The Labyrinth Spider 



favour her. Toiling in the midst of a dense 

 thicket, among a tangle of dead leaves and 

 twigs, she may well produce a very inaccurate 

 piece of work; but compel her to labour when 

 free from all impediment: she will then — I 

 am convinced of it beforehand — apply her 

 talents without constraint and show herself an 

 adept in the building of graceful nests. 



As laying-time approaches, towards the 

 middle of August, I instal half-a-dozen Laby- 

 rinth Spiders in large wire-gauze cages, each 

 standing in an earthen pan filled with sand. 

 A sprig of thyme, planted in the centre, will 

 furnish supports for the structure, together 

 with the trellis-work of the top and sides. 

 There is no other furniture, no dead leaves, 

 which would spoil the shape of the nest if the 

 mother were minded to employ them as a 

 covering. By way of provision, Locusts, every 

 day. They are readily accepted, provided 

 they be tender and not too large. 



The experiment works perfectly. August is 

 hardly over before I am in possession of six 

 nests, magnificent in shape and of a dazzling 

 whiteness. The latitude of the workshop has 

 enabled the spinstress to follow the inspiration 

 of her instinct without serious obstacles; and 



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