in which the thermometer runs up at times to figures that indicate a heat which would make life unbearable in our moister climeall these surprise us only because we expected to find something very different.

The skies are bluer, and the sun is brighter far. The vegetation is obviously unlike our own; and, on the whole, it must be confessed, is very inferior. For English oak, elm, beech and chestnut, it must be confessed the biggest gum-tree is a poor substitute. Nor is the grass so green, tender and crisp as in our English lawns and meadows. Still, anybody coming to these lands in the early spring would at every point be impressed with the wonderful likeness of most things in the new land to those of the old. He would certainly fail at first to find that mysterious and verse reversal of all his European experiences, on which writers formerly insisted. It used to be supposed that everything in Australia is the very reverse of what prevails at home. And it is quite true that the south is the cold quarter, and the warm winds come from the north. The trees shed their bark, and retain their leaves; the swans are black; the cherries grow with their stones on the outside; the animals, for the most part, carry their young in a pouch; and there

per

is one curious creature which combines in itself the characteristics of bird, beast, fish and reptile. But for all this, no sense of strangeness seizes the ordinary traveller. It is quite possible for a man to travel for months amongst the cities and towns of Australia, and never catch sight of a kangaroo. He must go

far into the bush to see those wild cherries with their stones outside. He will probably see the black swans in the Botanical Gardens, and nowhere else, unless his sporting instincts carry him away from the

beaten tracks; and many of the oldest settlers have never seen an ornithorhynchus, except perhaps a stuffed specimen. But he will find at every turn honest English faces to give him smile for smile; and he will find everywhere strong British hands subduing the soil and conquering fortune; and he will receive everywhere, if he be in any way worthy of it, a welcome and a courtesy from strangers that could scarcely be surpassed if they were attached personal friends. Amongst the freest and most prosperous communities on the face of the earth, the Australian people are also amongst the kindliest and most hospitable.

Many of these statements must seem very trite to those who are acquainted with Colonial affairs. But I am greatly mistaken if they have not at least the merit of novelty to many readers. For the ignorance of the stay-at-home English in reference to these great dependencies of the Empire is very great; indeed, sometimes scarcely credible. Of this the Colonists complain freely, not to say bitterly. And when one hears the stories they tell in support of their complaints, one does not wonder at their sensitiveness. An Australian gentleman visits England with his daughters, and is complimented by his friends upon the lightness of their complexion ! A relative at home writes to his correspondent in Australia, and asks whether they live in houses out there! A letter is received here (very much to the credit of the postal authorities that it has reached its destination at all) bearing the address, Mr. A————, ‘Adelaide, New Zealand, New South Wales.' A lady comes home after some twenty years' residence at the Antipodes, and her lady friends, in a confidential mood, ask her whether the children born in Australia are

generally black! These are extreme cases, no doubt; but they nevertheless indicate an average of ignorance in reference to the Colonies which is not creditable to us, and is certain to be painful to our Colonial friends.

Of course, when such complaints are made, an English visitor does his best to parry them; and if he cannot do that altogether, then to mitigate them. He reminds his companions that England is the centre of the Empire: that upon it converge the eyes and hearts of all the colonies; whilst the Englishman has to look round the whole horizon of the Empire if he is to be acquainted with each of its dependencies. He asks his friends how much they know, not about England, but about her colonies; and insinuates that they are perhaps as ignorant about the other colonies as Englishmen are about them. But after all his ingenious attempts to turn aside their thrusts, a candid Englishman must, I think, confess that the nation at home ought to know more than it does about its magnificent possessions. We have a more magnificent heritage in this respect than any other people. We are the great colonizers of the modern world and our children ought to be so taught as to feel the grandeur of our empire, and to be aware of the responsibility which its possession entails upon us. Colonial geography ought to hold a more prominent place in our schools. Multitudes of English children can tell you the capital of each petty German principality, who don't know the names of the Australian colonies, or of the Canadian provinces. At all events, everything which tends to make the English people familiar with the position, the capabilities, and the prospects of the Greater Britain,' is a clear gain both at home and abroad.

In this view one cannot help

regretting the necessity for the severance in ecclesiastical matters which has of late years taken place between the colonies and the mother land; especially is this true of Methodism. The creation of an autonomous Methodism in these far-away regions was, no doubt, inevitable; and on the whole, it cannot fail to be of advantage to the interests of religion. But it renders more difficult and less frequent the personal intercourse which is so strong a bond amongst the Methodists of all parts of the world. Indeed, if we are not careful, we in England will soon know more of the leading men of Episcopal Methodism, than of our own Colonial Churches. Yet these are our own children, who have only just left the shelter of the paternal roof-tree. I believe I speak the mind of the most thoughtful and influential ministers and laymen of Australian Methodism, in saying that more frequent communication from them to us, and from us to them, is very desirable.

The visitor need not be, perhaps had better not be, charged with any official responsibility: and even if he be, he should remember that there are here men who have grown gray in the service of the Colonial Churches, and who must necessarily understand the wants of Colonial Methodism better than any visitor from the Old Country can possibly do: and therefore he should be very careful not to assume any tone of superiority, or to attempt the part of censor or of 'candid friend.' Such conduct would naturally be resented by men of independent spirit and self-respect. But for a man who commands the esteem and affection of Methodism at home, to visit these regions, will be a welcome event to the Ministers and Churches here; especially if he be one who can bring to the pulpit force and

freshness, and who can stir new thoughts and new sympathies in those who hear him. It is much to be hoped that, either by set

arrangement or by incidental circumstances, such visits, outward and homeward, may be not infrequent in future years.

WHETHER or not the sluggard has ever followed the advice of Solomon, naturalists more or less distinguish ed have, in the interests of science, considered the 'ways' of the ant, and essayists have frequently referred to her industry and intelligence for the purpose of pointing a moral. The accomplished author of the volume before us has given us in an attractive form, the results of personal experiments conducted during a series of years, and has laid us under obligation by adding considerably to our knowledge in this department of natural history. He tells us that while other animals approach nearer to man in bodily structure, ants have 'a fair claim to rank next to man in the scale of intelligence.' They are superior to most animals in their habits, their social organization, the elaborate character of their dwellings, and their domestic arrangements. They are divided into three families: the Formicida, Ponerida, and Myrmicida, comprising many genera and species. There are more than thirty kinds in this country, and more than a thousand species are known in warmer climates. No two species are identical in habits; and, on various accounts, their mode of life is far from easy to unravel. The fairy palace with all its silent people,' as Professor Wilson calls it, is underground, and the training of the young is carried on in the dark. In different circumstances they behave

* Ants, Bees, and Wasps. By Sir John London: Kegan Paul, Trench & Co.

differently. When they are taken from the myriad-lifed ant-hill' and kept in captivity, their habits are entirely altered. This fact may account for the diversity in the statements of naturalists touching their characteristics.

There are four well-marked periods in the life of an ant-those of the egg, the larva or grub, the pupa or chrysalis, and the perfect insect. The eggs are hatched about fifteen days after they are laid. The larvæ are small, white, legless grubs, somewhat conical in form, narrowing towards the head. They are carefully tended and fed by the workers, patient and unwearied nurses, who carry them from chamber to chamber to secure for them the necessary amount of warmth and moisture. The larval stage is the period of growth. During the chrysalis stage, though important changes take place and the organs of the perfect insect are more or less rapidly developed, no food is taken, and there is no addition to the size or weight. The perfect insect takes food but does not grow. The ant is as large when it emerges from the pupa as it ever will be. Opinions differ on the question of the duration of ant-life. Males are supposed to die almost immediately, and it has been generally understood that the females live only about a year; but Sir John Lubbock tells of two queens which he has had in his possession for eight years, and which at the time of his

Lubbock, Bart., M.P., F.R.S., D.C.L., etc.

writing continued to lay a few eggs.

Before we consider the habits of this little insect, it may be well to refer in a word or two to its physical structure. The body consists of three parts: the head, thorax, and abdomen. The head bears the principal organs of sense, and contains the brain, as the anterior portion of the nervous system may fairly be called. The thorax, supporting the legs and, when they are present, the wings, contains the principal muscles of locomotion. The abdomen contains the stomach and intestines....thesting, etc.' The antennæ consist of a short, spherical, basal piece, a long shaft, and a flagellum of from ten to thirteen small segments, the apical ones sometimes forming a sort of club. The antennæ are all-important to the ant. They are supposed to be the means of communication, giving signals on the field of battle, and taking the place of language in the economy of the commonwealth. In the opinion of some naturalists they are auditory organs. Sir John Lubbock's experiments failed to establish this theory, though he thinks it probable. They are also supposed to have the sense of smell. With the antennæ the ant gently taps the aphis, which responds to the stroke by emitting a drop of sweet fluid, which the ant drinks. The eyes of ants are of two kinds. There are large compound eyes, one on each side of the head; and so-called simple eyes. The compound eyes consist of many facets— the males generally having the greatest number. The simple eyes are never more than three, disposed in a triangle, with the apex in front. In the males and females two of the three divisions of the thorax bear each a pair of wings. In the case of the female these are stripped off by the insects themselves soon after the marriage flight. Workers never possess wings, nor do they show even

a rudimentary representative of these organs. In the thorax there are three pairs of breathing holes.

The industry of ants is proverbial. Their labours, according to some of the older naturalists, are regulated in a great measure by the phases of the moon. Our author says:

They work all day, and in warm weather, if need be, at night too. I once watched an ant from six in the morning, and she worked without intermission till a quarter to ten at night. I had put her to a saucer containing larvæ, and in this time she carried off no less than a hundred and eighty-seven to the nest. I kept another ant, which I employed in my experiments, under continuous observation several days. When I started for London in the morning, and again when I went to bed at night, I used to put her in a small bottle, but the moment she was let out she began to work again. On one occasion I was away from home for a week. On my return I took her out of the bottle, placing her on a little heap of larvæ about three feet from the nest. Under these circumstances I certainly did not expect her to return. However, though she had thus been six days in confinement, the brave little creature immediately picked up a larva, carried it off to the nest, and after half an hour's rest returned for another.'

They are their own architects, builders, road-makers and carriers. 'Spontaneous birth of the soil though. it seem to be,' says the eloquent author of Noctes Ambrosiana, 'the ant-hill hath its own order of architecture, and was elaborated by its own dwellers.' Their roads are not merely worn by their continual passage to and fro, but are prepared, rather, however, by the removal of obstacles than by any actual construction. Sometimes the pathways are arched with leaves and earth. In other cases, the ants excavate regular subterranean tunnels. When a single ant is unable to carry her heavy load, instead of giving up the work in despair, she calls in the aid of a neighbour, and the two accomplish what the one was unable to perform :

Our author quotes from Meer Hassan Ali a very interesting page touching their industry:

'More industrious little creatures cannot exist than the small red ants which are so abundant in India. I have watched them at their labours for hours without tiring. They are so small, that from eight to twelve in number labour with great difficulty to convey a grain of wheat or barley, yet these are not more than half the size of a grain of English wheat. I have known them to carry one of these grains to their nest at a distance of from six hundred to a thousand yards. They travel in two distinct lines over rough or smooth ground, as it may happen, even up and down steps, at one regular pace. The returning unladen ants invariably salute the burthened ones, who are making their way to the general storehouse; but it is done so promptly that the line is not broken nor their progress impeded by the salutation.'

The importance of the division of labour is recognised in this insect community. Certain ants are employed to collect food; others, patrol the nest. A remarkable genus is referred to in which 'certain individuals in each nest serve as animated honey-pots. To them the foragers bring their supplies, and their whole duty seems to be to receive the honey, retain it, and re-distribute it when required.'

For many years, on the strength of the teaching of Solomon, ants were credited with provident foresight. She provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.' This was naturally understood to mean that the ants laid up a store of grain for consumption when the weather would not allow them to go abroad. So Trapp :

'This poor despicable creature, the ant, is here set in the chair to read us a lecture of sedulity and good husbandry. What a deal of grain gets she together in summer! What pains doth she take for it, labouring not by daylight only, but by moonlight also!" What huge

heaps hath she! What care to bring forth her store, and lay it a-drying on a sunshine day, lest with moisture it should putrefy, etc.!' Some modern naturalists have combated this notion, and declared it to be entirely without foundation, since ants are carnivorous. The necessarily limited experience of Entomologists ought to secure them from arrogance in the statement of their opinion. It is true that our northern ants do not store up grain, but it is now a well-established fact that more than one species of Southern ants do collect seeds of various kinds. The quantity of grain thus stored up is sometimes enormous. In India a species of ant collects large stores of grassseeds, on which it subsists from February to October. They bring up their stores to dry after the closing thunder-storms of the monsoon. Harvesting ants have also been observed in the warmer parts of Europe. In what way they prevent the grain from germinating is not known. In one of the numbers of the Guardian, Addison inserted a letter, first published in France, which refers to this matter, thus:

The corn that is laid up by ants would shoot underground, if those insects did not take care to prevent it. They bite off all the buds before they lay it up, and therefore the corn that has lain in their nests will produce nothing. But though the bud be bitten off, there remains another inconvenience, that corn must needs swell and rot underground; and therefore it could be of no use for the nourishment of ants. Those insects prevent that inconvenience by their labour and industry, and contrive the matter so that corn will keep as dry in their nests as in our granaries. They gather many small particles of dry earth, which they bring every day out of their holes, and place them round to heat them in the sun. They lay their corn underground upon that earth, and cover it with the same......I know by several experiments that those little animals take great care to provide themselves with wheat when they can find it, and always pick out the best.'