pider, at intervals, standing here on the look-out for the
Locust, whom she consumes outside, taking care not to soil the spotless
sanctuary with corpses.

The structure of the nest is not without a certain similarity to that of
the home occupied during the hunting-season. The passage at the back
represents the funnel-neck, that ran almost down to the ground and
afforded an outlet for flight in case of grave danger. The one in front,
expanding into a mouth kept wide open by cords stretched backwards and
forwards, recalls the yawning gulf into which the victims used to fall.
Every part of the old dwelling is repeated: even the labyrinth, though
this, it is true, is on a much smaller scale. In front of the
bell-shaped mouth is a tangle of threads wherein the passers-by are
caught. Each species, in this way, possesses a primary architectural
model which is followed as a whole, in spite of altered conditions. The
animal knows its trade thoroughly, but it does not know and will never
know aught else, being incapable of originality.

Now this palace of silk, when all is said, is nothing more than a guard-
house. Behind the soft, milky opalescence of the wall glimmers the egg-
tabernacle, with its form vaguely suggesting the star of some order of
knighthood. It is a large pocket, of a splendid dead-white, isolated on
every side by radiating pillars which keep it motionless in the centre of
the tapestry. These pillars are about ten in number and are slender in
the middle, expanding at one end into a conical capital and at the other
into a base of the same shape. They face one another and mark the
position of the vaulted corridors which allow free movement in every
direction around the central chamber. The mother walks gravely to and
fro under the arches of her cloisters, she stops first here, then there;
she makes a lengthy auscultation of the egg-wallet; she listens to all
that happens inside the satin wrapper. To disturb her would be
barbarous.

For a closer examination, let us use the dilapidated nests which we
brought from the fields. Apart from its pillars, the egg-pocket is an
inverted conoid, reminding us of the work of the Silky Epeira. Its
material is rather stout; my pincers, pulling at it, do not tear it
without difficulty. Inside the bag there is nothing but an extremely
fine, white wadding and, lastly, the eggs, numbering about a hundred and
comparatively large, for they measure a millimetre and a h