SPIBEIiS AND THEIR WAYS. 377 



make the spiral part. It is fascinating to watch her, as she crosses 

 each spoke, stop and pat down the silk once or twice, then pull it 

 to see if it is well secured before passing to the next one. When 

 the web is finished, she makes a zigzag ladder of white silk, run- 

 ning from the bottom outer edge to the center. When she hangs 

 in the middle of her web, as she does much of the time, the lad- 

 der helps to conceal her. The web is made of two kinds of silk 

 one smooth, the other covered with an adhesive liquid. When 

 the insects are caught, their legs and wings are soon covered with 

 the sticky juice, so that it is impossible for them to escape. The 

 spider, knowing it would not be convenient to become entangled 

 herself, spins one long, smooth thread from the center to the out- 

 side, which she uses m traveling to and fro. 



The common house spider is wonderfully sagacious. Once in 

 a while a large insect is caught in her web. She wants to take it 

 up to her inner retreat to devour, and it is too heavy for her to 

 carry. What is she to do ? First she bites its leg, injecting some 

 of her poison, which stupefies it. Next she throws some addi- 

 tional threads about it and ascends to the top, pulling the thread 

 as hard as she can. When she has rested for a little time, she 

 winds more threads about her victim and pulls again, each time 

 attaching the threads at the top. In this way she finally succeeds 

 in hoisting her feast into her house, though the process may last 

 several days. 



Who would think that our predecessors in the art of curling 

 the hair were spiders ? One species has been provided by Nature 

 with a sort of little curling comb called the calimistra. It is on 

 the hind legs and consists of two rows of parallel spines. The 

 web, which she makes of bluish- white silk, is unusually pretty, 

 as each thread is gracefully curled by drawing it between the 

 spines. 



Thoreau calls the little gossamer webs which we see spread 

 over the grass on a dewy morning the napkins of the fairies. 

 Even Chaucer, who wrote five hundred years ago, mentions them 

 as a great curiosity to the people of his time. He says : 



As sore wondren som on cause of ihonder, 

 On ebb and flood, on gossamer and on mist, 

 And on all thing, 'til that the cause is wist. 



A hundred and fifty years ago a Frenchman, M. Le Bon, made 

 some stockings, purses, and gloves from spiders' silk. The Ber- 

 muda ladies use the thread of Nephila for sewing, and Queen 

 Victoria was presented by the Empress of Brazil with a dress 

 made of spiders' silk. 



Spiders molt several times, each time appearing in a different 

 color. We should hardly expect to find very brilliant or showy 



