96 The Life of the Spider 



A good-sized earthenware pan, some nine 

 inches deep, is filled with a red, clayey earth, 

 rich in pebbles, similar, in short, to that of the 

 places haunted by the Lycosa. Properly 

 moistened into a paste, the artificial soil is 

 heaped, layer by layer, around a central reed, 

 of a bore equal to that of the animal's natural 

 burrow. When the receptacle is filled to the 

 top, I withdraw the reed, which leaves a yawn- 

 ing, perpendicular shaft. I thus obtain the 

 abode which shall replace that of the fields. 



To find the hermit to inhabit it is merely the 

 matter of a walk in the neighbourhood. When 

 removed from her own dwelling, which is turned 

 topsy-turvy by my trowel, and placed in pos- 

 session of the den produced by my art, the 

 Lycosa at once disappears into that den. She 

 does not come out again, seeks nothing better 

 elsewhere. A large wire-gauze cover rests on 

 the soil in the pan and prevents escape. 



In any case, the watch, in this respect, makes 

 no demands upon my diligence. The prisoner 

 is satisfied with her new abode and manifests 

 no regret for her natural burrow. There is 

 no attempt at flight on her part. Let me not 



