g-dish, on the level of the table, they float
slowly upwards and, for the most part, reach the ceiling. The emigrants'
lines should rise in the same way and even better.

The thing is done: with the aid of nothing that is visible to the three
of us looking on, a Spider makes her ascent. She ambles with her eight
legs through the air; she mounts, gently swaying. The others, in ever-
increasing numbers, follow, sometimes by different roads, sometimes by
the same road. Any one who did not possess the secret would stand amazed
at this magic ascent without a ladder. In a few minutes, most of them
are up, clinging to the ceiling.

Not all of them reach it. I see some who, on attaining a certain height,
cease to go up and even lose ground, although moving their legs forward
with all the nimbleness of which they are capable. The more they
struggle upwards, the faster they come down. This drifting, which
neutralizes the distance covered and even converts it into a
retrogression, is easily explained.

The thread has not reached the platform; it floats, it is fixed only at
the lower end. As long as it is of a fair length, it is able, although
moving, to bear the minute animal's weight. But, as the Spider climbs,
the float becomes shorter in proportion; and the time comes when a
balance is struck between the ascensional force of the thread and the
weight carried. Then the beastie remains stationary, although continuing
to climb.

Presently, the weight becomes too much for the shorter and shorter float;
and the Spider slips down, in spite of her persistent, forward striving.
She is at last brought back to the branch by the falling threads. Here,
the ascent is soon renewed, either on a fresh thread, if the supply of
silk be not yet exhausted, or on a strange thread, the work, of those who
have gone before.

As a rule, the ceiling is reached. It is twelve feet high. The little
Spider is able, therefore, as the first product of her spinning-mill,
before taking any refreshment, to obtain a line fully twelve feet in
length. And all this, the rope-maker and her rope, was contained in the
egg, a particle of no size at all. To what a degree of fineness can the
silky matter be wrought wherewith the young Spider is provided! Our
manufacturers are able to turn out platinum-wire that can only be seen
when it is made red-hot. With much simpler means, the Spiderling draws
from her wire-mill threads so delicate that, even th