MY SPIDER. 513 



MY SPIDEE. 



By W. H. T. WINTER. 



A SPIDER, sitting placidly on a hat-peg, awakened in me a vague 

 enthusiasm for natural history ; so I captured him, and put him 

 in a bottle. He was lean and gaunt, and had an ominous countenance. 

 The small row of eyes on the vertex of his head looked murder and 

 rapine, and the formidable jaws which he moved slowly, as if he 

 were sucking his teeth meant death to those who were his inferiors 

 in strength. He seemed to have been lately in distressed circum- 

 stances, for the light came through his very carcass, and his legs were 

 almost as weakly as the gossamer he wove. The strongest part of him 

 seemed to be the stiff hairs that covered him. They stood out inde- 

 pendently, and covered his body with such profusion that I was led to 

 call him Esau. 



The bottle most likely did not impart a generous warmth, and 

 probably the garish light of day was not pleasant to this denizen of 

 the rafters and remote corners, yet he settled himself in his new habi- 

 tation with a calmness which commanded my admiration. No fear 

 entered his breast ; he was not daunted by captivity. He did not 

 wildly seek an outlet, like most of the things we call insects. He 

 seemed to be of the school of the ascetic Brahmans, and apparently 

 regarded fate as invincible. 



"Even if I keep you in captivity," I said, "I will provide you with 

 a mansion, and you shall have an amplicity of food." After a little 

 search a wide-necked jar was obtained, and I set to work to catch 

 flies. The jar was glass, and its mouth was covered with muslin ; but 

 in case Arachnida cared not for light and ventilation, I provided him 

 with a piece of paper rolled cone-wise, and in this inner chamber he 

 could seek retirement. 



On being placed in his new abode, my friend betrayed no curiosity. 

 He merely settled himself on the piece of paper, as it had a more 

 genial feel than the transparent floor. Perhaps he watched me, but I 

 could not tell that from his expression. His face was typical of indif- 

 ference. 



I now began to make havoc among a colony of flies who had ap- 

 parently spent their lives in obtaining from the window-panes some 

 occult flavor which is not perceptible to our coarser palates. I made 

 three captives, who were passed beneath the muslin door of the jar 

 with a little sleight of hand. The appearance of these flies was my 

 next subject of observation. They each had an individuality which 

 I did not till then know that flies possessed. Their deportment, their 

 figures, their very moral tone, had a distinct stamp ; yet there was an 

 harmonious something which united characters so different. The first 

 TOL. xxi. 33 



