Toilers in the Garden-of-the-Gods, are most remarkable, even amongst that super-interesting insect group—Ants! These really wonderful creatures are existent in many countries and are quite unique indeed, in that they utilize certain individuals of their formicary for storage purposes—one might say as living honey jars. The strange part, too, is that their “nests” are formed, or excavated in sandstone ridges and occupy as much as thirty-six cubic feet of space honeycombing the rock in various directions. The debris is carried up by the workers and dumped outside and around the “gate” of the formicary which is vault shaped. From the dome of this are suspended hundreds of the living “honey-jars,” richly amber coloured globes with yellow trunks and legs showing beneath the distended abdomens, clinging to the roof, which has been left rough to enable a grip whereby to hang, and whence they relax only when death supervenes.

These are the workers and honey containers of the formicary and represent three forms, the “majors,” “minors,” and “dwarfs.”

Purely nocturnal workers, the only sign of ant life around and outside the nest during the day is the incessant, tireless military patrol of sentinels on guard duty. At nightfall the colony awakens to feverish activity. The “workers” emerge through the “gate” in yellow swarms, form into a long column, and set forth to their labours: all are normal —as we know ants—no globularly distended abdomens are in evidence.

Slowly the column—gathering speed as it progresses—winds away to the nearer timberland. There does not appear to be any recognised chief, though in front marches a “dwarf-worker” shewing the route. A small and stunted oak, covered with brown and greenish galls formed by a “gall fly,” is reached, the cavalcade swarms up the trunk and soon become distributed about the branches busily engaged in collecting and swallowing the almost transparent microscopic globules of sweet white moisture exuded by the galls. The dry and hard galls are passed, those that are “bleeding” receive attention. The reason of this is easily obvious, the galls that are dry are no longer inhabited by the grub of the fly that formed them, whereas, those that are soft and green still contain the grub and exude the trituration of the inhabiting larvae. Gradually the visitors’ abdomens become filled and distended, the “repletes” returning to the “nest.”

Work goes on during the period between midnight and the false dawn. As the “repletes” reach the west entrance they are challenged by the “guards” who also levy a toll of nectar before entrance is permitted.

The “honey-pots,” as they hang from the cave roof are ministered and attended to regularly by other workers whose duty it is to massage and cleanse them. Should one of these “honey-pots” die funeral obsequies are performed; the distended abdomen is severed from the trunk, and all the parts removed to the cemetery for internment. A noticeable feature of this being that the abdomen of the dead, often still replete with the precious nectar, is never in any manner violated.

“Every Man's Duty.”

It is the duty of every citizen to stand by and support their own Railways (says the New Zealander). Without them the country could not exist; they have made New Zealand, opened the country up, and have made it what it is. There are £60,000,000 involved. We should all work strenuously to make them successful and payable. It is every man's duty —and every man should faithfully do his duty.

page 56

Interesting Railway Occupation

(From our London Correspondent.)

A tremendously wide field is covered by the railway industry, and it really would be hard to name the most interesting task in the service. This, by the way, was the topic under discussion the other day in one of the big Home railway messrooms when the writer looked in during the lunch hour; and your correspondent could not help thinking what a fine subject for a little essay competition it would form: “What I consider the most interesting job in the railway service, and why.” For myself, I have always envied the signal engineer of his task, and in this connection one of Britain's leading signal experts, Mr. F. Raynar Wilson, has just told something of the joys and responsibilities of the signal engineer's job.

Speaking before the Institution of Railway Signal Engineers, Mr. Wilson suggested a four years’ practical course of training for the prospective signal engineer. This would be divided between shop, field and office experience. In the shop training, there would be three months in the machine shop, two months in the turning shop, one month in the foundry, eight months in the fitting shop, and four months in the test room, a total of eighteen months. The field work recommended included two months with the heavy gang, two months with the mechanical fitters, four months with the wiremen, two months with the testing electricians, and two months on maintenance operations, making a total of twelve months. Eighteen months would be occupied in the office. For three months the pupil would be engaged on general tracing. Three months on interlocking charts would follow, and then six months on circuit design. For three months he would be concerned with signalling schemes and their development, and for three months on estimates. This, undoubtedly would form a very fine practical course of training for the would-be signal engineer already blessed with a good general education, some knowledge of electricity and mathematics, and—above all—a genuine desire to make good.

Whatever you build in concrete—be it home, path or government undertaking—use Milburn Portland Cement and support this great New Zealand industry that helps support you, as an integral part of the Railway Department, to the extent of over £30,000 annually.