them. If you push one to the\nbottom with your finger, it will come up to the top directly, and you\ncannot see any water in it.\"\n\n\"Why, this is a noble boat, Uncle Philip, that will never sink.\"\n\n\"True, boys; but listen, and you will find that before it can use its\nwings the gnat has to sail in another boat still, much more dangerous\nthan this is. After it is hatched, it has to pass through several shapes\nbefore it gets to be such an insect as you see. Here is a picture which\nwill show you its different shapes.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"The first is the same which you saw in the last picture, only in this\ndrawing the head is uppermost. But its last change, when it becomes\nan insect with wings, is the most curious part of the whole. When it\nis about to get its wings, and become a perfect gnat, it raises its\nshoulders just above the top of the water, and its skin cracks, so that\nthe head of the gnat immediately comes through. The shoulders come next,\nand make the crack larger; but it has yet all its body to get out, and\nits legs and wings are as yet all shut up in its case. Now is the time\nof danger for the gnat. It raises itself nearly straight out of the\ncrack, and by wriggling works its body along: and if a particle of water\nshould get upon the case, or touch its wings, it would be overset, and\nmust perish. Thousands and thousands die in this way. It is so very\nlight, too, that the wind will drive it about, and whirl it round and\nround upon the top of the water; and when it is almost out, the insect\nis tossed about in a canoe or boat of the very weakest sort, while its\nbody is a mast, which appears much too large for so small a boat. At\nlast it gets far enough out of the case to stretch its fore-legs, and\nput them down upon the water (which will bear a gnat's weight), and then\nit is safe; it spreads its wings, and soon leaves the little boat which\nwas so dangerous. Here is a picture of the gnat getting out of its case.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Well, Uncle Philip, all this is very strange; we never knew before that\nthe gnat was a sailor.\"\n\n\"I suppose that you did not, boys. But as we are talking of boats, pray\ncan you think of any way of making a boat move through water without\noars, or paddles, or sails, or something to pull it along?\"\n\n\"No indeed.--Oh yes, Uncle Philip, by steam.\"\n\n\"Ah, I mentioned paddles, boys, and a steamboat is forced along by them.\"\n\n\"No; Uncle Philip, we do not know.\"\n\n\"Well, I will tell you then of another way in which I have no doubt a\nboat might be made to move. If there were any contrivance by which a\nlarge quantity of water could be kept in the boat, and if this water\nwere forced out of tubes or holes at one end very violently, it would\npush against the water in which the boat was floating, and force her\nalong. Some years ago a plan was thought of to make a steam engine throw\nthe water out of the stern of the boat, and thus to force her along; and\nbefore that, Dr. Franklin tried some schemes for the same purpose, but\nthey never succeeded. Now there is an insect which adopts precisely this\nplan, and perhaps some of those who thought of it got the notion from\nthe insect.\"\n\n\"What insect is it, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"It is the grub of the dragon-fly. If you catch one of these grubs and\nput it into a saucer of water with some of the dead leaves or sticks\nit had for a covering, you will see these leaves or sticks floating\ntowards the tail of the grub, and afterward driven off again. This is\nbecause the insect is pumping in water, and then throwing it out. If you\ntake one of them out of the water, and hold it with its head down, and\nlet a drop of water fall upon its tail, it instantly sucks it in, and\nyou can see it grow larger; and when it throws it out again it becomes\nsmaller.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, how can you see it suck the water in?\"\n\n\"Very easily, boys. When it is in the water, if you will colour some\nother water with indigo, or ink, or any thing else, and then hold a\nglass tube just over the tail of the insect, and very carefully put some\nof the coloured water into the tube, you will soon see the grub spirt\nout a stream of it to the distance of several inches: or if you will put\nthe insect in a saucer of coloured water, and then suddenly move it, and\nput it into one of clean water, you will see it spirt out the coloured\nstream plainer still.\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip, it must have a pump inside of it.\"\n\n\"It has, boys, something very like one. This stream of water is forced\nout to help the insect along; for though it has six feet, it uses\nthem very little except for catching food. It drives the water out so\nstrongly against the still water behind it, that it sends it forward,\nwith a dart, very rapidly. Here are two pictures; one shows the pump\nopen, and the other shows it shut.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Uncle Philip, is there any thing else curious about this insect?\"\n\n\"There is, boys, something well worth attention; did you ever see a\nmask?\"\n\n\"Do you mean, Uncle Philip, a face made of pasteboard, very frightful\ncommonly, which you can wear over your own face?\"\n\n\"That is a mask, boys; but so is any thing which is made to wear over\nthe face, and hide it. Now this little insect has a mask, not made\nlike a man's face, but which completely hides its mouth, and it is\nexceedingly curious.\"\n\n\"How is it made, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Why, boys, I am not sure that I can tell you, so that you will\nunderstand me; but I will try. Suppose your under-lip was horn, instead\nof being flesh; and suppose it hung straight down until it reached the\nbottom of your chin, so as to cover the whole of it, and that at the\nbottom there was a large three-sided plate which was hollowed out, and\nfastened by a joint or hinge to the bottom of your long lip, so that it\ncould turn up on the hinge and cover your face as high up as your nose,\nand hide your long lip and your mouth and part of your cheeks: suppose,\ntoo, that at the upper end of this long face-cover there were two other\npieces, so broad that they would cover all your nose and your temples,\nand could open sidewise like jaws, and show your nose and mouth, so that\nwhen they were opened they would appear like the blinders to a horse's\nbridle; and then suppose that these jaws, upon their inner edges, were\ncut into a great many sharp teeth, which fitted into each other, and you\nwill have some notion of this curious mask. Do you think you understand\nme?\"\n\n\"Why, pretty well, Uncle Philip, we think.\"\n\n\"Well, boys, here are some pictures, and with their help I hope what I\nhave been saying will be plain enough. In one picture the mask is shut;\nand in the other, one of the jaws, like a blinder to a bridle, is open.\nWhile the insect is at rest, it keeps the mask over its face; when it\nwishes to use it, it unfolds it, and catches its food, and holds it to\nits mouth. A gentleman once saw one of them holding and eating a large\ntadpole.\"\n\n[Illustration: Mask of the Dragon-fly, shut and open.]\n\n\"Uncle Philip, this mask is any thing but handsome.\"\n\n\"Very true; but you know we agreed when we were talking about the bats\nto look at animals even if they were not handsome. And there is your\npoor little ugly insect that you thought it right to kill, the spider;\ndid you know that the spider was a sailor, too?\"\n\n\"No, indeed, Uncle Philip! Pray tell us of it, will you?\"\n\n\"Yes; but wait a little, until we bring the boat's head right, for we\nare near the landing-place. So--now, boys, I am ready. There is a very\nlarge spider, about which not much is yet known, which actually builds\na _raft_, for the purpose of getting its food more easily. You may see\nit sailing about upon the water, on a ball of weeds about three inches\nacross, which is held together probably by small silk cords spun from\nitself; and the moment it sees an insect drowning, it leaves the raft,\ngets the insect, and then returns to eat it at leisure. If you frighten\nit, or it thinks danger is near, in an instant it is under the raft out\nof sight.\"\n\n\"Ah, this is a cunning spider, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Not half so cunning, boys, as the one we talked of which built a door\nto its house. But here we are at land. Jump ashore, my lads, and give my\nrespects to your fathers and mothers, when you get home.\"\n\n\"We will. Good day, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Good day, boys. I shall be glad to see you next Saturday.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION XIV.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Boys about an Insect with Tweezers,\n     and another with Pincers; and shows them how a Fly's Foot is made,\n     so as to stick to the Wall._\n\n\n\"How do you do, Uncle Philip, this morning?\"\n\n\"Very well, boys, I thank you. You are all well, I suppose, or I should\nnot see you here.\"\n\n\"Yes, we are all well, thank you, Uncle Philip. But one of us would be\nvery glad to have your help.\"\n\n\"Why, what is the matter?\"\n\n\"Charles Walker has run a splinter into his hand, and he wishes you to\nget it out for him.\"\n\n\"Oh, certainly, I will do that, if I can. Let me see: but stay--I must\nfirst put on my spectacles. Ah, now I see it; I can get it out, but I\nmust take my tweezers to it. There, it is out.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, those tweezers are very useful. If you had not had them,\nyou could not have taken hold of the splinter with your fingers; and\nwhat would you have done then?\"\n\n\"Tried to cut it out with the point of my penknife; but the tweezers are\nbetter for such work; and that reminds me, boys, to tell you that there\nare insects with tweezers.\"\n\n\"Why, what tool is it that you cannot find among them, Uncle Philip? It\nreally seems as if you found almost every kind among the lower animals.\"\n\n\"Oh, no--no, boys. There are a great many which I cannot find; but there\nare several, too, which, as you know, we have discovered.\"\n\n\"And, Uncle Philip, we suppose that men learned to make their tools and\nwork at many of their trades from these dumb creatures.\"\n\n\"Stay, boys--I never said that, because I think that it is not true. We\nknow that in some things men did not learn from the insects, though they\nmight have done so. There is paper, for instance. How could men learn\nto make it from the wasps, when it was a thins: in common use a long\ntime before Mr. Reaumur, of whom I told you, found out how the wasp made\nit? So, too, with a great many tools; men invented them, and afterward,\nperhaps, it was found out that insects had instruments like them:\nand at other times the insects did show men how to make some things.\nI will tell you of one which I think of just now. The city of London,\nin England, is on the river Thames. Some time since a plan was adopted\nto make what is called a tunnel under the river. This tunnel is a road\ndug out of the earth, under the bottom of the river, across it; and of\ncourse to keep the water from pressing in the earth as fast as it was\nhollowed out, it was propped up by walls built on each side, with a very\nstrong arch at the top. The work has now stopped; but about half of it\nwas made. In building this arched road under the water, the workmen used\nwhat they called a shield, to keep the water from coming through upon\nthem: and the gentleman who invented it, says that he first thought of\nit, from examining a little animal named Taret, which will bore holes in\nlarge pieces of timber under the water. This little animal has upon its\nhead a kind of shield, by which it keeps off the force of the water, and\nworks without being disturbed. So here was a case in which the insect\ntaught the man.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, that gentleman was a sensible man, in the first place to\nwatch the Taret and examine its head, and in the next place not to be\ntoo proud to learn from it. I expect he was a naturalist; was he, Uncle\nPhilip?\"\n\n\"I do not know, boys; but I should think his discovery of the shield\nwould make him an attentive observer, if he was not so before.\"\n\n\"Now, Uncle Philip, will you tell us of the tweezers?\"\n\n\"Very willingly, boys. This instrument or tool belongs to the moths\nwhich you see flying about at times. The tails are covered with a down,\nwhich grows in the form of a thick brush or tuft, and has a shining\nsilky gloss, different in colour from the short hair upon the rest\nof the body. The moth pulls off this hair to cover its eggs, and the\ntweezers are used for that purpose. Here is a picture of the moths.\"\n\n[Illustration: Females of the brown and gold-tailed Moths, showing the\nbunch of down on the tails.]\n\n\"Uncle Philip, you said that the moth pulled this hair off to cover its\neggs; are they easily frozen?\"\n\n\"Not very easily, boys; but you are mistaken in thinking that the moth\ncovers these eggs to keep off the cold; for as she lays them in July and\nAugust, and covers them at that time, it cannot be to keep off the cold.\"\n\n\"What is it for, then, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"To keep off the summer heat, boys.\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip! who ever heard of covering a thing up in hair or\nwool to keep off heat?\"\n\n\"I have heard of it, and seen it too, boys. It may seem strange, but\nit is true, that down and wool, and such things, are nearly as good to\nprotect an animal from very great outward heat as they are to keep off\nvery severe cold. When I was at Naples, in Italy, it was summer;--the\nclimate is a very warm one.--The country people were in the habit of\nbringing snow into the city from Mount Vesuvius, and every morning I\ncould see them coming in with their snow, which they sell to the rich\nto use for cooling things: and they kept it from melting with straw\nand wool. And in our own country, especially at the south, it is very\ncommon when a large lump of ice is brought to the house to be used\nthrough the day in midsummer, to wrap it up in a thick blanket until it\nis wanted.\n\n\"But I have not yet told you of the tweezers. The moth has no jaws, like\nbees and wasps, so that it cannot pull off these hairs as the bee would;\nbut, as I told you, it performs the work with its tweezers, which are\nplaced in its tail, and are like the points of a pair of sugar-tongs.\nThe insects, too, will use them very rapidly, and pull off a little of\nthe down, spread the egg upon it, and then cover it with more down, and\nsmooth it very neatly. Here are pictures of these tweezers.\"\n\n[Illustration: Tweezers of the brown and gold-tailed Moths, magnified.]\n\n\"This is a curious instrument for the insect to have, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"True, boys, but a very useful one. I will tell you, however, of another\nstrange thing concerning moths with their tweezers; I mean the way\nin which they will sometimes place their eggs. The kind of moth that\ndoes this work is not exactly known, but naturalists think that the\neggs are moth's eggs, because they are covered with the down, exactly\nlike those which are known to be moth's eggs. These eggs are twisted\nround a branch, like the thread of a screw, or like the curled end of\na corkscrew put over a small stick. Here is a picture of some of these\neggs.\"\n\n[Illustration: Spiral group of Eggs of an unknown Moth.]\n\n\"Ah, this is wonderful work indeed for a moth, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"As you seem to like this, boys, I will just mention to you that there\nis another moth, called the lackey-moth, which winds its eggs also\naround a branch. They are hard, however, and not covered with any down,\nand are put on in the strongest possible way. If men wish to make an\narch of stone, you know that the stones will be more narrow at the\nbottom than at the top, so that the bottom of the arch may make a small\ncircle, and the top a larger one: thus--\n\n[Illustration: A, Key-stone of an arch; B, Arch completed.]\n\nNow the moth goes on this principle. Its eggs are shaped like the bowl\nof a wine-glass, and the smaller end is put next to the branch. They are\nall glued together, too, with a kind of gum, which will not dissolve or\nmelt in water; so that the rain cannot injure them. Here is a picture of\nthese eggs.\n\n[Illustration: Eggs of the Lackey-moth, wound spirally round a twig of\nhawthorn; natural size, and magnified.]\n\n\"There is another insect, boys, which has something like tweezers;\nthough I think they resemble pincers most.\"\n\n\"What is it, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"The boys call it father long-legs, and I dare say you have often seen\nit. It is the crane-fly, and its pincers are used for putting its egg in\nthe hole it has made for it.\"\n\n\"Where does it put its eggs, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n[Illustration: Ovipositor and Eggs of the Crane-fly.]\n\n\"In the earth, boys; and to enable the insect to do this, the female has\nthe pincers I spoke of: they are made of something like horn, and are\nsharp at the point. With these she first bores a hole in the ground, and\nthen puts the egg in. The egg is like a grain of gunpowder, and she puts\nherself in a very curious posture to bore the hole. Here, boys, you may\nsee a picture of the pincers as they appear through a microscope, for\nthey are not near as large as the picture. And here is a drawing of one\nboring.\"\n\n[Illustration: Crane-fly ovipositing, and the larva beneath, in the\nearth, feeding upon grass roots.]\n\n\"What good pincers those are, Uncle Philip: but will you tell us one\nthing which we wish to know? Talking about the crane-fly has put me in\nmind of it: the other day we were sitting together in school, and the\nwall over our heads was covered with common flies; and when we came out,\nwe were talking about the way in which the fly stuck to the wall without\nfalling down; and as we could not tell what kept him up, we agreed to\nask you about it.\"\n\n\"I will tell you, boys, very willingly. I do not wonder that you were\nunable to tell how the fly stuck to the wall; for you never tried to\nfind out, and therefore could only guess at it.\"\n\n\"And that is not a good way to find out any thing, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"No, boys; though some persons much older than you are, did nothing but\nguess about this very thing, and guessed very far from the truth too.\nSome thought that the fly had a sponge in its foot, and squeezed a sort\nof glue out of it which made it stick fast; others said that the glass\nor wall was so rough that the fly's feet would catch hold of the little\npoints upon it; but both were wrong.\"\n\n\"How does it hold on, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Did you ever see what the boys call a sucker, made of a piece of soft\nsole leather? That will show you how the fly's foot sticks fast. This\nleather is cut round, and has a string through the centre; the boys wet\nit, and then put it upon a board or something smooth, and stamp on it,\nand try to raise it up from the board by the string; and it requires\nsome strength to pull it up: sometimes they put it on a small smooth\nstone, and then lift up the stone by it. The reason why the leather\nsticks so fast is because the air is pressing on it upon the outside,\nand there is very little or no air between it and the board, to press\nthe other way.\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip, is the air heavy?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, boys, when there is so much of it as there is above the earth,\nit presses down very heavily. Now the fly's foot is like the sucker;\nwhen he puts it down he has a contrivance to drive out the air from\nunder it, so that there will be little or none between it and the wall;\nand then the outer air presses upon it, and holds it fast.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, how does he get it up again?\"\n\n\"Why, boys, by another contrivance, he can let air in under his foot\nagain, and then he can easily move it; for we do not feel the weight of\nair when it presses upon both sides of us. The reason why you stand up\nstraight is because the air is pressing all around you; if it were on\none side of you only, it would press you down on the other side. Here is\na picture of the fly's foot, as it appears through the microscope. You\nwill see it has three suckers with the edges all like saws; these are\nto make it stick the closer. This picture, boys, is sixty-four hundred\ntimes as large as the fly's foot is.\"\n\n[Illustration: Fly's foot magnified.]\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, there is one thing yet hard to understand.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Why, the fly walks on the wall over our heads; now the air cannot press\ndown upon his feet there.\"\n\n\"Very true, boys: it cannot press _down_, but it can and does press\n_up_ against his feet; for the air presses up and down and sidewise all\nalike.\"\n\n\"Ah, now it is plain enough, and we are much obliged to you, Uncle\nPhilip, for telling us what we wished to know.\"\n\n\"You are quite welcome, my dear boys, to all that I can teach you: if it\nmakes you to be wiser and better men when you grow up, I shall be very\nthankful to God that I have been able to do you any good.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Good day, boys; I shall expect to see you all in church to-morrow.\"\n\n\"We shall be there, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION XV.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Boys how Hats are made; and then talks\n     to them about Animals that can make Felt like the Hatter._\n\n\n\"Boys, do you remember my telling you of a remarkable bird, called the\ntailor-bird, which sews very neatly?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, Uncle Philip; it is not easy to forget such an excellent little\nworkman; but why do you ask--have you any thing more to tell us about\nthat bird?\"\n\n\"No, boys, not any thing of that bird; but I was thinking last night\nof the work done by several other kinds of birds, some of them quite\nas good workmen as our little tailor; and I thought that, perhaps, you\nmight like to hear of them.\"\n\n\"We would, Uncle Philip, be very happy to hear of them, if you will have\nthe kindness to tell us about them. But what kind of work is it they do?\"\n\n\"Various kinds, boys. There are some which make what is called _felt_,\njust as the hat-maker does; and some are weavers, others basket-makers;\nsome build platforms to live on; and I assure you some birds' nests are\nas curious as any of the things of which I have yet told you.\"\n\n\"Pray let us hear of them, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Very well, you shall. I will begin with birds that make felt like the\nhatter. Do you know how a hat is made?\"\n\n\"Not exactly, Uncle Philip; but we know what it is made of.\"\n\n\"What is it, boys?\"\n\n\"Of sheep's wool, and the hair of other animals: is it not?\"\n\n\"Yes, commonly of these things; and to understand what I am going to\ntell you, I think it will be necessary first to say something about the\nhatter's trade. The business of the man who makes a hat is to mix up\nwool or hair in such a way that it will stick together and make felt;\nor something like a piece of thick, strong cloth. To do this, he does\nnot weave the hairs together, for they are of different kinds, and of\ndifferent lengths, and it would be endless work to weave every one in;\nbesides the cloth or felt would not be thick enough when it was done.\"\n\n\"How do they stick together then, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Why, boys, their sticking together is owing to something in the hairs\nthemselves. I will show you. Pull a hair out of your head; now hold it\njust between the ends of your two fore-fingers, and rub the fingers\ngently against each other.\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip! see, the hair is moving towards my body.\"\n\n\"Very true; and if you will turn it with the other end towards you, and\nrub your fingers as before, you will see it move from your body.\"\n\n\"This is very strange, Uncle Philip: the hair is smooth; how can my\nfingers make it move so?\"\n\n\"No, that is a mistake, boys, the hair is not smooth. If some kinds of\ncoarse hair are seen through the microscope, each one will seem to be,\nnot one hair, but ten or twelve smaller ones, which are joined at the\nroot, and form a hollow tube, like a straw; and sometimes it will have\njoints just like some kinds of grass or straw. In some sorts of finer\nhair you cannot see this even with the microscope; but you can feel it,\nas you did just now when you moved your fingers. These joints overlap\none another, just as if you should take several pieces of straw and\nstick them into each other. I will show you some pictures of hairs as\nseen through the microscope, and then these joints will be plain enough.\"\n\n[Illustration: Hairs of (_a_) the Bat, (_b_) the Mole, and (_c_) the\nMouse.]\n\n\"These are strange-looking hairs, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Yes, they are curious; but now you may see why, when hairs are worked\ntogether, they may be made to stick to each other. These rough parts\ncatch into each other, and hook themselves; and the more you press them\nor move them, the more closely you work them into one solid mass, which\nyou cannot easily pull to pieces. Besides, you must remember that the\nhairs will work only one way, as you found out just now when your finger\nends caught upon the little joints and moved them along. Now, suppose\nthat a very large heap of hairs, or wool, or fur, after it is made\nready, should be put upon a table, and covered with a linen cloth, and\npressed down in different directions. Each hair would begin to move in\nthe direction of its root, just as it did between your fingers, and so\nall would be joined together at last into one solid piece.\"\n\n\"We understand you, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Then you understand, boys, the way in which a hat is made. These hairs\nare all worked together by the hands of the hat-maker, and to make them\nwork more easily (for curled hair, such as wool, does not move easily)\nthe hatter uses hot water, and dips his hat in it while he is working\nit. After it is done, it is died, and then put upon a wooden block to\ngive it shape, and is ironed smooth.\"\n\n\"And this is the way, then, Uncle Philip, to make hats: it is curious,\nis it not?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys; but plain enough when you come to examine into it. And the\nbest stuff for the hatters is such hair as has most joints ready to\ncatch into each other: the rabbit's hair is very good, and for that\nreason.\"\n\n\"And is it possible, Uncle Philip, that any bird can do such work as\nthis?\"\n\n\"Not only possible, boys, but true. There are several birds very expert\nat making felt, and their nest appears like a piece of hatter's felt, or\ndouble-milled woollen cloth. I do not mean to say that it is as close\nand solid as the hat or cloth; it would feel in your fingers looser than\neither, still it is quite close; and when you examine it, you will find\nit put together in the same way; it is all carded into one mass, and not\nwoven together thread by thread, or hair by hair.\"\n\n\"And are there many birds able to do such work, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"I told you, boys, that there were several. The chief article which\nthey use is wool, but with this many other things will be found\nmixed--sometimes, upon the outside, fine moss--sometimes pieces of a\nspider's web rolled up into a little bundle--sometimes, when cotton can\nbe had, they will use small bunches of cotton-wool; but sheep's wool\nthey must have, and by means of that, they contrive to make, with the\nother things I have mentioned, a felt wonderfully smooth.\"\n\n\"Is it smooth on the outside, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Sometimes quite so; but always as smooth on the inside, when it is\nfirst made, as if it had been felted together by the hat-maker. There\nis another thing curious enough in some of these nests. The hatter, you\nknow, binds the rim of his hat to make it stronger; and some of these\nfelt-making birds will make their nests stronger by a binding all around\nthem of dry grass stems, and sometimes of slender roots, and they take\ncare to cover these grass stems, or roots, with their felt-work of moss\nand wool. But there is something else not less strange, I think, than\nthe binding. It is this: they will build their nests in the fork of a\nshrub or tree; and to keep them from falling, they will work bands of\nthis felt round all the branches which touch the nest, both below and at\nthe sides. And those parts of the nest which touch the large branches\nare always thinner than the other parts, which have no support; in those\nparts the nest is nothing but a thin wall of felt, fixed around to\nfit the shape of the branch, and that is enough to make that part of\nthe nest warm and soft. Here is a picture of one of these felt-nests,\nfastened in the way of which I have been telling you.\"\n\n[Illustration: Chaffinch's Nest on an Elder-tree.]\n\n\"This, boys, is the nest of the chaffinch. The goldfinch makes a nest\nof the same kind, only rather neater and smoother than that of the\nchaffinch; for it takes pains to show nothing but the wool, and covers\nup all the other materials which it uses.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, do these birds all use the same things to make their\nnests?\"\n\n\"All use wool, boys; but the truth is, that birds will commonly take\nfor their nests that article which they can get most easily, if it will\nsuit. A gentleman, named Bolton, tried this with some goldfinches. He\nsaw a pair of these birds beginning to build in his garden; they had\nlaid the foundation of their nest with moss, and grass, and such things,\nas they commonly use: he scattered some wool about in different parts of\nthe garden; the birds took the wool: afterward he scattered cotton; they\ntook the cotton: on the next day he gave them some very fine down; they\ntook that, and finished the nest with it, and a very handsome nest it\nwas.\"\n\n\"How long were they in making it, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Three days. The canary-bird, boys, which you sometimes see in cages,\nwhen free, builds a nest of the same kind. But the most curious\nfelt-makers among the birds, are in Africa. There is the Cape-tit,\na bird in the southern part of Africa, which builds a very strange\nnest: it is shaped like a bottle of India-rubber, as thick as a coarse\nworsted stocking, and made of cotton, and down, and other things felted\ntogether. On one side of the nest there is something like a pocket, and\nhere is a picture of it.\"\n\n[Illustration: Nest of the Cape-tit, from Sonnerat.]\n\n\"Uncle Philip, what is that pocket for?\"\n\n\"Why, boys, some have supposed that it was for the male bird to sit on\nand keep watch, while the female was inside of the nest sitting on the\neggs; but I think this is a mistake. And some have said, that when the\nfemale leaves the nest, and the male wishes to go too, he sits in this\npocket, and beats against the side of the nest with his wing until he\nhas made the edges of the top meet, and thus shuts up the mouth of the\nnest, and keeps off insects and other animals that would eat the young\nones; but I do not believe this story.\"\n\n\"Then what do you think the pocket is for. Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"I think, boys, that it is nothing but a perch, or place for the bird\nto sit on before going into the nest. If the bird had no such place for\nstopping, it might be troubled to get into its nest. The mouth is small,\nand the bird could not enter it with its wings spread; and if it should\nalight on the edge of the nest constantly, it would injure it, for it is\nbut slightly made. And I will tell you another reason why I think this\nis the use of the pocket. There is another bird in South Africa, called\nthe pinc-pinc, which is the same species of bird as the Cape-tit; and\nthis bird we know uses its little nest built upon the side of the other\nmerely as a resting-place before going into the nest.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, does the pinc-pinc build its nest like a bottle, as the\nCape-tit does?\"\n\n\"No, boys, not so smooth, but felted in the same way. The nest is\nmade mostly of the down of plants, and is either snowy white or\nbrownish, according to the colour of the down. On the outside it is a\nclumsy-looking thing, but fastened, like the nest of the chaffinch,\nvery firmly to the branches near it, so that you cannot take it away\nwithout breaking it to pieces. But rough as the outside is, you would be\nastonished, if you were to look at the inside, and see how a bird, and a\nsmall one too, with nothing but its wings, and tail, and feet, and bill\nfor tools, could ever have worked the down of plants together, so as to\nmake of it a piece of fine cloth. It has a narrow neck, something like\na chimney, at the top of it. This is the entrance; and at the lower end\nof it there is a lump, which appears something like a small nest stuck\non to the larger one; sometimes there will be three or four of these\nsmall-looking nests, and sometimes when there is a branch near the mouth\nof the nest which makes a good resting-place, there will be none. Here\nis a picture, boys, of the outside of one of these nests.\n\n[Illustration: Nest of the Pinc-pinc.]\n\nThese birds are easily watched; and a French gentleman, who has written\nthe best account of the birds of Africa,[11] says that he has found\nat least a hundred of these nests, and watched the birds for a whole\nmorning together, and never saw one sitting on the small nest as a\nwatch-bird; but has seen both the male and female arrive at the nest\ntogether, perch upon the nearest branch, hop from this upon the edge of\nthe little nest, and then putting their heads into the hole, dart into\nthe large nest. And now, boys, what do you think about the use of these\nlittle pockets?\"\n\n\"Oh, Uncle Philip, we think that what you tell us is always right,\nbecause you know a great deal more than we do.\"\n\n\"But, boys, you do not understand me. I may be mistaken, though I do\nknow more than you. I have been telling you my reasons for thinking\nthese little pockets are nothing but perches. Do you think the reasons\nare good ones?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, Uncle Philip, we do. The French gentleman who watched the\nbirds so much would have seen some of them using the pockets for a place\nto keep watch in, if they were made for that.\"\n\n\"Right, boys. What I wish to teach you is to think for yourselves.\nWhenever any one gives you a reason for a thing, just ask yourselves,\n'Is this a good reason?'\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, how did it happen that the other people who saw\nthese birds should have said that these pockets were for the male bird\nto sit in and watch?\"\n\n\"I suppose, boys, that they really thought so; but then they had not\nnoticed the birds enough to find out the truth. It requires a great\ndeal of time and patience to find out the truth about animals: and this\nis the reason why so many mistakes have been printed about them. It is\na pity that such mistakes have been made; for really there is enough\nthat is very curious about them, without men's making stories to appear\nstrange. But I think that there will be fewer mistakes made in future.\"\n\n\"Why so, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Because, boys, men are taking more pains to see for themselves. There\nare more naturalists now than there were formerly; and I hope there\nwill be more still, especially in our own large and beautiful country,\nwhere there have not yet been many. I hope that natural history will be\nstudied in all our schools before a great while. But let us go back to\nour African birds.\n\n\"There is another kind which Mr. Vaillant speaks of, and I will tell you\nof that. He calls it the capocier, and he had a very fine opportunity to\nwatch two of them. It is a bird easily made gentle, and he had managed\nby feeding two of them to make them so tame that they would come into\nhis tent and hop about several times in a day, though he never had them\nin a cage. When it became time for them to build a nest, they staid away\nfor some time, and would come to the tent once only in four or five\ndays. At last they began to come regularly, as before, and Mr. Vaillant\nsoon found out what they came for. They had seen upon his table cotton\nand moss and flax, which he used to stuff the skins of birds, and which\nwere always lying there; and the capociers had come for these things,\nto build their nest of them. They would take up large bunches of them\nin their bills and fly away. Mr. Vaillant followed and watched them to\nsee the nest built, and found them at work in the corner of a garden, by\nthe side of a spring, in a large plant which grew under the shade of a\ntree. They were building in the fork of the branches, and had laid the\nfoundation, which was about four inches high and six inches across. This\npart was made of moss and flax, mixed with grass and tufts of cotton.\nThe next day this gentleman never left the side of the nest: the female\nwas at work building, and the male brought the materials. In the morning\nthe male bird made twenty-nine journeys to Mr. Vaillant's table for flax\nand cotton and moss; and in the afternoon he made seventeen. He would\nhelp his mate to trample down and press the cotton with his body, so\nas to make it into felt. Whenever he came with a load, he would put it\neither upon the edge of the nest or upon some branch within reach of the\nfemale.\n\n\"After he began to help the female at her work, he would often break\noff, and begin to play; and sometimes, as if in mischief, he would pull\ndown a little of her work. She would get angry, and peck him with her\nbill: but he still continued to vex her, until at last, to save her work\nfrom being pulled down, she would stop working, and fly off from bush\nto bush, to tease him. They would then make up the quarrel, and she\nset about her work, while he would sing most delightfully for several\nminutes. After his song was finished, he would go to work again, until\nhe got into a new fit of mischief and frolic, and then he would torment\nher as before.\n\n\"On the third day the birds began to build the walls, after having\nrepeatedly pressed the bottom, and turned themselves round upon it in\nall directions, to make the nest solid. They first made a plain border\nall around; this they trimmed, and on it they piled up tufts of cotton,\nwhich they felted in by beating and pressing with their breasts and\nwings; and if any part stuck out, they worked it in with their bills,\nso as to make all perfectly smooth and firm. And they worked their nest\nround the branches near it, just as the chaffinch does.\n\n\"In seven days they finished it. It was as white as snow, and on the\noutside it was nine inches high, and not smooth or regular in its shape;\nbut in the inside it was shaped exactly like a hen's egg, with the small\nend up: the hollow was five inches high, and between four and five\ninches across; and it was so neatly felted together that it might have\nbeen taken for a piece of fine cloth a little worn; and so close that\nyou could not take away any part without tearing the nest in pieces.\nHere is a picture of the nest, boys, and it is wonderful work for a\nsmall bird.\"\n\n[Illustration: Nest of the Capocier, from Vaillant's figure.]\n\n\"Oh, Uncle Philip! we like the capociers very much. When they were tired\nof working, they were ready to play; and when they had played enough,\nthey went back to work. Do not you think there was good sense in that?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, I do: it will not do, either to work all the time or to play\nall the time. All that we have to do is to take care that we do not\nspend more time than we should at either. But there is a sweet little\nbird, boys, quite common in our own country, which makes felt: would you\nlike to hear of it?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, Uncle Philip. What bird is it?\"\n\n[Illustration: Nest of the Humming-bird.]\n\n\"It is the humming-bird. Here is a drawing of its nest. It is about an\ninch deep, and an inch across; and from a little distance, appears more\nlike a small knot upon the branch than like a bird's nest. The outside\nof the nest from which this picture is made, was covered with a kind of\nbluish-gray lichen, that grows in scales upon old trees and fences: this\nseemed to be glued on by the bird in some way or other. The inside was\nthe felt, and was made of the fine down from seeds that float about in\nthe air, mixed with the down from mullein-weed and stalks of fine grass.\nThis, boys, is the smallest nest made by a bird, I believe; and some\ninsects make larger houses for themselves than this bird does.\n\n\"But I have not time at present to talk with you any longer, as I have\nletters to write; and therefore I must bid you good morning.\"\n\n\"Farewell, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[11] M. Vaillant.\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION XVI.\n\n     _Uncle Philip tells the Boys about Birds that are Weavers; and\n     about the Politician-bird; and a Story about some Philosophers; and\n     what may be learned from these Conversations._\n\n\n\"Well, boys, were you pleased enough with our last conversation to wish\nto hear more about birds' nests?\"\n\n\"Yes, if you please, Uncle Philip. You said something about birds that\nwere weavers; we should like to hear something of them.\"\n\n\"Very well, then; I will talk about the weavers this morning. And the\nfirst thing I have to say is that this is no uncommon trade among birds.\nTake the nest of any of the common small birds that use hair for a\nlining, and you will be apt to find some part of it woven.\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Philip, you do not mean that birds weave as smoothly and\nregularly as people do!\"\n\n\"Not quite, boys; but still it is very fair weaving, and done as our\nweaving is, by working a hair or thread in and out between other hairs\nand threads, or roots, or bits of stick and grass. The best way to see\nit, is to remove the outside work of hay or roots very carefully, or to\ntake away the felt-work of wool or moss, and you may see a round piece\nof hair-cloth, sometimes finer, and sometimes coarser, according to the\nbird that made it, and the things of which it is made. In the common\nsparrow's nest the hair-cloth is very thin, so that you can see through\nit easily; but still every hair is woven in singly, and always bent,\nso as to lie smooth in the bottom of the nest. And there are no ends\nof hairs left sticking out; they are always worked into the moss which\nmakes the outside of the nest.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, how do the birds make the hairs lie smooth in their\nplaces?\"\n\n\"About that, boys, there is some uncertainty. Some persons think that\nthe birds have a kind of glue in their mouths by which they make them\nstick; and others suppose that they wet the hairs, so as to make them\nbend. But there are much better weavers than the common sparrow. The\nred-breast and the yellow-hammer are both better workmen.\"\n\n\"Where do they get hairs. Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"They find bunches of them sticking in the cracks of a fence or post\nwhere a horse or cow has been rubbing; and some of these little\ncreatures, when they find such a bunch, will pull it to pieces, and work\nit in, hair by hair.\"\n\n\"Are there many of these weaver-birds. Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, a great many: our country is quite full of them. There is\nthe mountain ant-catcher,[12] which will weave a nest of dry grass, and\nwind the blades round the branches of a tree; and the king-bird,[13]\nwhich first makes a basket frame-work of slender sticks, and afterward\nweaves in wool and tow, and lines it with hairs and dry grass. There is\nanother, too, the white-eyed fly-catcher, which some have called the\npolitician. This bird builds its nest and hangs it up by the upper edge\nof the two sides on a vine. The outside is made of pieces of rotten\nwood, threads of dry stalks or weeds, pieces of paper, commonly old\nnewspapers; and all these are woven together with caterpillar's silk,\nand lined with fine dry grass and hair.\"\n\n\"Uncle Philip, why do they call it the politician? What is a politician?\"\n\n\"What is commonly called a politician, boys, is a person who is always\nreading in newspapers about the government of the country, and talking\na great deal about the President and Congress, and the laws that are\nmade, and all such things: but the real politician is one who studies\nthe different kinds of government which have been in the world, and\nendeavours to find out which is good and which is bad, and why they are\ngood or bad. He reads, too, a great deal of history, to learn how other\nnations have done, what kind of laws they made, and why they made them,\nhow they became great nations, or how they became very poor; and he\n_thinks_, too, a great deal, that he may find out what will be best for\nhis own nation. It requires hard study and thought, boys, to make a good\npolitician.\"\n\n\"Then, Uncle Philip, a man cannot learn how to be one out of the\nnewspapers.\"\n\n\"No, boys; not out of newspapers alone: but still he will read them,\nand very often learn from them things very useful to him in his\nbusiness. Newspapers are valuable things, and I think it is always best\nfor a country to have a great many of them spread about in it. But they\nwill not, of themselves, make a man a politician; and if you should ask\nthe persons who print them, whether they expect them to teach men all\nabout governments, they will tell you, No: but they will teach people\nwhat is doing in all the governments in the world. No good government,\nboys, will ever be afraid to let the people have newspapers. They are\nalways fewest where the government is hardest upon the people. But let\nus go back to the birds. Can you tell me now why some people call the\nfly-catcher a politician?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; because he has so many bits of old newspapers about his nest.\"\n\n\"That is the reason, boys. There is another kind of fly-catcher, called\nthe hooded fly-catcher, and it weaves its nest of flax and strings\npulled from the stalks of hemp: but the best weaver in this country\nis the Baltimore starling. This bird chooses the ends of high bending\nbranches for his nest, and he begins in a forked twig, by fastening\nstrong strings of hemp or flax around both branches of the fork, just\nas far apart as he means the width of his nest to be: he then with\nthe same kind of strings, mixed in with pieces of loose tow, weaves\na strong, firm kind of cloth, which is like the hatter's felt in\nappearance, only that you can see that the nest is woven, not felted.\nIn this way he makes a pouch, or purse, six or seven inches deep, and\nlines it on the inside with several soft things, which he weaves into\nthe outside netting, and finishes the whole with horse-hair. Mr. Wilson\ndescribes one of these nests which he had. He says that it was round\nlike a cylinder. Do you know what a cylinder is?\"\n\n\"No, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"A smooth round pillar to hold up a porch is a cylinder; my walking-cane\nis a cylinder; so is the straight body of a tree. When these are of the\nsame size all through their whole length, they are perfect cylinders;\nand any thing in that shape is a cylinder.\"\n\n\"We understand you, Uncle Philip; a gun-barrel is a cylinder, and there\nis a cylinder in your garden.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"The heavy stone roller that you let us pull over the walks.\"\n\n[Illustration: Baltimore Starling, and Nest.]\n\n\"Right. Well, this nest was like a cylinder, about five inches across,\nand seven inches long. At the top the bird had worked a level cover, so\nas to leave a hole only two inches and a half across; at the bottom it\nwas round. It was made of flax, tow, hemp, hair, and wool, and was woven\ninto a complete cloth; it was also tightly sewed through and through\nwith long horse-hairs, some of which when drawn out measured two feet.\nHere is a picture of this nest. In the bottom it had bunches of cows'\nhair, and these were also sewed down with horse-hairs. This bird, boys,\nis a thief.\"\n\n\"A thief, Uncle Philip! What does it steal?\"\n\n\"When I say it is a thief, boys, I mean that it takes what does not\nbelong to it: but it is not a thief as man is. When a man takes\nsomething which belongs to another person, he _knows_ that it is not\nhis; and therefore he steals: but the poor bird does not know, and that\nmakes a difference. You asked me what it steals: I will tell you. At\nthe time for building its nest, it will take whatever suits for that\npurpose; and therefore the country women are obliged to watch their\nthread that they have put out to bleach: the farmer, too, who has cut\noff young grafts from his fruit-trees and tied them up in bundles, must\nbe careful, or the bird will pull at the string till he gets it off; and\nsometimes, when the bunch is not too large, he will fly off with the\nwhole. In autumn, when the leaves have fallen, you may sometimes see\nskeins of silk and hanks of thread hanging about the starling's nest,\nbut so woven up and entangled in it that they are good for nothing. Now,\nboys, before this country was settled by people from Europe, where do\nyou suppose the starling got silk and thread for his nest?\"\n\n\"Why, Uncle Philip, are you sure he got them at all?\"\n\n\"A very sensible question, boys. When you are asked _why_ a thing is so,\nit is always well, first to be satisfied that it is so, before you begin\nto look for a reason. I have read a story about this very thing: would\nyou like to hear it?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\"Well, then, I have read that there were once several philosophers\n(I told you what a philosopher is, you know), who were in the habit\nof meeting together to put questions to each other, and to make new\ndiscoveries. At one of these meetings, one of them asked the others,\n'_Why_ a fish weighed more _in_ the water than he did _out_ of it?'\nSeveral of them gave very wise reasons, as they thought; and all the\nreasons were different: so they could not agree. There was among them,\nhowever, a very sensible old gentleman, who listened to them all, but\nsaid nothing. When he went home, he got a fish and weighed it, out of\nthe water, and wrote down its weight; he then took a bucket of water,\nand weighed that; and when he dropped the fish in the bucket, he found\nthat it increased the weight of the whole, precisely as many pounds as\nthe fish had weighed out of the water; so he found out that there was\nno reason why a fish weighed more in the water than he did out of it,\nbecause it was not true: his weight was the same either in or out of it.\"\n\n\"Ah, Uncle Philip, that is a pleasant story: he was a sensible old\ngentleman.\"\n\n\"Yes, boys, he was; and it was sensible in you to ask first whether the\nstarling _did use_ silk and thread before Europeans came here; and after\nthat is answered, it is time enough to ask where he got such things. Now\nthe truth is, that he _did not_ use them until after Europeans brought\nthem here; because there were no such things in this country: for the\nIndians who lived here could not make thread. I think; and I am sure\nthey could not spin silk: but I will tell you, boys, what it shows us;\nand it is that I wish you to notice.\"\n\n\"What is it, Uncle Philip?\"\n\n\"It is the wisdom of this bird in taking advantage of circumstances. No\ndoubt he built very good nests long before silk and thread were in the\ncountry; but he had sense enough to know that they were exactly what\nsuited him, and he used them as soon as he could get them.\"\n\n\"Then, Uncle Philip, you think that the bird has reason?\"\n\n\"No, boys, I do not: but you have reason, and I have something to say\nto you about it. It is this: as God has given you reason, and so made\nyou better than the poor dumb animals, he expects more from you. That is\nfair, is it not?\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Philip; very fair.\"\n\n\"Then what I wish you to remember is this: that you must use your reason\nin such way as to glorify God. He gave it to you to learn his will and\nhis commandments, and to live accordingly. So now you see the things\nwhich our conversations about the animals can teach us. In the first\nplace, we see the goodness of God; in the second place, we see the\npower of God; in the third place, we see the wisdom of God: and we see\nin ourselves that God has done more for us than he has done for them,\nand therefore we ought to love and serve him: we ought to believe what\nhe says in his Word; we ought to pray to him for his blessed help; we\nought, _first of all_, to seek the salvation of our souls, through our\nLord Jesus Christ.\n\n\"Now, my dear children, to-morrow I must leave home for a few weeks; but\nwhen I come back we will talk together again: and as I am going to see\nmy nephews, I will get a book which they printed about insects; it is\ncalled the History of Insects,[14]--and I will bring it to you; and some\nof the largest boys among you may read it aloud, and I will explain to\nyou what you cannot understand. If you are pleased with what I have been\ntelling you, that book will tell you a great deal more.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you, Uncle Philip. We shall like it very much.\"\n\n\"Farewell, boys.\"\n\n\"Good-by, dear Uncle Philip.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[12] Myiothera obsoleta of Bonaparte.\n\n[13] Tyrannus intrepidus.\n\n[14] Family Library, No. VIII.--_Publishers._\n\n\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\n  _Now republishing, on good paper and large type, in 18mo. volumes_,\n\n\n  SOCIAL EVILS\n  AND\n  THEIR REMEDY.\n\n  A SERIES OF NARRATIVES TO BE PUBLISHED QUARTERLY.\n\n  BY THE\n  REV. CHARLES B. TAYLER, M.A.\n\n  No. I.\n\n  THE MECHANIC.\n\n  IS NOW REPUBLISHED, AND FOR SALE BY THE BOOKSELLERS.\n\n  \"Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid,\n  which is Jesus Christ.\"\n\nAUTHOR'S ADDRESS\n\nNo doubt can be felt as to the fact, that there are at present many\ncrying evils in all ranks of society--perhaps there never was a time\nwhen more remedies were proposed. It is, however, a melancholy truth,\nthat the only remedy is too generally over-looked, or despised.\nRemedies, selfish in principle, and selfish in their proposed end, are\nheld forth and confided in by those who profess to be Christians, and,\nas such, dependent on the Great Head of the church. Man is taught how\nto live in time, and to be wise for time; but it has become unusual\nto refer to that fine old scriptural prayer, \"So teach us to number\nour days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.\" Indeed, the\nwisdom desired by too many is that which is so forcibly described by\nan apostle's pen, as \"earthly, sensual, devilish;\" not that wisdom\nthe attributes of which form the graces of man's new and regenerate\ncharacter, which is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to\nbe entreated; \"full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and\nwithout hypocrisy.\"\n\nIt is intended, in the series of narratives now advertised, to set\nforth, faithfully and simply, the one great principle on which\nChristians profess to act. This principle should never be lost sight\nof, in any publication addressed by a Christian author to Christian\nreaders. \"Other foundation can no man lay, than that is laid,\" laid by\nInfinite Wisdom himself--\"which is Christ Jesus.\" My illustrations will\nextend to every class of society; from the highest to the lowest. When\nit is found necessary to introduce the subject of political economy, I\nshall endeavour to give what seem to me the right views of the subject;\nand I shall take care to show, that when political economy cannot be\nidentified with Christian economy, it ought to occupy a subordinate\nplace. If it enters society as the servant of Christian principle, it\nmay be very useful as a servant; but, if it is to teach a man to walk in\nthe counsel of the ungodly, to speak of its usefulness in a Christian\ncommunity is absurd.\n\nFalse principles, however taking they may be, for a while, with the\nignorant, or with those who are not deep thinkers, can never stand for\nany length of time; and as for the ungodly, we know _Who_ has told us\nthey are \"like the chaff which the wind driveth away.\" I have undertaken\nthis work in a spirit of prayer to God for His assistance, and His\nblessing. Many of my readers. I am sure, will unite their prayers to\nmine, that it may be continued in the same spirit. Some few may object\nto this address from a minister of Christ to a Christian community,\nand say that it is according to the puritanical cant of the day. I\nanswer, that such cant (if mere cant) is quite as offensive to me as to\nthemselves; almost as offensive as the cant of ungodliness; but I cannot\nforget those words of solemn warning, from One who, alas, is still the\ndespised and rejected of many men: \"Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and\nof my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him shall the\nSon of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with\nthe holy angels.\"\n\nThe second number of \"Social Evils,\" entitled \"_The Lady and the Lady's\nMaid_,\" will be republished about the 1st of February, 1834.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHEOLOGICAL LIBRARY.\n\nNo. I. The Life of Wiclif. By Charles Webb Le Bas, A.M.\n\nII. The Consistency of the whole Scheme of Revelation with Itself and\nwith Human Reason. By Philip Nicholas Shuttleworth, D.D.\n\nIII., IV. Luther and the Lutheran Reformation. By John Scott, A.M.\n\nV., VI. The Life of Archbishop Cranmer. By Charles Webb Le Bas, A.M.\n\nVII., VIII. History of the Reformed Religion in France. By Rev. Edward\nSmedley, M.A. _In Press._\n\n\n\n\n  +----------------------------------------------------------------- +\n  | Transcriber's Note:                                              |\n  |                                                                  |\n  | * Obvious punctuation and spelling errors repaired.              |\n  |                                                                  |\n  | * Original spelling and its variations were not standardized.    |\n  |                                                                  |\n  | * Original use of quotation marks was left unchanged.            |\n  |                                                                  |\n  | * The word \"scattered is missing between pages 135 and 136.      |\n  |                                                                  |\n  | * \"... have got permission from your friends....\"  This should   |\n  |   be \"permission from parents,\" as the context suggests.         |\n  |                                                                  |\n  | * Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, _like |\n  |   this_. Words in bold characters are surrounded by equal signs, |\n  |   =like this=.                                                   |\n  |                                                                  |\n  | * Footnotes were moved to the end of the paragraphs to which     |\n  |   they applied and numbered in one continuous sequence.          |\n  +------------------------------------------------------------------+","title":"Natural History: Or, Uncle Philip's Conversations with the Children about Tools and Trades among Inferior Animals","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":40115}