w hours, attains hardly the diameter of a
two-franc piece. It is built, however, on the same principles as the old
manor-house and consists of two thin sheets laid one above the other, the
upper one flat and forming a tester, the lower curved and pocket-shaped.
The texture is extremely delicate: the least trifle would deform it, to
the detriment of the available space, which is already much reduced and
only just sufficient for the recluse.

Well, what has the Spider done to keep the gossamer stretched, to steady
it and to make it retain its greatest capacity? Exactly what our static
treatises would advise her to do: she has ballasted her structure, she
has done her best to lower its centre of gravity. From the convex
surface of the pocket hang long chaplets of grains of sand strung
together with slender silken cords. To these sandy stalactites, which
form a bushy beard, are added a few heavy lumps hung separately and lower
down, at the end of a thread. The whole is a piece of ballast-work, an
apparatus for ensuring equilibrium and tension.

The present edifice, hastily constructed in the space of a night, is the
frail rough sketch of what the home will afterwards become. Successive
layers will be added to it; and the partition-wall will grow into a thick
blanket capable of partly retaining, by its own weight, the requisite
curve and capacity. The Spider now abandons the stalactites of sand,
which were used to keep the original pocket stretched, and confines
herself to dumping down on her abode any more or less heavy object,
mainly corpses of insects, because she need not look for these and finds
them ready to hand after each meal. They are weights, not trophies; they
take the place of materials that must otherwise be collected from a
distance and hoisted to the top. In this way, a breastwork is obtained
that strengthens and steadies the house. Additional equilibrium is often
supplied by tiny shells and other objects hanging a long way down.

What would happen if one robbed an old dwelling, long since completed, of
its outer covering? In case of such a disaster, would the Spider go back
to the sandy stalactites, as a ready means of restoring stability? This
is easily ascertained. In my hamlets under wire, I select a fair-sized
cabin. I strip the exterior, carefully removing any foreign body. The
silk reappears in its original whiteness. The tent looks magnificent,
but seems to me too limp.

This is als