The Garden Spiders: My Neighbour 



to patch her work, as a thrifty housewife 

 darns her linen? That is the question. 



To mend severed meshes, to replace broken 

 threads, to adjust the new to the old, in 

 short, to restore the original order by assem- 

 bling the wreckage would be a far-reaching 

 feat of prowess, a very fine proof of gleams 

 of intelligence, capable of performing ra- 

 tional calculations. Our menders excel in this 

 class of work. They have as their guide their 

 sense, which measures the holes, cuts the new 

 piece to size and fits it into its proper place. 

 Does the Spider possess the counterpart of this 

 habit of clear thinking? 



People declare as much, without, ap- 

 parently, looking into the matter very closely. 

 They seem able to dispense with the con- 

 scientious observer's scruples, when inflating 

 their bladder of theory. They go straight 

 ahead; and that is enough. As for ourselves, 

 less greatly daring, we will first enquire; we 

 will see by experiment if the Spider really 

 knows how to repair her work. 



The Angular Epeira, that near neighbour 

 who has already supplied me with so many 

 documents, has just finished her web, at nine 

 o'clock in the evening. It is a splendid night, 



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