sorder.

We might discover an interesting subject of research in the type adopted
by each species when the work is accomplished without hindrances. The
Banded Epeira weaves the wallet of her eggs in the open, on a slim branch
that does not get in her way; and her work is a superbly artistic jar.
The Silky Epeira also has all the elbow-room she needs; and her
paraboloid is not without elegance. Can the Labyrinth Spider, that other
spinstress of accomplished merit, be ignorant of the precepts of beauty
when the time comes for her to weave a tent for her offspring? As yet,
what I have seen of her work is but an unsightly bundle. Is that all she
can do?

I look for better things if circumstances favour her. Toiling in the
midst of a dense thicket, among a tangle of dead leaves and twigs, she
may well produce a very inaccurate piece of work; but compel her to
labour when free from all impediment: she will then--I am convinced of it
beforehand--apply her talents without constraint and show herself an
adept in the building of graceful nests.

As laying-time approaches, towards the middle of August, I instal half-a-
dozen Labyrinth Spiders in large wire-gauze cages, each standing in an
earthen pan filled with sand. A sprig of thyme, planted in the centre,
will furnish supports for the structure, together with the trellis-work
of the top and sides. There is no other furniture, no dead leaves, which
would spoil the shape of the nest if the mother were minded to employ
them as a covering. By way of provision, Locusts, every day. They are
readily accepted, provided they be tender and not too large.

The experiment works perfectly. August is hardly over before I am in
possession of six nests, magnificent in shape and of a dazzling
whiteness. The latitude of the workshop has enabled the spinstress to
follow the inspiration of her instinct without serious obstacles; and the
result is a masterpiece of symmetry and elegance, if we allow for a few
angularities demanded by the suspension-points.

It is an oval of exquisite white muslin, a diaphanous abode wherein the
mother must make a long stay to watch over the brood. The size is nearly
that of a Hen's egg. The cabin is open at either end. The
front-entrance broadens into a gallery; the back-entrance tapers into a
funnel-neck. I fail to see the object of this neck. As for the opening
in front, which is wider, this is, beyond a doubt, a victualling-door. I
see the S