last.' The young of some species are fed for a short while by the parent; but the majority, we believe, shift for themselves on leaving the envelope, and soon arrive at maturity.

Thrown early on their own resources, the young spiders commence a solitary life, lurking in holes and corners for the prey which may fall within their reach. Everywhere are they seen fabricating their snares-in the fields, on trees and shrubs, on the grass, and in the earth; and if we watch their proceedings, we may sometimes see them ascend into the air, where, borne by their webs as by an airballoon, they can elevate themselves to a great height. In this manner they often appear in vast numbers, and at a great distance from land. In 1811, the river Tagus was covered for more than half an hour with their floating webs; and in October 1826, Mr Blackwall found every field and hedge in his neighbourhood covered with a confused network of shining lines, thickly coating his feet and ankles as he walked across a pasture. In the autumn of 1831, we were one morning absolutely enveloped in an atmosphere of gossamer, which not only carpeted the ground, but rose to the height of thirty or forty feet, and which could only have been produced by countless myriads of the little field-spider. Mr Darwin, in his voyage round the globe, noticed thousands of the gossamer-spider on the rigging of his ship when sixty leagues from any shore; and found other species in abundance on island patches so desolate and remote as Keeling's Isle and St Paul's.

These animals, thus widely distributed, are strictly carnivorous in their habits, feeding only upon prey which they have themselves killed. When they have got an insect between their claws, either by entrapping it in their web, or by their stealthy mode of pursuit, they plunge their poisoned pincers into his body, and the bite is usually soon fatal. Sometimes, however, the insect has strength enough to resist its enemy, and to prevent the infliction of the fatal wound; and as a prolonged struggle might be very injurious to the spider, on account of the softness of its body, it generally retires from the combat, if not speedily successful. Where its prey has been entangled in its web, however, the spider still further encloses it by a thread, and then retires till the insect has exhausted its strength by ineffectual struggles, when it soon despatches its victim. Those species which ensnare their prey by webs are generally termed sedentary spiders; those that seize it by running or leaping, are distinguished as wanderers; and a third group, which, like the second, do not construct webs, but merely fashion a den in which they lie in wait, may be termed lurkers. Their habits, however, will be more fully detailed when we come to speak of particular species. Meanwhile, it may be observed that, though some of them are night or day workers indifferently, the greater number of them are on the chase during the day, when their prey is most abundantly

Such are the prominent characteristics of spiders as to their structure and organisation. We shall now consider the habits and economy of some of the more remarkable species-illustrating, when possible, by appropriate anecdote.

THE HOUSE-SPIDER.

The house-spider (Aranea domestica), though not the most abundant, is perhaps the best known of our native species-being very common in neglected houses, where it spreads its web unmolested for the capture of flies, moths, and other insects. The site of its operations is generally chosen for the double purpose of plunder and security-a fact which will account for its web being often found in retired and shady nooks, the most unlikely places for a fly to enter. The shape of the web is in a great measure determined by the nature of the spot in which it is spread; for the most part we see it of a triangular form in corners, with the den or funnel placed at the farthest angle, in which the creature lies on watch for its prey. In commencing this structure, the spider passes from side to side till it has fixed several strong threads, or chains, which serve as the basis of the web. These it doubles and redoubles, and tightens by stays, which are often carried out to some distance; indeed, no suspensionbridge was ever constructed on more correct principles of strain and tension. The framework being hung, the creature next proceeds to lay the warp and woof-we say lay, for these are not interlaced like the warp and woof of the human artist, but simply cross each other, their glutinous nature giving them sufficient adhesion. Great ingenuity is often displayed in rendering this web equally strong on all sides. Thus the strands of the outer extremity are always thicker than those upon which there is less strain; and if the wind agitates it more on one side than another, that side is sure to have additional stays thrown out to keep it steady. When the web is accidentally injured or torn during the capture of some large fly, the spider soon renews it; but there is no foundation for the story that she sweeps the dust from it by shaking it with her paws. The truth is, that when it becomes much defiled with dust, it is deserted for a new habitation.

It has been stated that the house-spider forms a funnel, or cell, at the interior angle of this web, in which it lies in wait, and into which it drags its prey, to devour it at leisure. To this cell all the rays of the web converge; so that if a line at the farthest extremity be touched, the vibration is instantaneously conveyed to the centre. A poor fly, therefore, no sooner impinges upon the net, than out the spider springs to reconnoitre the cause of the disturbance. If it be a fly or moth of ordinary dimensions, the spider bounds boldly forward, grasps it in its claws, and sends its poisoned fangs into its body; and so fatal is this operation, that a few seconds terminate

the struggle. If the game be of larger size-a gnat or boisterous blue-bottle-the wily hunter either cuts part of the meshes, to prevent the destruction of the whole, or begins to entangle the struggling captive with fresh lines, and then leaves him to exhaust himself in fruitless efforts. 'I once saw in a hot-house in Shropshire,' says Mr Darwin, 'a large female wasp caught in the irregular web of a quite small spider; and this spider, instead of cutting the web, most perseveringly continued to entangle the body, and especially the wings of its prey. The wasp at first aimed in vain repeated thrusts with its sting at its little antagonist. Pitying the wasp, after allowing it to struggle more than an hour, I killed it, and put it back into the web. The spider soon returned; and an hour afterwards, I was much surprised to find it with its jaws buried in the orifice through which the sting is protruded in the living wasp.' Once thus secured, the prey is generally dragged into the den, where its juices are sucked at leisure, and its remains piled away; for spiders are particularly careful to allow no spoils to cumber the surface of their nets.

Destructive as the house-spider is to most of the smaller insects, there are some whose defensive powers are more than a match for it. We have often dropped the common turf-ant on the web of a full-grown spider, which instantly sprang from its den to seize the intruder; but, on perceiving the nature of the game, it invariably retired, and allowed the ant to struggle through the web, or fatigue itself to death. The lightning-bug of America seems also to be more than a match for this so-called 'ruthless tyrant,' as we learn from the following memorandum in Featherstonhaugh's Journal: "Walking on the piazza of my house at Washington, I noticed that one of the lightning-bugs had become entangled in a spider's web. The spider instantly attacked him, and endeavoured to secure his wings. The bug emitted his light very rapidly, the spider alternately attacking and retreating, until at length it appeared distressed, and sustained itself upon the web with difficulty, staggering and tumbling in its last retreat from the contest, until it gained the wall, from which it frequently fell, suspended by one limb. At length it appeared to recover, and remained quiet. In the meantime the bug ceased struggling, and merely emitted its light; the web soon gave way, and it escaped.'

It is not always, however, that insects even many times larger than the spider thus happily escape. If the wily trapper has not the bodily strength, and if his coils be too slender, he will in general fall upon some device by which the prey may be enticed, as it were, to its own destruction. The following anecdote, from the Natchez Galaxy, illustrates the abilities of the house-spider in this respect, in a manner that, had not evidence of a similar nature come under our own observation, we would have been greatly inclined to discredit: 'A spider of moderate size had fortified himself within a very

formidable web in a corner of our office, where he was suffered to remain, for no other reason than his predilection for mosquitoes. His taste for variety, however, was very soon developed. We observed him one morning making very rapid preparations to attack an enormous beetle, whose peregrinations had extended into his neighbourhood. The web was made fast to two of his legs at the first onset. Mr Beetle, apparently not altogether satisfied with these attentions, bade him good-morning, and marched off, carrying his chains with him, in doing which he had well nigh demolished the fortress itself. In a few moments, however, the beetle repeated his visit. In the meantime the spider had repaired damages, and was prepared for the reception of the formidable stranger. The web was about eighteen inches from the ground; the spider precipitated himself from it, but stopped suddenly when within about two inches of the floor. As this feat was again and again repeated, we have no doubt that it was an experiment to try the strength of his cord. At length he threw himself upon the back of the beetle, attached the web to the posterior extremities, and then retreated. Mr Beetle's suspicions of the purity of the intentions of his longlegged host were now confirmed; and, apparently with no small degree of displeasure, he turned his back upon the spider, the frailty of whose web, notwithstanding his precaution, not interfering in the slightest degree with the dignity of Mr Beetle's measured tread; the spider, convinced that open attack was altogether unavailable, resorted to stratagem. With rather an eccentric manoeuvre, he fastened the attention of Mr Beetle upon himself, and then commenced a retreat up the surface of a somewhat rough wall. Whether Mr Beetle mistook this trick of the spider for politeness, under the impression that he was conducting him to his castle, or whether it was a matter of sheer curiosity that induced him to follow his betrayer, we are not able to decide; it is sufficient that the decoy was successful. Mr Spider was vastly civil to Mr Beetle; court language was used on the occasion, without doubt, until they reached a point directly over the web, when, like another Roderick Dhu, he threw off his disguise, and in a trice mounted upon the back of Mr Beetle, disengaged his feet from the wall, and they tumbled together into the web. With the rough legs of the beetle, and being unable to obtain foothold, extrication was impossible-escape hopeless; he surrendered at discretion, and on the following evening was found dead in his chains.'

If the little creature thus often gains its purpose by cunning and device, it can also accomplish much through mere resolute perseverance-a trait happily illustrated by the often-told anecdote of the Scottish monarch and the cottage-spider. While wandering on the wild hills of Carrick, in order to escape the emissaries of Edward, Robert the Bruce on one occasion passed the night under the shelter of a poor deserted cottage. Throwing himself down on a heap of

straw, he lay upon his back, with his hands placed under his head, unable to sleep, but gazing vacantly upwards at the rafters of the hut, disfigured with cobwebs. From thoughts long and dreary about the hopelessness of the enterprise in which he was engaged, and the misfortunes he had already encountered, he was roused to take interest in the efforts of a poor industrious spider, which had begun to ply its vocation with the first gray light of morning. The object of the animal was to swing itself, by its thread, from one rafter to another; but in this attempt it repeatedly failed, each time vibrating back to the point whence it had made the effort. Twelve times did the little creature try to reach the desired spot, and as many times was it unsuccessful. Not disheartened with its failure, it made the attempt once more, and lo! the rafter was gained. "The thirteenth time,' said Bruce, springing to his feet. 'I accept it as a lesson not to despond under difficulties, and shall once more venture my life in the struggle for the independence of my beloved country.' The result is well known.

A curious instinct displayed by the house-spider, and indeed by most of the family, is the simulation of stupor or death. If you touch a spider, it instantly scampers away with great rapidity; but if you hem it in so that escape seems impossible, then straightway it gathers up its limbs, and lies motionless as death. You may turn it over and over with the point of your pencil, but it will exhibit no symptoms of life; to all appearance it is as dead as the withered skeleton of the fly that hangs dangling from its net. 'In this situation,' says Mr Smellie, 'I have pierced spiders with pins, and torn them to pieces, without their discovering the smallest marks of pain. This simulation of death has been ascribed to a strong convulsion or stupor occasioned by terror; but this solution of the phenomenon is erroneous. I have repeatedly tried the experiment, and uniformly found that, if the object of terror be removed, in a few minutes the animal runs off with great celerity. Some beetles, when counterfeiting death, will suffer themselves to be gradually roasted without moving a single joint.'

Besides the common house-spider, there are other species which seem partial to the shelter of human dwellings, and may be regarded as in some measure dependent upon civilisation for their development and increase. There is a small light-gray spider with long legs, which constructs a very diminutive web, and subsists chiefly on small flies and moths. This species is of more rambling habits than the true house-spider, and appears to unite in its person the character both of trapper and hunter. Another species, seemingly a large kind of gossamer-spider, may often be seen dangling for hours together from a single thread, as if it were as much in love with swinging as the ploughboy, who thought the summit of human felicity to consist in liberty to swing on a gate all day. There is a third sort, so curious that it claims a special notice. This is