The Life of the Spider 



der is a wide belt of a dead black; on the 

 sides, a large white zone with four big, black 

 spots evenly distributed. The lid, surrounded 

 by snowy cilia and encircled with white at 

 the edge, swells into a black cap with a white 

 knot in the centre. Altogether, a dismal 

 burial urn, with the sudden contrast between 

 the dead black and the fleecy white. The 

 funeral pottery of the ancient Etruscans 

 would have found a magnificent model here.' 



The little bug, whose forehead is too soft, 

 covers her head, to raise the lid of the box, 

 with a mitre formed of three triangular rods, 

 which is always at the bottom of the egg at 

 the moment of delivery. Her limbs being 

 sheathed like those of a mummy, she has 

 nothing wherewith to put her tringles in 

 motion except the pulsations produced by the 

 rhythmic flow of blood in her skull and act- 

 ing after the manner of a piston. The rivets 

 of the lid gradually give way; and, as soon 

 as the insect is free, she lays aside her 

 mechanical helmet. 



Another species of bug, the Redumus per- 

 sonatus, which lives mostly in lumber-rooms, 

 where it lies hidden in the dust, has invented 



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