nwhile consider the isolated Lycosae. They do not touch up
the dwelling which I have moulded for them with a bit of reed; at most,
now and again, perhaps with the object of forming a lounge or bedroom
at the bottom, they fling out a few loads of rubbish. But all, little
by little, build the kerb that is to edge the mouth.

I have given them plenty of first-rate materials, far superior to those
which they use when left to their own resources. These consist, first,
for the foundations, of little smooth stones, some of which are as
large as an almond. With this road-metal are mingled short strips of
raphia, or palm-fibre, flexible ribbons, easily bent. These stand for
the Spider's usual basket-work, consisting of slender stalks and dry
blades of grass. Lastly, by way of an unprecedented treasure, never yet
employed by a Lycosa, I place at my captives' disposal some thick
threads of wool, cut into inch lengths.

As I wish, at the same time, to find out whether my animals, with the
magnificent lenses of their eyes, are able to distinguish colours and
prefer one colour to another, I mix up bits of wool of different hues:
there are red, green, white, and yellow pieces. If the Spider have any
preference, she can choose where she pleases.

The Lycosa always works at night, a regrettable circumstance, which
does not allow me to follow the worker's methods. I see the result; and
that is all. Were I to visit the building-yard by the light of a
lantern, I should be no wiser. The Spider, who is very shy, would at
once dive into her lair; and I should have lost my sleep for nothing.
Furthermore, she is not a very diligent labourer; she likes to take her
time. Two or three bits of wool or raphia placed in position represent
a whole night's work. And to this slowness we must add long spells of
utter idleness.

Two months pass; and the result of my liberality surpasses my
expectations. Possessing more windfalls than they know what to do with,
all picked up in their immediate neighbourhood, my Lycosae have built
themselves donjon-keeps the like of which their race has not yet known.
Around the orifice, on a slightly sloping bank, small, flat, smooth
stones have been laid to form a broken, flagged pavement. The larger
stones, which are Cyclopean blocks compared with the size of the animal
that has shifted them, are employed as abundantly as the others.

On this rockwork stands the donjon. It is an interlacing of raphia and
bits of woo