rectitudes of a few pedants. Could they play with substance as they can with breath, these wise simpletons would first draw up a theory of anatomy, and then annul all bodies that did not conform to it. Such and such a word or name is wrong, in their eyes, though it exists quite as naturally as any nerve or muscle, and is quite as tough though only made of air. This last they will find if they live long enough, and “hedge-sparrow” and “stormy petrel” will survive all their lifeless substitutions, though embalmed in many dull paragraphs of many dull books. But let us come back from words to things. Much as the white ants resemble real ones in many of their habits, the more remarkable ones that distinguish the latter are not practised by them. They make no slaves and keep no domestic animals—at least I have never heard of their doing so, though in natural history one must always be prepared for new discoveries. Many insects do, in fact, live with them in the termitary, just as others live in the formicaries of ants, and it is quite possible that, when these have been better studied, some of them will be found to have special relations—involving mutual intelligent action—with their landlords. At present, however, we seem to have little or no information on this head. With ants it is different, and perhaps one of the most interesting chapters in their history is that which has to do with these _myrmecophilous_, or guest insects, as they are called.[10] Take, for instance, the ants’-nest beetles, and especially one family—the _Paussidæ_—which numbers some 200 species, every one of which passes the whole of its life, when not flying by night, within the nest of some species of ant. These beetles are small, as might be expected, the largest being not more than half an inch in length, but present an extraordinary appearance owing to the antennæ ending in two broad palmated surfaces, like the horns of a moose deer, which project outwards, one on each side, at right angles with two short stalks, forming the only serviceable joints of these strangely modified feelers. All the other ones (in some species, at any rate) have been fused and welded together to form these flattened club-like structures, the use of which is not at first-sight apparent, and may not be fully understood. If, however, a _paussus_ is laid on its back upon a flat surface, a predicament which would be as embarrassing to many beetles as it is to a turtle, one of their special functions is at once seen. Turning back the two clubs till they rest on the ground, and making the joint rigid, the insect uses the one most conveniently placed as a lever, and soon gets on to its legs again. Could we imagine that such an expedient would often need to be resorted to, the curious modification of the antennæ is at once explained; but it probably rarely happens that any small beetle finds itself on its back in a place where there are no irregularities to aid it in righting itself.