122 The Life of the Spider 



bursting, such as we shall see later in the 

 Banded Epeira's balloon, a tough wallet which 

 opens a breach of its own accord, long after the 

 mother has ceased to exist. 



The whole family emerges from the bag 

 straightway. Then and there, the youngsters 

 climb to the mother's back. As for the empty 

 bag, now a worthless shred, it is flung out of the 

 burrow ; the Lycosa does not give it a further 

 thought. Huddled together, sometimes in two 

 or three layers, according to their number, the 

 little ones cover the whole back of the mother, 

 who, for seven or eight months to come, will 

 carry her family night and day. Nowhere can 

 we hope to see a more edifying domestic picture 

 than that of the Lycosa clothed in her young. 



From time to time, I meet a little band of 

 gipsies passing along the high-road on their 

 way to some neighbouring fair. The new-born 

 babe mewls on the mother's breast, in a ham- 

 mock formed out of a kerchief. The last- 

 weaned is carried pick-a-back ; a third toddles 

 clinging to its mother's skirts ; others follow 

 closely, the biggest in the rear, ferreting in the 

 blackberry-laden hedgerows. It is a magni- 



