The Globe asserts that a young lady in France has
begun to keep ants for the purpose of selling ants' eggs to the breeders of pheasants—creatures which are said to be frantically fond of that delicacy. In order to make a successful industry of it, she has had to endure the bites of the creatures till her skin has been indurated by the process to the texture of parchment. The object of course being to get the ants' eggs, and not the ants, this enterprising lady keeps, as far as she can, only the good layers, but it must take a vast number of good layers to supply even one pheasant's table. We suppose the pheasants must thrive particularly well on ants' eggs. or else it would hardly be worth the while of their preservers to indulge their passion for these formican omelettes. But if they do thrive on delicacies, pheasants are not like men, but more fortunate. We, as a rule, do not thrive on a refined cuisine ;—gourmands, with us are not healthy, and healthy men are not gourmands.
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