QUEEN NEPHILA WILDERI. 



Away down in South Carolina, on a 

 small island called Folly Island, Nephila 

 Wilderi was born, and lived there as far 

 back as the year 1863 ; she was at that 

 time Queen of the Island ; how long she 

 had reigned I was not able to find out, 

 but tradition says she was a most popu- 

 lar monarch. 



Hi r home was so beautiful and attrac- 

 tive that all insects seemed to hover 

 around it, but, woe to the blue fly, and 

 his family! She was only a lady spider, 

 and these she accepted as a right deli- 

 cate morsel to be placed in her store 

 house for a winter's day. Just as men 

 love to chase the deer, so she loved to 

 chase the June bug, (commonly called 

 the figeater). She would hear his buzz 

 in the distance, and would take her stand 

 as near his track as possible, throwing 

 out her net to entangle him, and he 

 would unwarily be caught in her meshes ; 

 then she would wind around him yards 

 and yards of her silken cords, until he 

 looked like a silver ball. There he re- 

 mained a prisoner until she was ready 

 to devour him. Nephila was quite a mild 

 spider otherwise, and did not carry the 

 poisonous weapon of her inferiors. 



She was a handsome specimen, very 

 large, with a big head, snowy white, in 

 fact, she was quite out of the ordinary, 

 and looked just what she was, Queen of 

 her race. 



I am looking at her photograph while 

 I am telling you of her wonderful his- 

 tory. Queen Nephila was discovered on 

 the tenth of August, 1863, by Dr. Burt 

 G. Wilder. He was at the time serving 

 as a medical officer in the Union army, 

 during the Civil war. A great battle was 

 raging on Morris Island. Folly Island 

 is just south and is separated from it by 

 the Light House inlet, four hundred 

 yards wide. The Queen had her Island 

 well protected, as she thought, against 



the enemy, but she was the child of na- 

 ture, and knew nothing of the cruel hand 

 of man. This island projects out some 

 distance at low tide, and as the tide 

 comes in, the river and inlet meet from 

 opposite sides, then go fighting, dashing 

 over its sand banks, reaching over them 

 to the Morris Island shores and leaping 

 into the Atlantic just on the other side. 

 At this point on Folly Island, where 

 river and inlet meet, stood a lone senti- 

 nel, and it stands there to this day, ever 

 guarding his loved ones. Not a boat 

 dared pass by. So well had he arranged 

 his forts that they dared not approach 

 these ever shifting sand banks and treach- 

 erous inlets for fear of being dashed to 

 pieces and carried out to sea. At his 

 back was a large stretch of Nature's own 

 garden, thickly covered with a heavy 

 growth of scrubby trees. It was there 

 that his Queen dwelt, and he was her 

 lone guard, and when in 1863 the enemy 

 came in sight, what was one among so 

 many. They stole upon him unawares, 

 this Nature's sentinel, this grand pal- 

 metto. Man came with angry strife, 

 amid Nature's own beautiful life, with 

 no one to defend her from his cruel 

 hands. This spot was truly Nature's 

 home, alive with her beautiful shrubbery, 

 and wild flowers. The sea oats waved 

 their modest heads to the passing stran- 

 ger. Except for the cry of myriads of 

 sea birds that visit its coast and wood- 

 lands, an occasional hunter or fisherman, 

 and the dashing of the waves against its 

 shores, the Island was as still as death, 

 and was loneliness in perfection. When 

 the enemy wandered from his compan- 

 ions, and stole in upon her privacy, how 

 innocently and sweetly did she receive 

 him, her wild flowers looked up into his 

 tired face, in quiet loving sympathy; the 

 rustling of the palmetto leaves and the 



bobbing of the sea oats 



led him to 



