whose habitation is within the branches of trees: they work out the pith even to the end of the smallest twig, and though nothing is to be seen outside, yet within the tree is completely filled with insects; and, if a little piece is broken, swarms of ants rush out immediately. You may think that it would be very amusing to see this, but I can assure you you would not wish to try the experiment a second time, for the angry little crea THE habitation of ants is a wonderful building, : In New South Wales there is a species of ants VOL. XIV. A kind of ants found in South America construct their nest of green leaves, and place it on the trunk between the branches of a tree. Some of these nests are as big as a hogshead. This is their habitation during the wet season: when it is dry, they leave their nests, and swarm all over the woods, and, on their return, each brings a piece of green leaf, so large that the insect itself is quite hidden under its burden. Yet they march steadily along, and it is a pretty sight to see so many pressing forward together: the path looks quite green with them. In some places these ants are called parasol-ants, from their carrying these round green, pieces of leaf. Great paths, three or four inches broad, are made by them, and they will sometimes strip a whole tree of its leaves in one night. Ants of all kinds live in families; all however N blesome to us. that are born in a nest do not remain in it. Vast swarms may be seen in the summer, furnished with wings, and assembling in order to leave their home for ever. They are sometimes so numerous as to look like a dark cloud floating in the air, and, if many did not perish, they would become very trouThe greater part of these flying ants are either eaten up by birds, or fall into the water, and become the prey of fish. Those which escape through all these dangers build themselves each a small house, which is soon filled and enlarged by their offspring, until in time it grows into a populous city. And what do you think becomes of the wings with which I told you each of these ants was furnished? They were intended by Providence only to serve the purpose we have mentioned, and, as soon as they have carried her to a convenient place in which to found her colony, the ant pulls them off herself, and thus is secured from all temptation to wander from her home. These ample wings were her chief ornament, but they would be an hindrance in the great work she has to perform, and they are sacrificed without a moment's hesitation. The chief part of the ants in a nest are workers, and they perform all the labour: they have never any wings; and, like the working bees, are never parents themselves, but serve as nurses to the offspring of others. The mode of bringing up the young ants renders their task still more fatiguing than that of the bees and wasps. As soon as the sun's first rays begin to shine upon the nest, the ants that are at the top go down in great haste to wake their companions; and all the young brood are then carried, and laid in the sun for a quarter of an hour. After this, they require to be placed in other apartments, where they may be warm, without being scorched; and every evening, an hour before sunset, they must all be carried down into the lower cells, to be safe from the cold. There are seven or eight thousand of these young grubs in a large nest, so you may imagine that it requires much diligence to do this, besides licking them with their tongues as a cat does her kittens, to keep them clean, feeding them, collecting food, and repairing the nest, which is so easily injured. their own escape. If you have ever seen an ant-hill disturbed, you must have observed how anxious all the inhabitants seemed about a number of white substances, something like grains of wheat; how they seized them in their mouths, and tried to carry them into a place of safety, instead of providing for These little burdens, which they consider so precious, are the young of the nest; nor is their affection confined to them. When one of their companions is hurt, they anoint the wounded part with a drop of fluid from their mouth: if a load is too heavy for one, another ant will soon come, and ease it of part of the weight; and, if one is attacked, all will hasten to defend it. They are always ready to promote each other's welfare, and to share with the absent any good thing they may obtain. They even seem to rejoice at meeting after they have been separated: when some ants which had been taken away four months before were restored to a nest, the others caressed them with their antennæ, or little horns-for so they make one another understand, as the bees do-and admitted them into the family again. What a lesson do some of these little traits afford to us! They set us an example to relieve and assist the sick, and always to extend help to those who need it. And surely if we, who have so many reasons why we should be kind, and render assistance to each other, are quarrelsome and selfish, envious and jealous of the good things which others possess, and unwilling to give them a share in what we have; these little creatures, so generous and disinterested, may well put us to the blush. The patience and perseverance of ants are surprising, and in the bible they are spoken of as affording a most useful lesson. "Go to the ant, thou sluggard," says Solomon: "consider her ways, and be wise." The sight of one of these little creatures is said to have had a great effect upon the mind of a celebrated conqueror, named Timour. He was forced to take refuge from his enemies in a ruined building: as he sat alone there many hours, and was almost in despair, his attention was attracted by an ant carrying something larger than itself up a high wall. He counted the efforts it made to effect its object, and found that sixty-nine times its burden fell to the ground, but the seventieth time it reached the top. "This sight," said Timour, "gave me courage at the moment, and I have never forgotten the lesson it conveyed." Let my young readers gain the same improvement from it, and, when they have anything to do which is difficult or troublesome, let them go on patiently trying, and generally, like the little ant, they will suc ceed at last. There is one most extraordinary circumstance respecting ants, which I must now tell you. You will smile at the idea of their having cows, yet it is quite true that they keep certain insects, from which they draw a sweet liquid, in the same manner as we obtain milk from cows, and they even make a property of them. If any stranger-ants attempt to climb the branch of a tree, or the stalk of a plant, where they keep their herds, those who consider themselves the rightful owners drive them away, and may be seen running about in a great bustle. Sometimes they build a little wall round the place where these cattle are, and so keep them safe in a kind of pen. Some kinds, choosing to have them still more within reach, carry large herds of these insect-cows to their nest, and let them feed on the grass and stalks round which it is built. They take as much care of these creatures' eggs as of their own, put them in a place of safety when the nest is attacked, and carry them in the same manner into the sun; that by their being hatched early there may be a good supply of this nourishing food. Ants are remarkable for courage. Though so small, they never fear to face any danger, but immediately turn round and prepare to bite, and to shoot their poison into the wound. They sometimes fix themselves so obstinately to the object of their attack, that they will sooner be torn limb from limb than let go their hold; and man himself strikes no terror into them. These tiny nations, so well armed and courageous, are not always at peace with their neighbours. A square foot of earth is to them a kingdom: their droves of insect-cattle are as valuable to them as our flocks and herds are to us; and the body of a fly or a beetle is a most valu able possession. No wonder then if wars and quarrels arise. Myriads may sometimes be seen pouring forth from two rival cities, and meeting half way between their respective habitations, equalling in numbers the armies of two mighty empires. Though they do not cover a space larger than two or three square feet, yet they present a spectacle exactly like that of a field of battle where men are the combatants. Thousands are to be seen struggling together, shooting poison at one another, which fills the air with a strong odour, and is as destructive to them as gunpowder is to us. Thousands of the dead and mangled strew the ground, while others are led away as prisoners; and crowds are seen hastening to reinforce the contending armies. How the ants know those of their own party it is impossible to say, as they are generally of the same kind, and appear to us to be all alike in make, colour, and scent. They are not distinguished, as human soldiers are, by differentcoloured uniforms, yet it very rarely happens that two of one side attack each other; and, if by chance they do, the mistake is presently found out, and they make friends directly. When night comes on each party returns to its own city; but the next morning the battle is resumed with fresh fary, until at length a rainy season separates them, and the quarrel is forgotten. Arts not only fight pitched battles, as we have seen above: they also besiege neighbouring cities, and take them by storm. The object they have in view is a most extraordinary one, and could hardly have been believed, if it had not been observed and related by so many people. The ants Be are now going to speak of are warlike and pwerful, but not industrious, like most other kinds. In order that they may have slaves to do their work for them, they attack the nest of a dark-coloured kind, called negro-ants, and ry off their young. To these, when they are wn up, all the labour is left: they build and r their common dwelling, collect food, ata to the young, and even feed their masters, carry them about the nest. Every year the t-coloured ants add to the number of their Lives. At the season when there is a proper ply of workers in the negro ant-hills, they send spies into the neighbourhood, and prepare for arching. On the return of these spies the signal made, by touching one another with their an, and they then set out to attack the negro ty. Their way of marching is singular: eight ten ants march first, and these continually heel round and join the rest of the army, while others succeed to their station. These on their parts are much attached to their The buildings of the white ants are of a much firmer kind than those of the ants with which we are acquainted, for they have some means of hardening the clay which they use, so that it resembles stone. The nests of some kinds are like a number of sugar-loaves, of different sizes, piled one upon another. They are so hard that you might walk upon them without any fear of their breaking; and in the countries we have mentioned it is very common to see wild bulls standing upon them, to keep watch lest any beasts of prey should attack the herds while they are feeding. Other kinds of termites build their nests with flattened roofs, and in the form of turrets, or perhaps they may be better compared to mushrooms. At a certain time in the year numbers leave their nests in winged swarms, as we have already related of the other ants. On these occasions they perish in vast quantities, being eaten, not only by birds, beasts, fishes, and many kinds of insects, but by man himself: they are about the size of a grain of rice, and when fried are considered as a great dainty. Now and then a single pair escapes out of many millions, and, if by chance any common or worker-ants meet with them, they immediately choose them for their king and queen, and determine to form a new colony. The first step they take is to enclose them in a chamber of clay, with entrances just large enough for themselves to go in and out at, but not big enough for the king and queen; who, as in the case of the queen bee, are of a larger kind than the workers; and here they remain for the rest of their lives. Round the royal apartment are built a number of nurseries, and of magazines or store-houses, in As soon as the guards of the city perceive the which to keep provisions. To these they are conEnemy coming, they dart upon them with the ut- tinually adding, for the family becomes daily tfury, and crowds pour forth to assist; but more numerous, the queen laying as many as the besieging party rush on, and drive them back, eighty thousand eggs in the course of twentyuntil they retreat into the lowest story. Num-four hours. The food they lay up appears at first es enter with them at the gates; while others sight like raspings of wood: it is chiefly made of make a breach in the walls, through which the gum collected from plants. march in. Presently they all come t, each carrying a young ant, which has been ed in spite of its anxious guardians; and thus return in triumph with their spoil. It is a rous sight to behold their slaves coming out of nest to meet them, conducting the young priin, bringing food to the warriors, and cang them, as if they rejoiced at their return. nquerors The magazines are built, like most other parts of the nest, of clay, but the nurseries are formed of small grains of wood, glued together. A pathway half an inch wide is often made, winding gradually upwards within this high building, that it may be easier to climb with their loads from one part to another; and even a staircase, or kind of bridge resting on one vast arch, is sometimes car ried for the same purpose from the top to the bottom of this wonderful dwelling. Tunnels are bored by these insects all round their nest to the distance frequently of several hundred feet; they are of enormous size compared with that of the little builders by whom they are made, sometimes measuring nearly a foot across, which is ten or twelve times as large in proportion to themselves as the tunnel under the Thames is, compared in measure with human beings. Among the white ants there are some of a different form from the rest, which act the part of soldiers, their business being to defend the nest. Some of them always form a guard round the royal cell, and these faithful subjects never forsake their sovereign, even in the greatest danger. If any one is bold enough to attack the nest, and make a breach in the walls, the labourers immediately retire within, and a soldier comes out to see what is the matter: he then returns to give the alarm, and numbers run out, scrambling as fast as they can, one after the other, with the utmost rage and fury. In their haste they often miss their hold, and tumble down the sides of their hill; but they soon recover themselves, and bite every thing they run against. Woe to him whose hands or legs they seize: they will make their teeth meet at the first stroke, and never quit their hold, though they be pulled limb from limb. The naked legs of the negroes suffer sadly from them, and stockings are but a slight defence. As soon as the danger appears to be over, the labourers begin to repair the breach, every one carrying a mass of mortar, half as big as his body. As fast as they come up each sticks its burden upon the wall; and this is done so quickly and regularly, that though thousands are employed, they never seem to hinder one another. While this work is going on scarcely any one of the soldiers remain out: one however places himself close to the wall which is being repaired, and seems to act as overseer of the works. Every now and then lifting his head, and striking upon the wall, he makes a noise, which is answered by a loud hiss from the labourers, and appears to be a signal to make haste; for every time it is heard they apply to their task with increased diligence. The mischief done by the white ants is such as can scarcely be believed. They devour almost every thing they meet with, but wood is their chief food, and they will sometimes destroy a spacious apartment in one night. Having a great dislike to feeding in the light, they make their approaches under ground, either through the floors or by the posts which support the building. Multitudes enter the roof, and form pipes and galleries of clay, which serve for passages in all directions, and thus they completely take possession of a house. devotedness to God less akin to humanity than to what we conceive of the nature of a rapt seraph in bliss, and, for the present state of things, verging somewhat towards asceticism*, we trace not the slightest evidence that any such tendency induced apathy to a single human being, or that the weal and woe of our whole race were not, to the close of his days, objects of his dearest sympathy, or that he did not maintain most carefully all the relations of life, whether in his personal or ministerial character. Perhaps a hope was always more or less latent in him, that some plan might be eventually framed which would enable Christians of a like meditative cast of mind with himself, to enjoy whatever is good in the monastic system, unmixed with its too manifest and dangerous evils. But the more he advanced in years and the knowledge of mankind, the more did his alarm at papists and every thing popish in principle or bearing, so deepen within hita, that he gave less expression to that hope, while he spoke out more strongly, plainly and frequently on their corrupt and grievous errors. Loving with all his heart real catholic unity, he deplored its violation by Romanists in their monstrous assumptions over the vineyard of Christ, while he saw in their gaudy, hollow pageantries the ruin of gospel purity and trutht. Would that his memory, his virtues, his spotless sanctity and consummate judgment, could speak with effect to any, at this hour, in the same stract contemplation. Of all the fathers and ancient writers-and he had read them most deeply-he quotes oftener than any other the writings of Bernard, a saint of eminent holiness, but ever soaring aloft in the regions of ab"Something," remarks Mr. Pearson, in his very interesting life of the good archbishop, "something of a cloisteral complexion appears to have been wrought in Leighton by the character of the times, and by the scarcity of men like-minded with himself. He plunged into the solitudes of devotion with a view to escape from the polluting commerce of the world, to gain the highest places of sacred contemplation, and to maintain perpetual intercourse with heaven." "He + When preaching (sermon 1st, Wilson's edit.) on "The wisdom that is from above," and glancing at Romish hostility to it, he says, " I shall never deny that a false, superstitious religion stands in need of gross ignorance: not too much scripture wisdom for the people.' The pomp of that vain religion, like court masks, shows best by candlelight (and nature likes it well); the day of spiritual wisdom would discover its imposture too clearly." And bishop Burnet, who knew him most intimately, says, was in his last years turned to a greater severity against popery than I had imagined a man of his temBY THE REV. G. W. LEWIS, M.A., per and of his largeness in point of opinion was capable of. He spoke of the corruptions of the secular Minister of St. Peter's, Southwark. spirit, and of the cruelty that appeared in that church. ADMITTING, as perhaps rigid impartiality with an extraordinary concern; and lamented the will require, that the holiness of Leighton was shameful advances that we seemed to be making tosomewhat disfigured by an excessive abstrac-edge that I did not expect from so recluse and morti wards popery. He did this with a tenderness and a tion from society, and, by views of duty in fied a man." THE PASTORAL CHARACTER AS DEVELOPED BY THE LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. No. II. sacred calling, who, whether incautiously or by design, so misrepresent to the unstable, unwary or ignorant, our separation from Rome, as to throw a dark shade over that day of spiritual freedom which was introduced by the reformation. God grant that our sinful, wayward folly may not provoke him to cause or permit the light of that day to become wholly eclipsed! Fearfully rapid has been the retrocession lately of not a few to the mere school-men's fictions of the most ignorant and superstitious periods of the church. amongst us observers. If there was among the galaxy of graces which Leighton possessed above even the best of his compeers one that may be deemed his characteristic, it was that of humility. So inwrought in him was it, that it may be said to have become part of his very self. He could not be otherwise than literally abased in the dust, when he reflected on man in relation to the glorious and eternal God. Hence the eloquence of his daily, open, guileless career told upon all As he said on one occasion strikingly, in reference to the conduct of the Lord's ministering servants, and thereby unconsciously sketched one of the loveliest lineaments in his own portrait-"This rhetoric of the life gives to the instructors of the palpit an energy far beyond the reach of the loftiest strains of unhallowed oratory." We aver not that the heights of holiness which he reached were of easier access to him in consequence of that humility, for we are taught that in him, as in believers of more stunted growth, the renewed mind is solely and exclusively "the workmanship of God in Christ Jesus." Yet surely that humility may be thought to have given his pastoral character a greater beauty, and to have invested his labours and accomplish ments with a more heavenly air, than did all his other excellencies combined. Holiness was, indeed, the element in which his soul breathed freely; and, considering both his fervid love of Christ and his near conformity with his Master's spirit, perhaps there never has been, since the time of St. Paul, one by whom the following verses-from a morceau somewhat quaint in expression, but beautiful in tone, from George Herbert's poems-could be uttered by a truer heart : "Holiness on the head; - Light and perfection on the breast; Christ is my only head; My alone, only heart and breast: So holy in my head; Perfect and light in my dear breast; Come, people; Aaron's drest." Of his writings it is impossible to speak without great admiration. If justice was done to his compositions by the original printer of his sermons, he was either not so superior a master, or not so careful a student of the lucidus ordo, as have been many far inferior to him in mental power. Indeed there appear various proofs in his chief work, the "Comment on the 1st epistle of St. Peter," which create a doubt whether he bestowed much labour on the construction of his sentences, or the choice and arrangement of his language. Yet does every part of his writings abound in evidence of a vigorous, fine and commanding genius*. The object of this paper having been chiefly that of shewing the archbishop's development of the pastoral character in his own bright and godly career, it would be foreign to my aim to cite passages from his writings at any length, in proof of his great talents and learning. One or two extracts, however, will not be thought intrusive, and cannot be felt uninteresting. Nature and art appear to have been to him, as to Edmund Burke, like vast storehouses, of which he possessed the key; for, whatever be the point before him, he has always at command a perfect use of the most apt, beautiful and striking figures, in its support and illustration. Indeed, so bounded is his affluence in imagery as to irradiate almost every page, and render his style, though sometimes crude, yet always enchanting. A few, and but a few of his similitudes, and those taken at random, will prove this. Speaking of the desire for vain or useless knowledge, he exhorts his hearers to "wean their hearts from this vanity of desire: such knowledge is as the cypress trees-fair and tall, but fruitless and sapless." Asserting our need of divine illumination, he observes, "First have an enlightened understanding, un From Mr. Robert Hall of Leicester-who was no attachment to a communion adverse altogether to mean judge of such a subject, and who, with a warm ours, was little likely to put on record an unmerited eulogium on one of our greatest worthies-we have this opinion: "Full of the richest imagery, and breathing a spirit of the most sublime and unaffected devotion, the reading Leighton is a truce to all human cares and human passions; and I can compare it with nothing but the beautiful representation in the 23rd psalm, Lying down in green pastures and by the side of still waters."" And another celebrated dissenter, Dr. Doddridge, speaking of his style, says, "It has often reminded me of that soft and sweet eloquence of Ulysses, which Homer describes as falling like flakes of snow; and, if I might be allowed to pursue the similitude, I could add, like this it penetrates deep into the mind too, and tends to enrich and fructify it." |