sily upon a small stick which supported her only bean stalk.
Doubtless the wind had blown into Piccolissima's garden one of the
white cottony tufts which enfold the seeds of the poplar, for it was
a young shoot of poplar which served as support to the plant, and as
a garden for the ants. Upon the white cottony stem was an assemblage
of these little animals, green, brown, yellow, and transparent, all
plump, singularly alike, grave, immovable, like a Roman senate.
Certain active little creatures with fine shapes walked among them,
around them, over them, without appearing to hurt them, or
disturbing their gravity. The ants carried their easy manners still
farther; they struck lightly, rapidly, alternately, with their two
antennae, the backs and the sides of these peaceable animals; they
even went so far as to turn them over with their fore paws, and all
the while the other insects did not move, and allowed them to do as
they pleased.

"Look! look!" cried Piccolissima.

"Beautiful little wonder," answered her brother, "these are grubs,
that's all; and who does not know nowadays, that these are the cows
of the ants?"

"Their cows!" repeated the little girl; and she remained absorbed in
her examination. The ants still continued, in a playful and
irregular manner, to strike their little cows, whose trunks
Piccolissima saw were thrust into the bark of the aspen. Sometimes
an ant gave a little kick, and always one was at hand, with his jaws
extended, and his mouth open, ready to receive a drop of sirup,
which the eye of Piccolissima at last discovered falling from the
extremity of the body of the grub. "I see, I see!" she exclaimed;
"it is their way of milking. O the funny little pastoral people!"
Whilst she was in this ecstasy, the ant with the ends of his
antennae took the transparent little drop into his mouth; and then
carefully cleansed with the brushes of his feet the sugared antennae
which had served for fork and spoon, or rather for fingers.

"I should like to talk with him," said Piccolissima, as she saw the
ant making his toilet, "but these are a very silent, a very reserved
people; perhaps they are dumb."

The ant, who had just swallowed the drop of sirup, now quietly
descended the aspen walk; his belly was well stuffed and shining,
and he stopped now and then to rest, and wash his face. He met, as
he went down, an ant who was ascending the path. The new comer ran
up to him as to an intimate friend, as soon as