The Burrow 91 



choly of a cellar : my solitude is gay with light 

 and verdure ; I attend, whenever I please, the 

 fields' high festival, the Thrushes' concert, the 

 Crickets' symphony ; and yet my friendly 

 commerce with the Spider is marked by an 

 even greater devotion than the young type- 

 setter's. I admit her to the intimacy of my 

 study, I make room for her among my books, 

 I set her in the sun on my window-ledge, I visit 

 her assiduously at her home, in the country. 

 The object of our relations is not to create a 

 means of escape from the petty worries of life, 

 pin-pricks whereof I have my share like other 

 men, a very large share, indeed ; I propose to 

 submit to the Spider a host of questions whereto, 

 at times, she condescends to reply. 



To what fair problems does not the habit of 

 frequenting her give rise ! To set them forth 

 worthily, the marvellous art which the little 

 printer was to acquire were not too much. One 

 needs the pen of a Michelet ; and I have but a 

 rough, blunt pencil. Let us try, nevertheless : 

 even when poorly clad, truth is still beautiful. 



I will therefore once more take up the story 

 of the Spider's instinct, a story of which the 



