As the young aphides had been brought by the ants to the daisies, and as they had subsequently laid their eggs there, it would certainly seem that the ants are accustomed to collect these eggs from without, and that the aphides do not lay them in the nest. When they are hatched the young aphides, as we have seen, are taken out to feed and lay, and these new eggs laid by them are, in their turn, brought in and tended by the ants. This, as Sir John Lubbock remarks, is a much more remarkable thing than if the aphides, living in the nest with the ants, simply laid their eggs there. In that case they would probably hatch out whether they were tended or not, and it could not be long before the ants would become aware of their value. Here, however, we see this knowledge—how first obtained we know not—exhibited in a more striking manner, and also a great degree of foresight displayed, since as the eggs, except for accidents, would hatch where they were, it can only be with the idea of providing against these that the ants bring them into their nest. There they are safe from many dangers which threaten them above ground, and are not exposed to the rigours of winter or other climatic vicissitudes. What are we to say of this act? I think there might be one or two things to say, but Sir John Lubbock says this: “Our ants may not, perhaps, lay up food for the winter; but they do more, for they keep, during six months, the eggs which will enable them to procure food during the following summer—a case of prudence unexampled in the animal kingdom.”[49] There is a slight national note here which should, perhaps, make us suspicious. At least, I am always suspicious when a Frenchman praises anything French, an Englishman anything English—even ants or the climate—a Tierra del Fuegian anything in Tierra del Fuego, and so on. No doubt if prudence really induces the act, it is very great, but if we could imagine any other cause through which the habit might have begun, natural selection would have brought about the rest, since those ants which stored aphides’ eggs would have had more aphides, and consequently more honey-dew to nourish them than those which did not. Now the eggs might at first have been eaten, and so carried down, as provisions, or aphides, brought into the nest, might have laid before they got out again. However the act originated, it is probably a prudential one now, but if the growth of prudence has been aided by that of an inherited habit, having nothing to do with this, it is not quite so remarkable. But what, exactly, does “our” in the above passage mean? _Lasius flavus_ is not confined to England—at least, I suppose not—and if other countries have a claim on its mental powers, our cue should rather be to undervalue them—at least, the note of national vanity should be held in check by the all as powerful one of national prejudice.