THE MARY SPIDER. 



{Epeira gemtna.') 



She was a fine large brown spider with 

 three great brown spots on her back that 

 looked like three huge eyes. She had 

 her web just outside our kitchen window 

 and the whole family took great pleasure 

 in watching her movements and in find- 

 ing out what she ate. 



Her web was a beautiful piece of work 

 almost a foot across, and evidentlv very 

 well placed, for sometimes she would 

 have as many as a dozen insects in it. 

 Among these little creatures we saw 

 moths, flies, gnats and beetles. No doubt 

 Mary rejoiced in spider fashion to see 

 so much good food all ready for the eat- 

 ing, but sometimes a bird would dart 

 down, eat the captured insects, tear the 

 web in a dozen places and only leave the 

 mistress of the establishment because 

 she was hidden away in a bit of thickly 

 w'oven web just under the window ledge. 



For days after such an attack Mary 

 would have to be very industrious, work- 

 ing on her web in the late evenins: and 

 we thought during the night, though hid- 

 ing away during the day time. Even with 

 ordinary luck th^'-'^ was a great deal of 

 work for her in keeping the web mended 

 and cleaned. "A spider has a hard work- 

 ing time," the little girl of the household 

 decided. 



It was the little girl who gave her the 

 name of Mary, and soon every one called 

 her the Mary spider. 



In the fall she became sluggish and 

 at last gave up housekeeping entirely, 



and her web broke loose from its moor- 

 ings and flapped about in the breezes and 

 at last was blown away. 



We watched Mary in her retreat under 

 the window ledge and wondered how 

 long it would be before she would fall a 

 victim to the cold, but she still had an 

 important piece of work to do, and one 

 morning we found her very busy making 

 a web in one corner of the window ledge ; 

 this web was very small and closely 

 woven, and in it she placed a great num 

 ber of small white eggs, and covered the 

 whole with many layers of spiders' silk ; 

 then she went about picking up bits of 

 sticks and all sorts, of tiny trash, which 

 she stuck on the outside of her nest. 

 When finished the nest said as plainly as 

 could be : "There is nothing here ; this 

 is only a trash pile." Mary disappeared 

 soon after this. 



On the first of May I noticed that the 

 trash was moving, and a few days later 

 tiny yellow things with the egg skins 

 still attached began to drop through the 

 bottom of the nest. Such a great num- 

 ber of them ! 



"Whatever shall we do with so mary 

 of Mary's children ?" the little girl asked ; 

 "we'll never be able to tell which is 

 which." 



There must have been several thousand 

 at first, and it is curious to think that 

 by one accident or another only two or 

 three will ever reach full size. 



WiLMATTE Porter Cockrell. 



SOLITUDE. 



There is a pleasure in the pathless woods ; 



There is a rapture on the lonely shore ; 

 There is society, where none intrudes, 



By the deep sea, and music in its roar ; 

 I love not man the less, but Nature more. 



From these our interviews, in which I steal 

 From all I may be, or have been before, 



To mingle with the universe, and feel 



What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 



— Lord Byron. 



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