mire (his shape and way of life only excepted) is endowed with
human passions. How should we smile to hear one give us an account of
the pedigrees, distinctions, and titles that reign among them!

7. Observe how the whole swarm divide and make way for the pismire that
passes through them! You must understand he is an emmet of quality, and
has better blood in his veins than any pismire in the mole-hill.--Don't
you see how sensible he is of it, how slow he marches forward, how the
whole rabble of ants keep their distance?

8. Here you may observe one placed upon a little eminence, and looking
down upon a long row of labourers. He is the richest insect on this side
the hillock, he has a walk of half a yard in length, and a quarter of an
inch in breadth, he keeps a hundred menial servants, and has at least
fifteen barley-corns in his granary. He is now chiding and beslaving the
emmet that stands before him, and who, for all that we can discover, is
as good an emmet as himself.

9. But here comes an insect of figure! don't you take notice of a little
white straw that he carries in his mouth? That straw, you must
understand, he would not part with for the longest tract about the
mole-hill: did you but know what he has undergone to purchase it! See
how the ants of all qualities and conditions swarm about him! Should
this straw drop out of his mouth, you would see all this numerous circle
of attendants follow the next that took it up, and leave the discarded
insect, or run over his back to come at his successor.

10. If now you have a mind to see all the ladies of the mole-hill,
observe first the pismire that listens to the emmet on her left hand, at
the same time that she seems to turn away her head from him. He tells
this poor insect that she is a goddess, that her eyes are brighter than
the sun, that life and death are at her disposal. She believes him, and
gives herself a thousand little airs upon it.

11. Mark the vanity of the pismire on your left hand. She can scarce
crawl with age; but you must know she values herself upon her birth; and
if you mind, spurns at every one that comes within her reach. The little
nimble coquette that is running along by the side of her, is a wit. She
has broke many a pismire's heart. Do but observe what a drove of lovers
are running after her.

12. We will here finish this imaginary scene; but first of all, to draw
the parallel closer, will suppose, if you please, that death comes down