href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@43577@[email protected]#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">[25]." But that locusts have leaders, like the bees or ants, distinguished from the rest by the size and splendour of their wings, is a circumstance that has not yet been established by any satisfactory evidence; indeed, very strong reasons may be urged against it. The nations of bees and ants, it must be observed, are housed together in one nest or hive, the whole population of which is originally derived from one common mother, and the leaders of the swarms in each are the females. But the armies of locusts, though they herd together, travel together, and feed together, consist of an infinity of separate families, all derived from different mothers, who have laid their eggs in separate cells or houses in the earth; so that there is little or no analogy between the societies of locusts and those of bees and ants; and this pretended sultan is something quite different from the queen-bee or the female ants. It follows, therefore, that as the locusts have no common mother, like the bees, to lead their swarms, there is no one that nature, by a different organization and ampler dimensions, and a more august form, has destined to this high office. The only question remaining is, whether one be elected from the rest by common consent as their leader, or whether their instinct impels them to follow the first that takes flight or alights. This last is the learned Bochart's opinion, and seems much the most reasonable[26]. The absurdity of the other supposition, that an election is made, will appear from such queries as these, at which you may smile.—Who are the electors? Are the myriads of millions all consulted, or is the elective franchise confined to a few? Who holds the courts and takes the votes? Who casts them up and declares the result? When is the election made?—The larvæ appear to be as much under government as the perfect insect.—Is the monarch then chosen by his peers when they first leave the egg and emerge from their subterranean caverns? or have larva, pupa, and imago each their separate king? The account given us in Scripture is certainly much the most probable, that the locusts have no king, though they observe as much order and regularity in their movements as if they were under military discipline, and had a ruler over them[27]. Some species of ants, as we learn from the admirable history of them by M. P. Huber, though they go forth by common consent upon their military expeditions, yet the order of their columns keeps perpetually changing; so that those who lead the van at the first setting out, soon fall into the rear, and others take their place: their successors do the same; and such is the constant order of their march. It seems probable, as these columns are extended to a considerable length, that the object of this successive change of leaders is to convey constant intelligence to those in the rear, of what is going forward in the van. Whether any thing like this takes place for the regulation of their motions in the innumerable locust-armies, which are sometimes co-extensive with vast kingdoms; or whether their instinct simply directs them to follow the first that moves or flies, and to keep their measured distance, so that, as the prophet speaks, "one does not thrust another, and they walk every one in his path[28]," must be left to future naturalists to ascertain. And I think that you will join with me in the wish that travellers, who have a taste for Natural History, and some knowledge of insects, would devote a share of attention to the proceedings of these celebrated animals, so that we might have facts instead of fables.

The last order of imperfect associations approaches nearer to perfect societies, and is that of those insects which the social principle urges to unite in some common work for the benefit of the community.

Amongst the Coleoptera, Ateuchus pilularius, a beetle before mentioned, acts under the influence of this principle. "I have attentively admired their industry and mutual assisting of each other," says Catesby, "in rolling those globular balls from the place where they made them, to that of their interment, which is usually the distance of some yards, more or less. This they perform breech foremost, by raising their hind parts, forcing along the ball with their hind feet. Two or three of them are sometimes engaged in trundling one ball, which, from meeting with impediments from the unevenness of the ground, is sometimes deserted by them: it is however attempted by others with success, unless it happens to roll into some deep hollow chink, where they are constrained to leave it; but they continue their work by rolling off the next ball that comes in their way. None of them seem to know their own balls, but an equal care for the whole appears to affect all the community[29]."

Many larvæ also of Lepidoptera associate with this view, some of which are social only during part of their existence, and others during the whole of it. The first of these continue together while their united labours are beneficial to them; but when they reach a certain period of their life, they disperse and become solitary. Of this kind are the caterpillars of a little butterfly (Melitæa Cinxia) which devour the narrow-leaved plantain. The families of these, usually amounting to about a hundred, unite to form a pyramidal silken tent, containing several apartments, which is pitched over some of the plants that constitute their food, and shelters them both from the sun and the rain. When they have consumed the provision which it covers, they construct a new one over other roots of this plant; and sometimes four or five of these encampments may be seen within a foot or two of each other. Against winter they weave and erect a stronger habitation of a rounder form, not divided by any partitions, in which they lie heaped one upon another, each being rolled up. About April they separate, and continue solitary till they assume the pupa.

Reaumur, to whom I am indebted for this account, has also given us an interesting history of another insect, the gold-tail-moth (Arctia chrysorhœa) before mentioned, whose caterpillars are of this description. They belong to that family of Bombycidæ, which envelop their eggs in hair plucked from their own body. As soon as one of these young caterpillars is disclosed from the egg, it begins to feed; another quickly joins it, placing itself by its side; thus they proceed in succession till a file is formed across the leaf:—a second is then begun; and after this is completed, a third—and so they proceed till the whole upper surface of the leaf is covered:—but as a single leaf will not contain the whole family, the remainder take their station upon the adjoining ones. No sooner have they satisfied the cravings of hunger, than they begin to think of erecting a common habitation, which at first is only a vaulted web, that covers the leaf they inhabit, but by their united