The Life of the Spider 



Skilful in the prompt despatch of her prey, 

 the little Crab Spider is no less well-versed 

 in the nesting art. I find her settled on a 

 privet in the enclosure. Here, in the heart 

 of a cluster of flowers, the luxurious creature 

 plaits a little pocket of white satin, shaped 

 like a wee thimble. It is the receptacle for 

 the eggs. A round, flat lid, of a felted 

 fabric, closes the mouth. 



Above this ceiling rises a dome of stretched 

 threads and faded flowerets which have 

 fallen from the cluster. This is the watcher's 

 belvedere, her conning-tower. An opening, 

 which is always free, gives access to this 

 post. 



Here the Spider remains on constant duty. 

 She has thinned greatly since she laid her 

 eggs, has almost lost her corporation. At 

 the least alarm, she saUies forth, waves a 

 threatening limb at the passing stranger and 

 invites him, with a gesture, to keep his dis- 

 tance. Having put the intruder to flight, she 

 quickly returns indoors. 



And what does she do in there, under her 



arch of withered flowers and silk? Night 



and day, she shields the precious eggs with 



her poor body spread out flat. Eating is 



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