The Life of the Spider 



a few moments of bliss, the prelude to cessa- 

 tion of thought and its train of worries; and 

 those moments are among the sweetest in our 

 lives. The Clotho seems to know similar 

 moments and to make the most of them. 



If I push open the door of the cabin, in- 

 variably I find the Spider lying motionless, as 

 though in endless meditation. It needs the 

 teasing of a straw to rouse her from her 

 apathy. It needs the prick of hunger to bring 

 her out of doors; and, as she is extremely 

 temperate, her appearances outside are few 

 and far between. During three years of 

 assiduous observation, in the privacy of my 

 study, I have not once seen her explore the 

 domain of the wire cage by day. Not until 

 a late hour at night does she venture forth in 

 quest of victuals; and it is hardly feasible to 

 follow her on her excursions. 



Patience once enabled me to find her, at ten 

 o'clock in the evening, taking the air on the 

 flat roof of her house, where she was doubt- 

 less waiting for the game to pass. Startled 

 by the light of my candle, the lover of dark- 

 ness at once returned indoors, refusing to 

 reveal any of her secrets. Only, next day, 

 there was one more corpse hanging from the 

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