Even when their nurslings are full-grown, and begin to spin a silken cocoon
round themselves, and it would seem as if, being no longer in need of food,
they might be left to themselves, the untiring workers do not give up their
charge. We may see them carrying little oval bodies carefully about: and
these are the cocoons which they take to the top of the nest every morning,
and back again at night. Most wonderful of all, they have an instinct which
tells them when the perfect insect within the cocoon is ready to escape
from its prison-house, and also that it is not strong enough to force its
own way through. Working three or four together, very gently and patiently
they open the silken covering, just where the insect's head lies, cutting
the threads one by one until a hole is made, large enough for the young ant
to crawl through.
When at last released from what has been its cradle and its prison, the
tiny creature is still wrapped in a thin covering, which the kind nurses
remove. They carefully stretch out the wings of the males and females, and
pile the empty cocoons outside the nest ready for building; for waste and
disorder are unknown in an ant-city.
Nursery days ended, the young insects are now shown "all over the house,"
conducted from one "winding stair" to another, taught to know friends from
foes, fed and petted, until they take their airy flight beyond the reach of
the wingless caretakers of their infant needs.
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