Thus, among men, those who reflect least are the most expert at imitation: and therefore it is not surprising that we meet with it in animals, who have no reflection. These ought to possess it in a higher degree of perfection, because they have nothing within them to counteract it; no principle by which they may have the desire to be different from each other. Among men, it is from the mind that proceeds the diversity of our characters, and the variety of our actions. Brute animals, by having no mind, have not that _self_ which is the principle of the difference, the cause which constitutes the individual. Of necessity, then, when their organization is similar, or they are of the same species, they must copy each other, do the same things in the same manner, and imitate each other with a greater degree of perfection than one man can imitate another. This talent for imitation, therefore, far from implying that animals have thought and reflection, is a proof that they are absolutely destitute of both. For the same reason it is that the education of animals, though short, is always attended with success. Almost every thing the parent knows they quickly learn by imitation. The young are modelled by the old: they perceive the latter approach or fly, when they hear certain sounds, when they see certain objects, or smell certain odours; at first they approach or fly without any determinative cause whatever, but imitation; and afterwards they approach or fly of themselves, in consequence of their having acquired a habit of doing so whenever they feel the same sensations. Having compared man with the brute animal, taken individually, let us now compare them together collectively, and endeavour at the same time to ascertain the source of that kind of industry which we observe in certain species of animals, and those even the meanest and the most numerous. For this industry, what encomiums have not been bestowed on particular insects. The wisdom and talents of the bee, observers speak of with admiration; they are said to possess an art peculiar to themselves, that of perfect government. A beehive, they add, is a republic, in which the labour of each individual is devoted to the public good, in which every thing is ordered, distributed, and shared, with a foresight, an equity, and a prudence, which is really astonishing. The government and policy of Athens itself, were not more exemplary. But I should never have done, were I barely to skip over the annals of this commonwealth, and to draw from the history of this insect all the incidents which have excited the admiration of its different historians.