of victims which she has devoured. The
ancient Gael nailed the heads of his vanquished enemies to the door of
his hut. In the same way, the fierce Spider sticks the skulls of her
prey into the lid of her cave. These lumps look very well on the ogre's
roof; but we must be careful not to mistake them for warlike trophies.
The animal knows nothing of our barbarous bravado. Everything at the
threshold of the burrow is used indiscriminately: fragments of Locust,
vegetable remains and especially particles of earth. A Dragon-fly's head
baked by the sun is as good as a bit of gravel and no better.

And so, with silk and all sorts of tiny materials, the Lycosa builds a
lidded cap to the entrance of her home. I am not well acquainted with
the reasons that prompt her to barricade herself indoors, particularly as
the seclusion is only temporary and varies greatly in duration. I obtain
precise details from a tribe of Lycosae wherewith the enclosure, as will
be seen later, happens to be thronged in consequence of my investigations
into the dispersal of the family.

At the time of the tropical August heat, I see my Lycosae, now this
batch, now that, building, at the entrance to the burrow, a convex
ceiling, which is difficult to distinguish from the surrounding soil. Can
it be to protect themselves from the too-vivid light? This is doubtful;
for, a few days later, though the power of the sun remain the same, the
roof is broken open and the Spider reappears at her door, where she
revels in the torrid heat of the dog-days.

Later, when October comes, if it be rainy weather, she retires once more
under a roof, as though she were guarding herself against the damp. Let
us not be too positive of anything, however: often, when it is raining
hard, the Spider bursts her ceiling and leaves her house open to the
skies.

Perhaps the lid is only put on for serious domestic events, notably for
the laying. I do, in fact, perceive young Lycosae who shut themselves in
before they have attained the dignity of motherhood and who reappear,
some time later, with the bag containing the eggs hung to their stern.
The inference that they close the door with the object of securing
greater quiet while spinning the maternal cocoon would not be in keeping
with the unconcern displayed by the majority. I find some who lay their
eggs in an open burrow; I come upon some who weave their cocoon and cram
it with eggs in the open air, before they even own