a residence. In
short, I do not succeed in fathoming the reasons that cause the burrow to
be closed, no matter what the weather, hot or cold, wet or dry.

The fact remains that the lid is broken and repaired repeatedly,
sometimes on the same day. In spite of the earthy casing, the silk woof
gives it the requisite pliancy to cleave when pushed by the anchorite and
to rip open without falling into ruins. Swept back to the circumference
of the mouth and increased by the wreckage of further ceilings, it
becomes a parapet, which the Lycosa raises by degrees in her long moments
of leisure. The bastion which surmounts the burrow, therefore, takes its
origin from the temporary lid. The turret derives from the split
ceiling.

What is the purpose of this turret? My pans will tell us that. An
enthusiastic votary of the chase, so long as she is not permanently
fixed, the Lycosa, once she has set up house, prefers to lie in ambush
and wait for the quarry. Every day, when the heat is greatest, I see my
captives come up slowly from under ground and lean upon the battlements
of their woolly castle-keep. They are then really magnificent in their
stately gravity. With their swelling belly contained within the
aperture, their head outside, their glassy eyes staring, their legs
gathered for a spring, for hours and hours they wait, motionless, bathing
voluptuously in the sun.

Should a tit-bit to her liking happen to pass, forthwith the watcher
darts from her tall tower, swift as an arrow from the bow. With a dagger-
thrust in the neck, she stabs the jugular of the Locust, Dragon-fly or
other prey whereof I am the purveyor; and she as quickly scales the
donjon and retires with her capture. The performance is a wonderful
exhibition of skill and speed.

Very seldom is a quarry missed, provided that it pass at a convenient
distance, within the range of the huntress' bound. But, if the prey be
at some distance, for instance on the wire of the cage, the Lycosa takes
no notice of it. Scorning to go in pursuit, she allows it to roam at
will. She never strikes except when sure of her stroke. She achieves
this by means of her tower. Hiding behind the wall, she sees the
stranger advancing, keeps her eyes on him and suddenly pounces when he
comes within reach. These abrupt tactics make the thing a certainty.
Though he were winged and swift of flight, the unwary one who approaches
the ambush is lost.

This presumes, it is true,