the great area; and, those there are seem
intended only to admit, into the nurseries,that
genial warmth which is collected by the dome.

The subterranean passages running under
the hills in various directions are sometimes
as wide, or wider, than the bore of a large
cannon. These galleries are very thickly
lined with the sort of clay of which the hill
is composed, and ascend the inside of the
shell spirally, winding round the whole
building to the top. Sometimes they
intersect each other at different heights, opening
either immediately into the dome at various
places, or into the interior buildings and new
turrets. Underground there are a great
many passages leading downwards by sloping
descents three or four feet perpendicularly
among the gravel, from which the labouring
termites cull the finer parts, and work up in
their mouths to the consistence of mortar.
This mortar forms that solid clay or stony
substance of which all their hills and buildings,
except the nurseries, are composed.
Other galleries again, ascend leading out
horizontally on every side, and are carried
underground, near the surface, to an immense
distance. Sometimes these passages cannot
be continued underground in the required
direction. The termites therefore build pipes
or covered ways along the surface of the
ground, composed of the same materials as
the nests. These they continue, with many
windings and ramifications, to great lengths;
and when it is possible, they construct
subterranean pipes running parallel with them,
into which they retreat if the tread of man
or animals alarms them, and sink and save
themselves if their galleries aboveground are
destroyed by violence.

Each community of termites consists, as it
has already been stated, of a king and queen,
soldiers and labourers. The labourers are
the most numerous, being in the proportion
of a hundred to one soldier. They are about
the size of an ordinary ant, but perfectly
white in colour. Their bodies are so delicate,
that they are crushed by the least touch; but
their heads bear horny dented mandibles, or
pincers, which are strong enough to attack
anything except stones and metals.

The second caste, or soldiers, have a very
different form from the labourers, although
they are in fact the same insects, having
undergone their first metamorphosis and
approached one degree nearer to the perfect
state. The soldiers are about half an inch
long, and equal in bulk to fifteen labourers.
The termites of this order preserve all their
lives the characteristics and peculiarities
which have caused them to be called soldiers.
Numbering about one in a hundred of the
population, they constitute a class apart,
which has sometimes been styled the nobility.
In time of peace they live in idleness, merely
doing duty now and then as sentinels inside
the hills, or superintending the labourers,
over whom they evidently exercise great
authority. In war times, however, they
make up for their indolence by fighting
bravely and dying, if necessary, in the defence
of the community. At the first blow, which
uncovers one of their galleries, the nearest
sentinel runs to the spot, and then communicates
the alarm to those nearest. In an
instant the breach is covered by a crowd of
warriors, who dart in every direction their
large heads, opening and shutting their jaws
with a great noise. If they happen to seize
hold of anything they will never let it go
again, but rather allow their own limbs and
bodies to be torn to pieces than unlock
their jaws. When they reach the hand or
the leg of their aggressor they instantly
draw blood; every soldier drawing more
than its own weight of blood. Negroes
unprotected by clothing are very soon put to
flight, and Europeans generally come out of
the battle with their clothes torn and blood-
stained.

While struggling with their enemies these
soldiers knock every now and then upon the
ground with their jaws, and the labourers
answer this well-known signal by a sort of
hiss. If the attack is at all suspended a
crowd of labourers mount, each carrying a
mouthful of prepared clay. Every one in its
turn approaches the breach, puts down its
share of mortar, and then retires without
ever coming in the way or hindering its
companions. As a matter of course, the new
wall is very rapidly built up, and during this
time the soldiers get out of the way with the
exception of one or two for every thousand
labourers. One of these seems to be the
overseer of the work, for taking its station,
near the wall, it turns its head slowly in
every direction, and every two or three
minutes knocks the roof rapidly with its jaws
—producing a little louder noise than the
tick of a watch. Each time it is answered
by a hissing which issues from all parts of
the building, and the labourers redouble their
activity. If the attack is recommenced, the
labourers immediately disappear, and the
soldiers are again at the breach, struggling
and defending their ground inch by inch. At
the same time, the labourers are not idle;
blocking up the passages, walling in the
galleries, and above all, endeavouring to
save their sovereigns. For this purpose they
fill up the ante-rooms with mortar—so much
so that Smeathman, on reaching the centre
of a hill, could not distinguish the royal
chamber, which was completely lost in the
midst of a heap of clay. But the neighbourhood
of this chamber was betrayed by the
crowd of labourers and soldiers assembled
all round it, who allowed themselves to be
crushed rather than desert the place. The
chamber itself generally contained some
thousands who had remained to be walled in
with the royal couple. Smeathman found
that they let themselves be carried away
with the objects of their devotion, and