Bite of Mygale 24.7 
who lived together without it suffered in the estimation of 
their neighbours. The European ladies at Santo Domingo 
were sometimes visited by the unmarried matrons of the 
village, who were very indignant when they found that there 
were scruples about receiving them. They were so used 
to their own social observances, that they thought those 
of the Europeans unwarrantable prudery. 
Before turning out the mules, Rito got some limes and 
squeezed the juice out upon their feet, just above the hoof. 
He did this to prevent them from being bitten by the 
tarantula spider, a species of Mygale that makes its nest 
in the ground, and is said to abound in this locality. Many 
of the mules are bitten in the feet on the savannahs by some 
venomous animal. The animal bitten immediately goes 
lame, and cannot be cured in less than six months, as the 
hoof comes off, and has to be renewed. The natives say 
that the Mygale is the aggressor; that it gets on the mule’s 
foot to bite off the hairs to line its nest with, and that if not 
disturbed it does not injure the mule, but that if the latter 
tries to dislodge it, it bites immediately. I do not know 
whether this story be true or not, and I had no opportunity 
of examining a Mygale’s nest to see if it was lined with hairs, 
but Professor Westwood informs me that all that he knows 
are lined with fine silk. Possibly the mules, when rambling 
about, step on the spider, and are then bitten by it. Velas- 
quez told me that when he was a boy he and other children 
used to amuse themselves by pulling the Mygale out of its 
hole, which is about a foot deep in the ground. To get it 
out they fastened a small ball of soft wax to a piece of string, 
and lowered it down the hole, jerking it up and down until 
the spider got exasperated so far as to bury its formidable 
jaws in the wax, when it could be drawn to the surface. 
We had part of the kitchen to sleep in, and were so tired, 
and getting so accustomed to sleep anywhere, that we had 
a good night’s rest, rose early next morning, and were soon 
on the road again, leaving Rito to bring on the lamed horse. 
We had a good view of the rock of San Lorenzo, a high cliff 
capping a hill, and resembling the rocks of Cuapo and Pena 
Blanca, but with less perpendicular sides. About this part, 
which lay high, as well as where we stayed the night before, 
there had been rains; but on the lowlands lying between 
