THE SPIDERS 159 



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 do- 

 mestic picture than that of the Lycosa clothed in her 

 young. 



From time to time I meet a little band of gipsies pass- 

 ing along the high-road on their way to some neigh- 

 boring fair. The new-born babe mewls on the mother's 

 breast, in a hammock formed out of a kerchief. The 

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

 ing to its mother's skirts; others follow closely, the 

 biggest in the rear, ferreting in the blackberry-laden 

 hedgerows. It is a magnificent spectacle of happy-go- 

 lucky fruit fulness. They go their way, penniless and 

 rejoicing. The sun is hot and the earth is fertile. 



But how this picture pales before that of the Lycosa, 

 that incomparable gipsy whose brats are numbered by the 

 hundred ! And one and all of them, from September to 

 April, without a moment's respite, find room upon the 

 patient creature's back, where they are content to lead a 

 tranquil life and to be carted about. 



The little ones are very good; none moves, none seeks 

 a quarrel with his neighbors. Clinging together, they 

 form a continuous drapery, a shaggy ulster under which 

 the mother becomes unrecognizable. Is it an animal, 

 a fluff of wool, a cluster of small seeds fastened to one 

 another? 'T is impossible to tell at the first glance. 



The equilibrium of this living blanket is not so firm 

 but that falls often occur, especially when the mother 

 climbs from indoors and comes to the threshold to let 



