eed. After that, one of the horses took it into his head to
stand still, and neither blows nor entreaties could prevail with him
to proceed. They were just recovering from this dismal situation when
I found them; but perceiving everything safe, I own their present
mortification did not much displease me, as it would give me many
opportunities of future triumph, and teach my daughters more humility.

II

SAGACITY IN INSECTS[52]

Animals in general are sagacious in proportion as they cultivate
society. The elephant and the beaver show the greatest signs of this
when united; but when man intrudes into their communities they lose
all their spirit of industry and testify but a very small share of
that sagacity for which, when in a social state, they are so
remarkable.

Among insects, the labors of the bee and the ant have employed the
attention and admiration of the naturalist; but their whole sagacity
is lost upon separation, and a single bee or ant seems destitute of
every degree of industry, is the most stupid insect imaginable,
languishes for a time in solitude, and soon dies.

Of all the solitary insects I have ever remarked, the spider is the
most sagacious; and its actions, to me who have attentively considered
them, seem almost to exceed belief. This insect is formed by nature
for a state of war, not only upon other insects, but upon each other.
For this state nature seems perfectly well to have formed it. Its head
and breast are covered with a strong natural coat of mail, which is
impenetrable to the attempts of every other insect, and its belly is
enveloped in a soft, pliant skin, which eludes the sting even of a
wasp. Its legs are terminated by strong claws, not unlike those of a
lobster; and their vast length, like spears, serve to keep every
assailant at a distance.

Not worse furnished for observation than for an attack or a defense,
it has several eyes, large, transparent, and covered with a horny
substance, which, however, does not impede its vision. Besides this,
it is furnished with a forceps above the mouth, which serves to kill
or secure the prey already caught in its claws or its net.

Such are the implements of war with which the body is immediately
furnished; but its net to entangle the enemy seems what it chiefly
trusts to, and what it takes most pains to render as complete as
possible. Nature has furnished the body of this little creature with a
glutinous liquid, which, proceeding fr