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The following distinctions are the most obvious: the krangga, or great red ant, about three-fourths of an inch long, bites severely, and usually leaves its head, as a bee its sting, in the wound; it is found mostly on trees and bushes, and forms its nest by fastening together, with a glutinous matter, a collection of the leaves of a branch, as they grow; the common red ant; the minute red ant; the large black ant, not equal in size to the krangga, but with a head of disproportioned bulk; the common black ant; and the minute black ant: they also differ from each other in a circumstance which I believe has not been attended to; and that is the sensation with which they affect the taste when put into the mouth, as frequently happens unintentionally: some are hot and acrid, some bitter, and some sour.
He could not help sympathizing with him. And there was something to be said for his point of view. If Mrs. Haxton had given the true version of the finding of the papyrus, the Austrian's methods were comprehensible. Seldom has poverty been tempted by a vision of such enormous wealth. "May I make a suggestion, sir?" he asked, seeing that no one was willing to resume a somewhat acrid conversation.
He glanced round at the other faces floating towards him through tobacco smoke this acrid cigar smoke he remembered so well: how keen they were, how strong, placid, touched with the nobility of great aims and unselfish purposes. At one or two he looked particularly. He hardly knew why. They rather fascinated him.
The father's voice uttered the name of Aurelia, and, putting aside the curtains that had concealed her, she stood before him. A woman still young, and of bearing which became her birth; a woman who would have had much grace, much charm, but for the passion which, turned to vehement self-will, had made her blood acrid.
All that was not worth having of admiration then has soured into detraction now. It is of no more significance, acrid, than it was, sweet. What the herding of opinion gave yesterday it is able to take away to-day, that and no more.
It gave her a headache to climb down the four flights of stairs from their flat. The acrid dust of the city streets stung her eyes, the dissonant grumble of a million hurrying noises dizzied her, and she would stand on a street-corner for five minutes before daring to cross. When Father told her that all the buying was done, and awaiting her approval, she gasped.
In June and July, they prowl upon the surface of the ground, generally at night, but they have been seen by day, and this is the time in which they indulge in fleshy food, for then they catch small birds, mice, frogs, lizards, and snails; but although when in confinement one was known to eat a toad, they generally refuse these reptiles, probably from the acrid humour which exudes from their skin.
As she awoke and looked up on Christmas morning early, and saw the frosted panes and the snow lying like wool on the cross-bars, and heard the Christmas bells peal out in the listening air; as she came downstairs and the old pleasant acrid smell of the evergreens met her, and she saw the red berries over each picture, and the red heart of the wood-fire; nay, as she knelt at the chancel rails, and tried in her heart to adore the rosy Child in the manger, and received the sacred symbols of His Flesh and Blood, and entreated Him to remember His loving-kindness that brought Him down from heaven yet the whole was far less real, less intimate to her, than the sound of Hubert's voice as he had said good-bye two months ago; less real than one of those darting pangs of thought that fell on her heart all day like a shower of arrows.
Of course, at this early season, the fruit was not ripe upon it; but Lucien knew the fruit well. When ripe it resembles very much a red cherry, or, still more, a cranberry, having both the appearance and acrid taste of the latter. Indeed, it is sometimes used as a substitute for cranberries in the making of pies and tarts; and in many parts it is called the "bush cranberry."
"That evening is as clear in my memory as though it were yesterday the dim light of our one candle, with the acrid smell of the wick that we had forgotten to snuff, the shadows in the corners of the 'lang, laigh, mirk chamber, perishing cauld, the driving rain on the roof close above our heads, and the gusts of wind that shook our windows.
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