The Life of the Spider 



with the unconcern displayed by the majority. 

 I find some who lay their eggs in an open 

 burrow; I come upon some who weave their 

 cocoon and cram it with eggs in the open air, 

 before they even own a residence. In short, 

 I do not succeed in fathoming the reasons 

 that cause the burrow to be closed, no matter 

 what the weather, hot or cold, wet or dry. 



The fact remains that the lid is broken and 

 repaired repeatedly, sometimes on the same 

 day. In spite of the earthy casing, the silk 

 woof gives it the requisite pliancy to cleave 

 when pushed by the anchorite and to rip open 

 without falling into ruins. Swept back to the 

 circumference of the mouth and increased by 

 the wreckage of further ceilings, it becomes 

 a parapet, which the Lycosa raises by degrees 

 in her long moments of leisure. The bastion 

 which surmounts the burrow, therefore, takes 

 its origin from the temporary lid. The tur- 

 ret derives from the split ceiling. 



What is the purpose of this turret? My 

 pans will tell us that. An enthusiastic votary 

 of the chase, so long as she is not permanently 

 fixed, the Lycosa, once she has set up house, 

 prefers to lie in ambush and wait for the 

 quarry. Every day, when the heat is great- 

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