"These galleries lead from the city under ground, and are as large as the bore of a large cannon; they are thirteen inches across, and more than a hundred yards long. I have already told you that the labourers never come out into the light, when they can help it; and these underground ways are the great roads to the city, to fetch in clay, or wood, or water, or provisions: and now I will tell you another thing which shows a great deal of sense. As some of their houses are very high up, you know they would find it very hard to climb up through all the streets with a heavy load in a straight line; so when these large ways underground reach the outside wall, they just come through and keep on winding around the inside of it like a corkscrew all the way to the top; and there are other galleries opening from it at different places into the city. One thing has been noticed about these ants; they can scarcely climb at all up a perpendicular wall. Therefore on the upright side of any part of the city you may see a road made, standing out from the wall like a ledge; it is flat on the top, and half an inch wide, and goes up gradually like a stair-case, or like a road cut out on the side of a mountain.
"Here is a picture of one of their cities cut straight down through the middle. At the bottom, in the centre, is the queen's house; over it is a floor, and the two crooked things you see rising up from the floor, are bridges."
"But, Uncle Philip, you said you would tell us about the soldiers and labourers coming out when the city is attacked."
"Yes, I did. As soon as a hole is made in the outside wall, you will see a soldier run out, and walk about as if to look around; but as he is blind, it cannot be to see what the danger is. He may have some way though of finding out without seeing. Presently he will go in, as if to tell the others, and then out pour the soldiers in great numbers, as fast as the hole will let them; and just as long as you strike the outside wall, they will continue to rush out. They seem to be in a terrible passion. They are in such a hurry that sometimes they slip, and roll down the outside of the hill; but they jump up again instantly, and begin to bite every thing they run against, for they are blind and cannot tell a friend from an enemy."
"Do they bite hard, Uncle Philip?"
"Very hard indeed. They make their hooked jaws, which are like awls, you know, meet at every bite; and if it should happen to be a man's leg they get hold of, you would see upon his stocking a spot of blood an inch long. At every bite too you may hear their jaws snapping together and making quite a noise. Some of them too (perhaps they are the officers) are constantly beating with their awls upon the outside wall, and make a sound something quicker and sharper than the ticking of a watch. You may hear it at a distance of three or four feet. When these biters lay hold, nothing will make them let go; you must tear them away by pieces. After you stop striking the wall, in about half an hour they seem to get over their rage and go back into the city, and then out come the labourers. While the noise continues you will not see one of them; they all fled at the first appearance of danger. But now they come, each one with a bundle of mortar in his mouth, ready made; and they stick it on the hole so fast, and with such order, that though thousands and thousands are at work they never interrupt each other. And while the labourers are busy, if you look you may commonly see a soldier or two walking about; but they never touch the mortar, nor help in any way to mend the hole. One of these soldiers always stands near the spot where the labourers are at work, and every now and then turns slowly around, and frequently lifts up his head, and with his awls beats upon the building, and makes a sort of hissing noise. As soon as that is done you may hear a loud hiss from all the labourers, both on the outside of the wall and from the inside of the city, and then the labourers run faster, and work as quick again. If you attack the nest again, away run all the labourers as fast as their legs will carry them, and out pour the soldiers as before; and the same thing is always seen upon every attack, of soldiers to fight and labourers to work."
"Well, Uncle Philip, this is a very strange story; much more interesting than any we have yet heard."