You have often seen a crowd of ants running to and fro in and out of their city, some turning up a bit of dung, others dragging a bean-shell, or running away with half a grain of wheat.  I make no doubt but they have architects, demagogues, senators, musicians, and philosophers amongst them.  Men, my friend, are exactly like these:  if you approve not of the comparison, recollect, if you please, the ancient Thessalian fables, and you will find that the Myrmidons, {177} a most warlike nation, sprung originally from pismires.

When I had thus seen and diverted myself with everything, I shook my wings and flew off,

     “To join the sacred senate of the skies.” {178a}

Scarce had I gone a furlong, when the Moon, in a soft female voice, cried out to me, “Menippus, will you carry something for me to Jupiter, so may your journey be prosperous?” “With all my heart,” said I, “if it is nothing very heavy.”  “Only a message,” replied she, “a small petition to him:  my patience is absolutely worn out by the philosophers, who are perpetually disputing about me, who I am, of what size, how it happens that I am sometimes round and full, at others cut in half; some say I am inhabited, others that I am only a looking-glass hanging over the sea, and a hundred conjectures of this kind; even my light, {178b} they say, is none of my own, but stolen from the Sun; thus endeavouring to set me and my brother together by the ears, not content with abusing him, and calling him a hot stone, and a mass of fire.  In the meantime, I am no stranger to what these men, who look so grave and sour all day, are doing o’ nights; but I see and say nothing, not thinking it decent to lay open their vile and abominable lives to the public; for when I catch them thieving, or practising any of their nocturnal tricks, I wrap myself up in a cloud, that I may not expose to the world a parcel of old fellows, who, in spite of their long beards, and professions of virtue, are guilty of every vice, and yet they are always railing at and abusing me.  I swear by night I have often resolved to move farther off to get out of reach of their busy tongues; and I beg you would tell Jupiter that I cannot possibly stay here any longer, unless he will destroy these naturalists, stop the mouths of the logicians, throw down the Portico, burn the Academy, and make an end of the inhabitants of Peripatus; so may I enjoy at last a little rest, which these fellows are perpetually disturbing.”  “It shall be done,” said I, and away I set out for heaven, where

     “No tracks of beasts or signs of men are found.” {179}