Nor is it only in constructing dwellings for themselves that the termites of Africa and of other hot climates employ their masonic skill. Though, like our ants and wasps, they are almost omnivorous, yet wood, particularly when felled and dry, seems their favourite article of food; but they have an utter aversion to feeding in the light, and always eat their way with all expedition to the interior. It thence would seem necessary for them either to leave the bark of a tree, or the outer portion of the beam or door of a house, undevoured, or to eat in open day. They do neither; but are at the trouble of constructing galleries of clay, in which they can conceal themselves, and feed in security. In all their foraging excursions, indeed, they build covert ways, by which they can go out and return to their encampment.[DK] Others of the species (for there are several), instead of building galleries, exercise the art of miners, and make their approaches under ground, penetrating beneath the foundation of houses or areas, and rising again either through the floors, or by entering the bottom of the posts that support the building, when they follow the course of the fibres, and make their way to the top, boring holes and cavities in different places as they proceed. Multitudes enter the roof, and intersect it with pipes or galleries, formed of wet clay, which serve for passages in all directions, and enable them more readily to fix their habitations in it. They prefer the softer woods, such as pine and fir, which they hollow out with such nicety, that they leave the surface whole, after having eaten away the inside. A shelf or plank attacked in this manner looks solid to the eye, when, if weighed, it will not out-balance two sheets of pasteboard of the same dimensions. It sometimes happens that they carry this operation so far on stakes in the open air, as to render the bark too flexible for their purpose; when they remedy the defect by plastering the whole stick with a sort of mortar which they make with clay, so that, on being struck, the form vanishes, and the artificial covering falls in fragments on the ground. In the woods, when a large tree falls from age or accident, they enter it on the side next the ground, and devour it at leisure, till little more than the bark is left. But in this case they take no precaution of strengthening the outward defence, but leave it in such a state as to deceive an eye unaccustomed to see trees thus gutted of their insides: and "you may as well," says Mr. Smeathman, "step upon a cloud." It is an extraordinary fact, that when these creatures have formed pipes in the roof of a house, instinct directs them to prevent its fall, which would ensue from their having sapped the posts on which it rests; but as they gnaw away the wood, they fill up the interstices with clay, tempered to a surprising degree of hardness, so that, when the house is pulled down, these posts are transformed from wood to stone. They