The Life of the Spider 



rinth Spider knows nothing of the diversions 

 of the table; she flings the drained remnants 

 out of her web, without chewing them. 

 Although it lasts long, the meal is eaten in 

 perfect safety. From the first bite, the Locust 

 becomes a lifeless thing; the Spider's poison 

 has settled him. 



The labyrinth is greatly inferior, as a work 

 of art, to that advanced geometrical con- 

 trivance, the Garden Spider's net; and, in spite 

 of its ingenuity, it does not give a favourable 

 notion of its constructor. It is hardly more 

 than a shapeless scaffolding, run up anyhow. 

 And yet, like the others, the builder of this 

 slovenly edifice must have her own principles 

 of beauty and accuracy. As it is, the prettily- 

 latticed mouth of the crater makes us suspect 

 this; the nest, the mother's usual masterpiece, 

 will prove it to the full. 



When laying-time is at hand, the Spider 

 changes her residence; she abandons her web 

 in excellent condition; she does not return to 

 it. Whoso will can take possession of the 

 house. The hour has come to found the 

 family-establishment. But where? The 

 Spider knows right well; I am in the dark. 

 Mornings are spent in fruitless searches. In 



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