THE SPIDERS 145 



residence becomes a winding cave, with stone vaults, with 

 lobbies communicating by means of sharp passages. 



This lack of plan has no attendant drawbacks, so well 

 does the owner, from long habit, know every corner and 

 story of her mansion. If any interesting buzz occur 

 overhead, the Lycosa climbs up from her rugged manor 

 with the same speed as from a vertical shaft. Perhaps 

 she even finds the windings and turnings an advantage, 

 when she has to drag into her den a prey that happens 

 to defend itself. 



As a rule, the end of the burrow widens into a side- 

 chamber, a lounge or resting-place where the Spider 

 meditates at length and is content to lead a life of quiet 

 when her belly is full. 



When she reaches maturity and is once settled, the 

 Lycosa becomes eminently domesticated. I have been 

 living in close communion with her for the last three 

 years. I have installed her in large earthen pans on the 

 window-sills of my study and I have her daily under my 

 eyes. Well, it is very rarely that I happen on her out- 

 side, a few inches from her hole, back to which she bolts 

 at the least alarm. 



We may take it then that, when not in captivity, the 

 Lycosa does not go far afield to gather the wherewithal 

 to build her parapet and that she makes shift with what 

 she finds upon her threshold. In these conditions, the 

 building-stones are soon exhausted and the masonry 

 ceases for lack of materials. 



The wish came over me to see what dimensions the 

 circular edifice would assume, if the Spider were given 



