I have installed her in large earthen pans on
the window-sills of my study and I have her daily under my eyes. Well,
it is very rarely that I happen on her outside, a few inches from her
hole, back to which she bolts at the least alarm.

We may take it then that, when not in captivity, the Lycosa does not go
far afield to gather the wherewithal to build her parapet and that she
makes shift with what she finds upon her threshold. In these
conditions, the building-stones are soon exhausted and the masonry
ceases for lack of materials.

The wish came over me to see what dimensions the circular edifice would
assume, if the Spider were given an unlimited supply. With captives to
whom I myself act as purveyor the thing is easy enough. Were it only
with a view to helping whoso may one day care to continue these
relations with the big Spider of the waste-lands, let me describe how
my subjects are housed.

A good-sized earthenware pan, some nine inches deep, is filled with a
red, clayey earth, rich in pebbles, similar, in short, to that of the
places haunted by the Lycosa. Properly moistened into a paste, the
artificial soil is heaped, layer by layer, around a central reed, of a
bore equal to that of the animal's natural burrow. When the receptacle
is filled to the top, I withdraw the reed, which leaves a yawning,
perpendicular shaft. I thus obtain the abode which shall replace that
of the fields.

To find the hermit to inhabit it is merely the matter of a walk in the
neighbourhood. When removed from her own dwelling, which is turned
topsy-turvy by my trowel, and placed in possession of the den produced
by my art, the Lycosa at once disappears into that den. She does not
come out again, seeks nothing better elsewhere. A large wire-gauze
cover rests on the soil in the pan and prevents escape.

In any case, the watch, in this respect, makes no demand upon my
diligence. The prisoner is satisfied with her new abode and manifests
no regret for her natural burrow. There is no attempt at flight on her
part. Let me not omit to add that each pan must receive not more than
one inhabitant. The Lycosa is very intolerant. To her a neighbour is
fair game, to be eaten without scruple when one has might on one's
side. Time was when, unaware of this fierce intolerance, which is more
savage still at breeding time, I saw hideous orgies perpetrated in my
overstocked cages. I shall have occasion to describe those tragedies
later.

Let us mea