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The unfortunate ant that ventures too close to the margin sets the sand off rolling, and it immediately begins to struggle against falling down, but the Ant-lion throws a few shovelfuls of sand against it, and it soon comes tumbling down to the bottom of the funnel, when it is instantly seized between the sharp mandibles in waiting, which, being perforated by slender tubes, enable their blood-thirsty owner to suck out its juices.

Country children, and adults as well, manifest a deep interest in these strange beings. They call them, as has been intimated before, You-ee-ups. How the name originated, and when, I do not pretend to know, nor have I been able upon inquiry to find out from the oldest inhabitants of the regions they affect. Old men and old women in the seventies and eighties knew these insects by this name when they were children, and I have been informed that they were always so spoken of by their fathers and mothers.

Even the insects themselves are believed to know the odd name by which they are designated. So fixed is the belief in the minds of the many that, to contradict it, is sure to subject the person so rash and presumptuous to the grossest abuse from the friends of the strange little creature. They have seen him in his sandy retreat, and have called him by name, and he has never been known to decline a response. “You-ee-up, you-ee-up,” cries one, with his mouth just over the opening, and up comes the strange “crittur” as obedient as a lackey. “You-ee-down, you-ee-down,” says the same childish voice, and down he goes to his den to await, as is thought, the giving of further orders.