144 THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT 



the Cricket browses and the Wheat-ear flits from stone 

 to stone. The love of lucre has laid waste the land. 

 Because wine paid handsomely, they pulled up the forest 

 to plant the vine. Then came the Phylloxera, the vine- 

 stocks perished and the once green table-land is now no 

 more than a desolate stretch where a few tufts of hardy 

 grasses sprout among the pebbles. This waste-land is 

 the Lycosa's paradise: in an hour's time, if need were, 

 I should discover a hundred burrows within a limited 

 range. 



These dwellings are pits about a foot deep, perpen- 

 dicular at first and then bent elbow-wise. The average 

 diameter is an inch. On the edge of the hole stands a 

 kerb, formed of straw, bits and scraps of all sorts and 

 even small pebbles, the size of a hazel-nut. The whole 

 is kept in place and cemented with silk. Often, the 

 Spider confines herself to drawing together the dry blades 

 of the nearest grass, which she ties down with the straps 

 from her spinnerets, without removing the blades from 

 the stem; often, also, she rejects this scaffolding in 

 favor of a masonry constructed of small stones. The 

 nature of the kerb is decided by the nature of the mate- 

 rials within the Lycosa's reach, in the close neighborhood 

 of the building-yard. There is no selection: everything 

 meets with approval, provided that it be near at hand. 



The direction is perpendicular, in so far as obstacles, 

 frequent in a soil of this kind, permit. A bit of gravel 

 can be extracted and hoisted outside; but a flint is an 

 immovable boulder which the Spider avoids by giving a 

 bend to her gallery. If more such are met with, the 



