Note 8 — Chapter XXIII · Excursion into unknown countries.
Reading edition
Father.—You may be right. Writers on natural history have considered the industry and frugality of these insects, as a subject not unworthy of their close consideration8; but if the common ant of our own country excited so much of your admiration, in what words will you express your astonishment at the almost incredible labours which are performed by the ants of foreign countries! Of these there is a kind which build nests of four, six, and eight feet in height, and large in proportion: the external walls of these structures are formed so thick and solid, that neither sun nor rain can penetrate them. These houses contain within, little streets, arched roofs, piazzas, colonnades, and particular apartments for the offices of housewifery: and the whole of this complicated mass is put together with so much solidity of workmanship, that if emptied and cleaned, it might serve for an oven. The ant is for the most part an animal of pilfering propensities, on the profits of which it principally lives; it is also remarkable for constancy in its designs, and remaining ever in one place: a species of them exists, however, in America, which is known by the name of the cephalate or visiting ant; they make their appearance in numerous troops every two or three years, and disperse themselves abundantly in every house: as soon as this visitation is observed, it is customary to open all the apartments, and every receptacle for stores; they enter every where, and in a short time it is found that they have exterminated as effectually the rats, mice, bugs, kakerles (a sort of insect that gives great annoyance in hot countries);—in a word, all the different animals offensive or injurious to man, as if sent on a special mission to remedy the evils these occasion. They do no injury to man, unless they find in him an enemy, who pursues and disturbs their quiet; in which case they attack his shoes so violently, that they are destroyed with incredible rapidity. On the other hand, they cause terrible devastations in plantations of trees, of which they will entirely strip the leaves in a single night: some of the ants crawl up and separate them from the tree, and then throw them down to their fellow-labourers, who are in waiting to receive and carry the leaves to the ant house. This curious species does not build its house above ground, but they dig holes, sometimes not less than eight feet in depth, and plaster the walls according to the rules of the art of masonry9. Some travellers assert that one of the islands of the South Sea is infested by them to such a degree, that human beings cannot venture to disembark in it. The place is therefore, as it were, yielded to them, and is known to mariners by the name of Ant-island.