LIFE AMONGST THE SPIDERS. 119 



it some time ago. A boy removed a small spider to 

 place it in the centre of a big spider's web which, was 

 hung among foliage, and distant some feet from the 

 ground. The larger animal soon rushed from its hiding- 

 place under a leaf to attack the intruder, who ran up one 

 of the ascending lines by which the web was secured. 

 The big insect gained rapidly upon its desired prey ; but 

 the smaller creature, when barely an inch in advance of 

 its pursuer, cut the line behind itself, so that the bigger 

 one fell to the ground, affording time and opportunity 

 for an escape along the ascending rope of the web, thus 

 indicating that a spider's instinct may almost, if not quite, 

 equal what we call reason. 



One of my entomological friends, who knows how to 

 make the best use of his eyes, once told me of a hunt- 

 ing spider, living in the earth, in a solitary cell, having 

 no web like our garden spider, that was accustomed to 

 weave a net over the door of its house when it went out 

 searching for flies, so that its meal might be ready on 

 its return in case its search had been in vain elsewhere. 



That prince of entomologists, Kirby, tells us that 

 one day he placed a spider on a tall stick set up in a 

 vessel of water. It dropped from the top of the stick, not 

 by a single but by two separate threads, distant only one- 

 twelfth of an inch from each other, guided, as usual, by 

 its hind feet. When it reached theVater it stopped short, 

 finding it was in danger of its life; then it broke off one 

 of the threads close to the spinneret, which, still adhering 

 to the top of the stick, floated in the air, and was so light 

 as to be carried by the lightest breath: at length its 

 glutinous nature caused its adherence to some distant 

 object, which the creature discovering, climbed up the 

 stick, tugged at the extended thread, and, when it had 

 satisfied itself of its sufficiency of strength, it walked 



