"Why, that instinct, as you call it, Uncle Philip, is a curious thing."
"Very curious, very curious indeed, boys; and at some other time, if you wish, we will talk more about it, and I will tell you a great many stories of animals, which will show you their instinct. But for this time I have told you enough to keep you thinking until we meet again. So now just look at this picture of the carpenter-bee's house, and then you may go home."
CONVERSATION III.
Uncle Philip tells the Children about Animals that are Tailors.
"Uncle Philip, we are very glad to see you, and we think we have found out something to ask you, about a kind of work which men do, that no other animal can accomplish. As we came along this morning to visit you, and were talking of what you had told us of insects that, like carpenters, could saw wood and bore holes in it, we passed by the tailor's shop, near the church; 'and now,' said we, 'we have found out something which will puzzle good Uncle Philip: there are surely no tailors among the lower animals; so we will ask him to-day to talk about creatures that can cut out cloth and sew it up with a needle.'"
"Ah, my dear children, there are a great many things which would puzzle Uncle Philip. I do not know every thing; nor do I suppose that I can find every trade in the world among the dumb creatures which God has made. But you have made a bad choice of a puzzle this morning, my boys; for there are tailors among the inferior creatures, and some pretty nice ones, too; at any rate, they always cut so as to fit exactly."
"Why, Uncle Philip! You do not mean to say that they can cut out cloth, and then sew it up again with a needle and thread!"
"No, boys; I do not think it is to be expected that they should take a pair of shears and cut a piece of cloth, or put a piece of thread through the eye of a steel needle; any more than we expect the insect that saws, to go to the cabinet-maker, and borrow his tool to work with. But with the instruments which God has given to them, they will cut what is cloth to them, the leaves of trees and flowers, and will sew them together too: and, now I think of it, there is one that will cut his garments out of our cloth."
"Pray let us hear about them, Uncle Philip."
"Softly, boys, softly. I have two things to say to you before I begin. In the first place, I am very glad to hear that you think and talk among yourselves about the things which I tell you: and in the next place, I know that you love me, and, therefore would not wish, by puzzling me, as you call it, to produce mortification or vexation; nor do I think that I should have felt either vexed or mortified had I not been able to find tailors among the lower animals; but I do not wish you to take pleasure in puzzling people; for it is very apt to produce in you a feeling of triumph, and to make you vain: and you must remember that for one of your questions which cannot be answered, a thousand might be put to you, of the answer to which you would be ignorant. No man, my dear boys, knows every thing. Wise men talk with each other, that they may learn from each other; and the wisest are not ashamed to acknowledge their ignorance of some things; and I believe they take very little pleasure in puzzling. It is our duty to learn all that we can, and to be always willing at a proper time to teach others what we know."
"Thank you, dear Uncle Philip, for your advice. We did not mean to triumph over you, if you had not been able to tell us of tailors among the animals. But we see that you are right. We might get a foolish habit, which would do us harm."
"Exactly what I meant, boys; and now let us begin. And first we will talk of the cutting out, as the tailor always does that before he sews. There is a kind of bee [1] which, like some of the insects we have already spoken of, is furnished with a borer. With this she forms a round hole, like that made with an auger or gimlet, in a hard-trodden path, or sometimes in a piece of soft decayed wood. It is in making her nest in this hole that she plays the part of a tailor, for the nest is made of leaves, sometimes taken from the rose, at others from the birch, ash, or other trees. The little creature cuts them commonly, and I believe always, into two shapes. They are either half-oval, that is, half the shape of the bowl of a spoon, or round, and are of different sizes. Sometimes she makes a mistake in the size, and when she finds it out, she alters it. These leaves are prepared to line the hole which she has bored, and she begins with the largest pieces; taking them into the hole, she winds around in it, until she has spread very smoothly a tube of leaves the whole length of it; she then closes up one end of it by rounding it off and doubling the pieces of leaf one over another. In this case she sets about making her cells. She takes three of her half-oval pieces which have been cut to fit, and contrives to roll them, so that the edge of one piece will just lap over the edge of the next; these, when she has finished rolling them, make the hollow of the cell, which is not quite an inch high. She next turns up the ends of these pieces, which are cut to fit, so as to form the bottom: she then sets to work with three other pieces rolled in the same way inside of the cell just finished, turning up their ends as before to form the bottom; and within these she again works three others, so that her cell, when it is done, is of nine thicknesses of leaves. And you see why, though she cuts the pieces of the same shape, they are not all of one size: they are of three sizes, so as to make the cells within each other smaller and smaller."
"But, Uncle Philip, you have not said any thing about the round pieces which she cuts; how does she use them?"
"I will tell you: after she has finished one cell she lays an egg in it, and fills it all round with food nearly liquid; now as the cell is lying down on its side, all this liquid food would run out if it were not corked up, and the bee therefore uses her circular pieces to stop up the cells."
"And does she really make these round pieces to fit the cell?"
"Yes, boys, exactly; and they are cut too as regularly as if they had been first measured and marked with a pair of compasses. And, more than this, the little creature will fit one in in less than a minute. But the most curious thing is, that sometimes she will fly off to a distance to get this round piece, and bring back one which will exactly suit; so that it really seems as if she carried the size in her head. After finishing one cell she will make another, until she has completed as many as she wants; and then, as she always builds them one upon another, they appear like a parcel of thimbles stuck into each other and put into a case: and here is a picture of it."
Rose-leaf-cutter Bees, and Nest lined with Rose-leaves
"This is very wonderful, Uncle Philip; and it does seem like cutting out pieces to fit."
"Very true: but this is not the only cutter-out of leaves among the bees. There is another kind, called the poppy-bee, [2] because it uses the scarlet leaves of the poppy-flower to line its cell. It makes its hole in the ground, as smooth and regular and polished as can be, and then proceeds to line it all around with pieces of the leaves, and cuts them to fit as she goes on. If a piece is too large she will trim it down to the proper size and shape, and always carries away the scraps. Now if you should take a pair of scissors and try to cut the leaf of a poppy-flower, you would wrinkle it, but this little workman will spread out what she cuts as smooth as glass. When she has lined this hole throughout, and carried the lining out beyond the entrance, she fills it with honey and pollen, or bee-bread, as it is called, about half an inch high, lays an egg, then folds down the leaves on it, and finally fills the upper part with earth."
"Then she was not working for herself?"
"No; she was providing a house for her young, and