"By what conveyance, then?"

"Well, my son, for a philosopher, I cannot say that your knowledge is
very profound; seeds that have no wings borrow them."

"Not from the ant, I presume?"

"No, not exactly; but from the quail, the woodcock, the swallow, and a
thousand others, that are apparently more generous than the poor ant,
to which Æsop has given a reputation for avarice that it will have
some trouble to shake off. The birds swallow the seeds, many of which
are covered with a hard, horny skin, that often resists digestion;
these are carried by the inhabitants of the air across rivers, seas,
and lakes, and are deposited by them in the neighborhood of their
nests--it may be on the top of a mountain, or in the crevice of a
rock."

"True, I never thought of that."

"There are a great many philosophers who know more about the motions
of stars than these humbler operations of Nature."

"You are caught there," said Jack.

"There are philosophers, too, who can do nothing but ridicule the
knowledge of others."

"Caught you there," retaliated Ernest.