re are more of the sham pills of cork, these are the
most often seized by the Spider.

This obtuseness baffles me. Can the animal be deceived by the soft
contact of the cork? I replace the cork balls by pellets of cotton or
paper, kept in their round shape with a few bands of thread. Both are
very readily accepted instead of the real bag that has been removed.

Can the illusion be due to the colouring, which is light in the cork
and not unlike the tint of the silk globe when soiled with a little
earth, while it is white in the paper and the cotton, when it is
identical with that of the original pill? I give the Lycosa, in
exchange for her work, a pellet of silk thread, chosen of a fine red,
the brightest of all colours. The uncommon pill is as readily accepted
and as jealously guarded as the others.

THE FAMILY.

For three weeks and more the Lycosa trails the bag of eggs hanging to
her spinnerets. The reader will remember the experiments described in
the preceding section, particularly those with the cork ball and the
thread pellet which the Spider so foolishly accepts in exchange for the
real pill. Well, this exceedingly dull-witted mother, satisfied with
aught that knocks against her heels, is about to make us wonder at her
devotion.

Whether she come up from her shaft to lean upon the kerb and bask in
the sun, whether she suddenly retire underground in the face of danger,
or whether she be roaming the country before settling down, never does
she let go her precious bag, that very cumbrous burden in walking,
climbing or leaping. If, by some accident, it become detached from the
fastening to which it is hung, she flings herself madly on her treasure
and lovingly embraces it, ready to bite whoso would take it from her. I
myself am sometimes the thief. I then hear the points of the
poison-fangs grinding against the steel of my pincers, which tug in one
direction while the Lycosa tugs in the other. But let us leave the
animal alone: with a quick touch of the spinnerets, the pill is
restored to its place; and the Spider strides off, still menacing.

Towards the end of summer, all the householders, old or young, whether
in captivity on the window-sill or at liberty in the paths of the
enclosure, supply me daily with the following improving sight. In the
morning, as soon as the sun is hot and beats upon their burrow, the
anchorites come up from the bottom with their bag and station
themselves at the opening. Long sies