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 manœuvre, 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

THE CARDINAL-SPIDER,

a large and hideous species, found very generally in the palace of Hampton Court. They are called there 'cardinals,' having, it is supposed, been first seen in Cardinal Wolsey's Hall. They are fully an inch in length, according to Mr Jesse's description, and many of them of the thickness of a finger. Their legs are about two inches long, and their body covered with thick hair. They feed chiefly on moths, as appears from the wings of these insects being found in great abundance under and amongst their webs. In running across the carpet in an evening, with the shade cast from their large bodies by the light of the lamp or candle, they have been mistaken for mice, and have occasioned no little alarm to some of the more nervous inhabitants of the palace. This spider is considered a curiosity, and Hampton Court is the only place in which Mr Jesse has met with it.

One cannot read the preceding account without calling to mind the gigantic spider found in the church of St Eustace, at Paris, and which seems to have belonged to the same species. It is told that the sexton of this church was surprised at very often discovering a certain lamp extinguished in the morning, notwithstanding it had been duly replenished with oil the preceding evening. Curious to learn the cause of this mysterious circumstance, he kept watch several evenings, and was at last gratified by the discovery. During the night he observed a spider, of enormous dimensions, come down the chain by which the lamp was suspended, drink up the oil, and, when gorged to satiety, slowly retrace its steps to a recess in the fretwork above. A similar spider is said to have been found, in 1751, in the cathedral church of Milan. It was observed to feed also on oil. When killed, it was sent to the Imperial Museum at Vienna.

THE GARDEN-SPIDER.

The garden-spider (Epeira diadema) is one of the most interesting of the family, both as regards the beauty of its form and that of the web, or rather net, which it weaves. It is the circular net of this species which we so often see glittering among the branches of shrubs and trees, formed with as much art and regularity as the figures which adorn the finest lacework. The manner in which this net is suspended and stayed on every side displays even greater ingenuity than is to be found in the web of the house-spider. When desirous of forming a net, the epeira fixes one end of her thread to the place where she is seated, and then elevating her spinnerets,

throws from them a until it reaches some nature it adheres.

continued jet of thread, which floats onward adjoining branch, to which by its glutinous By occasionally feeling the tightness of the

thread, the spider knows when it has fastened, and then she walks backward and forward over it, each time strengthening it by an additional strand. In this way she lays several suspension chains, each properly stayed and tightened, and then proceeds to weave such a network as is shewn in the accompanying figure. We have admitted the ingenuity of the garden-spider in the extension and structure of her net, but can scarcely receive what is stated by Professor Weber of Leipsic in reference to one which he witnessed constructing its meshes between two trees. The three principal points to which it was attached formed, as usual, an equilateral triangle. The two upper threads were fixed to the trunks of the trees; but not finding a point to fix the lower upon, the spider suspended from its extremity a little pebble by way of counterpoise !-the pebble being heavier than the insect, kept the web perfectly extended.

Epeira diadema.

When on the watch for her prey, the epeira sometimes takes her stand motionless in the centre, but more frequently under some leaf, or in some adjoining crevice, to which she has several leading lines directed. She seizes her victim much in the same manner as the house-spider, but is more careful, if possible, of her net. We once discovered a very large net suspended in front of a summerhouse, which was trellised with a rose-bush: the spider was sheltered in a crevice, but the web was exposed and free. Upon throwing a large lively fly on the net, the lurker was instantly out, threw round the buzzing wings of his game a few coils of gossamer, and then seized him, and struck the fatal wound. By struggling, the fly had entangled itself pretty largely in the net, so that it could not be dragged to the den without rending the net from the centre to the circumference. The spider perceiving this dilemma, cut the surrounding meshes, and the fly fell-not to the ground, however; for a strong thread had been provided, and it merely dangled a few inches under the net. The spider then hurried to the mouth of its den, and drew up the fly without difficulty or impediment. Could human reason have done more? This spider we watched for three successive weeks in the same den, and often supplied it with food. A dead fly was apparently no treat; but we have seen it seize five live ones in succession, and drag them to its den, obviously with the