first with a certain amount of constraint, confining themselves to
lapping the extravasated liquor. I have seen, crowding around the
honeyed perforation, wasps, flies, earwigs, Sphinx-moths, Pompilidæ,
rose-chafers, and, above all, ants.

The smallest, in order to reach the well, slip under the belly of the
Cigale, who kindly raises herself on her claws, leaving room for the
importunate ones to pass. The larger, stamping with impatience, quickly
snatch a mouthful, withdraw, take a turn on the neighbouring twigs, and
then return, this time more enterprising. Envy grows keener; those who
but now were cautious become turbulent and aggressive, and would
willingly drive from the spring the well-sinker who has caused it to
flow.

In this crowd of brigands the most aggressive are the ants. I have seen
them nibbling the ends of the Cigale's claws; I have caught them tugging
the ends of her wings, climbing on her back, tickling her antennæ. One
audacious individual so far forgot himself under my eyes as to seize her
proboscis, endeavouring to extract it from the well!

Thus hustled by these dwarfs, and at the end of her patience, the
giantess finally abandons the well. She flies away, throwing a jet of
liquid excrement over her tormentors as she goes. But what cares the Ant
for this expression of sovereign contempt? She is left in possession of
the spring--only too soon exhausted when the pump is removed that made
it flow. There is little left, but that little is sweet. So much to the
good; she can wait for another drink, attained in the same manner, as
soon as the occasion presents itself.

[Illustration: DURING THE DROUGHTS OF SUMMER THIRSTING INSECTS, AND