The Life of the Spider 



devotion can do; the special providence of 

 tiny animals will do the rest. When spring 

 comes, the youngsters will emerge from their 

 snug habitation, disperse all over the neigh- 

 hood by the expedient of the floating thread 

 and weave their first attempts at a labyrinth 

 on the tufts of thyme. 



Accurate in structure and neat in silk-work 

 though they be, the nests of the caged captives 

 do not tell us everything; we must go back to 

 what happens in the fields, with their com- 

 plicated conditions. Towards the end of 

 December, I again set out in search, aided by 

 all my youthful collaborators. We inspect the 

 stunted rosemaries along the edge of a path 

 sheltered by a rocky, wooded slope; we lift the 

 branches that spread over the ground. Our 

 zeal is rewarded with success. In a couple of 

 hours, I am the owner of some nests. 



Pitiful pieces of work are they, injured 

 beyond recognition by the assaults of the 

 weather ! It needs the eyes of faith to see in 

 these ruins the equivalent of the edifices built 

 inside my cages. Fastened to the creeping 

 branch, the unsightly bundle lies on the sand 

 heaped up by the rains. Oak-leaves, roughly 

 joined by a few threads, wrap it all round. 

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