he right
side--so far in the van of the bulk of humanity, for instance, that the
bulk of humanity considers them not wholly in their right minds. There
must surely be a sense of superiority in knowing oneself a century or
two in front of one's fellow-creatures that counterbalances the sense
of solitude. Queen Mab had no such consolation. She was an anachronism
hundreds of years on the wrong side; in fact, a relic of Paganism.

Of course she was acquainted with the language of all the beasts and
birds and insects, and she counted on their befriending her, however
much men had changed. Her brief experience of modern sailors and
missionaries, whether English or German, had indeed convinced her that
men were, even now, far from perfection. But it was a crushing blow to
find that all the beasts were traitors, and all the insects.

If it had not been for the loyal birds she would have gone back to
Polynesia at once; but they flocked faithfully to her standard, led by
the Owl, the wisest of all feathered things, who had lived too long,
and had too much good feeling to ignore fairies, though he was, perhaps,
just a little of a prig. The insects, however, who, considering the size
of their brains, one might have thought would believe in fairies and in
the supernatural in general, if anybody did, behaved disgracefully, and
the ant was the worst all. She started by saying that _her_ brain was
larger in proportion than the brain of any other insect. Perhaps Queen
Mab was not aware that Sir John Lubbock had devoted a volume to the
faculties and accomplishments of ants, together with some minor details
relating to bees and wasps, of which these insects magnified the
importance. Under _these_ circumstances, it was impossible for her to
countenance a mere vulgar superstition, like faith in fairies. She
begged leave to refer Queen Mab to various works in the International
Scientific Series for a complete explanation of her motives, and
mentioned, casually, that she also held credentials from Mr. Romanes.
Then, explaining that her character with the sluggard was at stake, she
hurried away. Evidently she did not care to be seen talking to a
fairy. It may be mentioned here, however, that Queen Mab's faith in
entomological nature was considerably shaken by the fact that when no
one was looking at her the ant always folded up her work and went to
sleep--though, if surprised in a siesta, she explained that she had only
just succumbed to comp