lgo THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT 



cautions, grips her with her legs, tries to subdue her and 

 then digs her fangs into the Dragon-fly's back. The bite 

 is prolonged in such a way as to astonish me. This 

 is not the perfunctory kiss with which I am already 

 familiar; it is a deep, determined wound. After strik- 

 ing her blow, the Spider retires to a certain distance and 

 waits for her poison to take effect. 



I at once remove the Dragon-fly. She is dead, really 

 and truly dead. Laid upon my table and left alone 

 for twenty-four hours, she makes not the slightest 

 movement. A prick of which my lens cannot see the 

 marks, so sharp-pointed are the Epeira's weapons, was 

 enough, with a little insistence, to kill the powerful 

 animal. Proportionately, the Rattlesnake, the Horned 

 Viper, the Trigonocephalus and other ill-famed serpents 

 produce less paralyzing effects upon their victims. 



And these Epeirae, so terrible to insects, I am able to 

 handle without any fear. My skin does not suit them. 

 If I persuaded them to bite me, what would happen to 

 me? Hardly anything. We have more cause to dread 

 the sting of a nettle than the dagger which is fatal to 

 Dragon-flies. The same virus acts differently upon this 

 organism and that, is formidable here and quite mild 

 there. What kills the insect may easily be harmless to 

 us. Let us not, however, generalize too far. The Nar- 

 bonne Lycosa, that other enthusiastic insect-huntress, 

 would make us pay dearly if we attempted to take liberties 

 with her. 



It is not uninteresting to watch the Epeira at dinner. 

 I light upon one, the Banded Epeira, at the moment, 



