However, there is a Theseus for every monster. 

 A spider was one day spinning her web in an 

 outer angle of the veranda, laying the first strands, 

 the scaffolding. Attaching one point she swung 

 out on her line and fixed a second, aided by the 

 breeze. Without the wind she perhaps could not 

 have erefted her scaffolding in that place. The 

 morning sunlight caught these first threads, 

 stretched from post to beam, and they gleamed 

 like silver or spun glass. At length a wide space 

 was to be bridged and she swung free at the end 

 of a long strand. The breeze carried her to and 

 fro, far out from under the roof, so that she 

 remained suspended in mid-air. 



But other eyes were watching her at her work. 

 As she swung thus, self-possessed and at ease, sud- 

 denly a mud-dauber pounced upon her. The silver 

 strand parted in the sunlight, and the spider was 

 carried to the beam above, where the wasp appar- 

 ently stung her several times. A moment after 

 she rose in air holding the large globular spider, 

 now paralyzed and inert, and sailed away over the 

 tree-tops in the direction of her nest. The viftim 

 was to be immured in a sarcophagus of mud 

 together with the egg of the wasp. When the 



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