124 T^^^ Life of the Spider 



about her Chicks, looks for the strays, calls 

 them, gathers them together. The Lycosa 

 knows not these maternal alarms. Impassively, 

 she leaves those who drop off to manage their 

 own difficulty, which they do with wonderful 

 quickness. Commend me to those youngsters for 

 getting up without whining, dusting themselves 

 and resuming their seat in the saddle ! The 

 unhorsed ones promptly find a leg of the 

 mother, the usual climbing-pole ; they swarm 

 up it as fast as they can and recover their 

 places on the bearer's back. The living bark 

 of animals is reconstructed in the twinkling of 

 an eye. 



To speak here of mother-love were, I think, 

 extravagant. The Lycosa's affection for her 

 offspring hardly surpasses that of the plant, 

 which is unacquainted with any tender feeling 

 and nevertheless bestows the nicest and most 

 delicate care upon its seeds. The animal, in 

 many cases, knows no other sense of mother- 

 hood. What cares the Lycosa for her brood ! 

 She accepts another's as readily as her own ; 

 she is satisfied so long as her back is burdened 

 with a swarming crowd, whether it issue from 



