180 THE HAUNTS OF LIFE 
there 1s the making of the wings and the event- 
ful emergence from the water. They cannot 
fly much at first, for they are encumbered by 
a thin veil too truly suggestive of a shroud. 
They rest rather wearily on the branches of 
the willows, and on our clothes, as we watch 
Fic. 17.—GARDEN SPIDER (EPEIRA 
DIADEMA). 
them. We see them writhe and jerk, till at 
length their last encumbrance, their “ ghost,” 
as some entomologists have called it, is thrown 
off. Then the short aerial life begins; they 
swing to and fro as in a dance; they dimple the 
