“I remember seeing once at a museum a small black ant preserved in amber, and he looked so natural and lifelike, so like the ants we see running about to-day, that it was hard to realize that he came to his death so long, so very long ago; in fact, before this earth of ours was ready for the creation of man.  What strange sights those little bead-eyes of his must have seen!

“When our ancestors were rude barbarians, living in caves and in holes they dug in the ground, the little people dwelt in cities built with wonderful skill and ingenuity; and while our forefathers were leading a rude, selfish life,—­herding together, it is true, but with no organized government or fixed principles of industry and good order, living each one for himself, the strong oppressing the weak,—­the little folks were ruled by a strict civil and military code.  They lived together as brethren, having all things in common—­were temperate, cleanly, industrious, civilized.

“Well, there are plenty of their descendants living all about us to-day, and I want you to become better acquainted with them, for they are very wise and cunning in their ways.  Whenever you cross a meadow, or even when you are walking on the public road, unless you take heed to your steps, the chances are that you set your foot more than once on a little heap of loose sand that we call an ant-hill.  The next time you discover the accident—­I am sure you will not do it on purpose—­wait a few moments and see what will happen.  What you have done is to block up the main entrance to an underground city, sending a quantity of loose earth down the avenue, which the inhabitants must at great labor remove.

“Let us hope none of the little people were at that instant either leaving or entering the city by that gate, for if so, they were either killed outright or badly hurt.  Soon you will see one and another citizen pushing his way through the debris, running wildly and excitedly about, as though greatly frightened and distressed at the state of things.  Then more carefully surveying the ruins, apparently consulting together as to what is best to be done, until, a plan of action having been devised and settled upon, if you wait long enough, you will see a band of workers in an orderly, systematic manner begin to repair the damage.  All this happens every time you tread on an ant-hill.  If a passing animal breaks down the embankment,—­a horse or a cow,—­of course the injury done is much greater.  In such a case every worker in the city is put to hard labor till the streets are cleared, the houses rebuilt, and all traces of the disaster removed.

“I am sure you will be interested to know what goes on from morning till night in one of these ant-cities, and I have written out on purpose to read to you this afternoon an account of one day’s proceedings.  I call my paper

LIFE IN AN ANT-HILL; OR, ONE DAY IN A MODEL CITY.