CHAPTER III. 

 ARACHNE AND THE POETS. 



SPIDERS are best known by inference. Cobwebs ; ergo 

 spiders. But the insects 1 themselves are not much in 

 evidence. It is not their nature to come to the front; 

 they are of a conspiring kind. 



Yet it is very curious, considering their extraordinary 

 numbers, how comparatively seldom they are seen. A 

 light brought suddenly into a dark room will sometimes 

 betray one guiltily flat on the wall, with its legs all spread 

 out round it in the very act of sudden surprisal. In cob- 

 webbed cellars, too, there is at every turn the suspicion of 

 long legs suddenly withdrawn into grey tunnels, of shrinkings 

 away, and stealthy evanishments. But it is only the suspicion. 

 During an autumn walk they may be seen in shrubberies 

 or out in the country, basking complacently in the centre of 

 their beautiful nets that a fly ought to be able to see a mile 

 off comfortable dowager-spiders, as Wyatt says, "obvious to 

 flies." Or in summer, if you care to look in the garden, you 

 may find them everywhere (and very beautiful many of them 

 are), and you will see that most awful of little creatures, the 

 cat-spider, hunting for prey on the woodwork of your window 

 or the sunniest patches of the wall where the flies like to 

 settle. 



Laugh if you like, but in all seriousness it is very exciting 



1 I call spiders "insects" all through. P. R. 

 194 



