ed at
the same instant by the spinnerets, keeps the Epeira hanging, swinging in
space. When calm is restored, she packs her cord and climbs up again.
The heavy paunch and the hind-legs are now bound. The flow slackens, the
silk comes only in thin sheets. Fortunately, the business is done. The
prey is invisible under the thick shroud.

The Spider retires without giving a bite. To master the terrible quarry,
she has spent the whole reserves of her spinning-mill, enough to weave
many good-sized webs. With this heap of shackles, further precautions
are superfluous.

After a short rest in the centre of the net, she comes down to dinner.
Slight incisions are made in different parts of the prize, now here, now
there; and the Spider puts her mouth to each and sucks the blood of her
prey. The meal is long protracted, so rich is the dish. For ten hours,
I watch the insatiable glutton, who changes her point of attack as each
wound sucked dries up. Night comes and robs me of the finish of the
unbridled debauch. Next morning, the drained Mantis lies upon the
ground. The Ants are eagerly devouring the remains.

The eminent talents of the Epeirae are displayed to even better purpose
in the industrial business of motherhood than in the art of the chase.
The silk bag, the nest, in which the Banded Epeira houses her eggs, is a
much greater marvel than the bird's nest. In shape, it is an inverted
balloon, nearly the size of a Pigeon's egg. The top tapers like a pear
and is cut short and crowned with a scalloped rim, the corners of which
are lengthened by means of moorings that fasten the object to the
adjoining twigs. The whole, a graceful ovoid, hangs straight down, amid
a few threads that steady it.

The top is hollowed into a crater closed with a silky padding. Every
other part is contained in the general wrapper, formed of thick, compact
white satin, difficult to break and impervious to moisture. Brown and
even black silk, laid out in abroad ribbons, in spindle-shaped patterns,
in fanciful meridian waves, adorns the upper portion of the exterior. The
part played by this fabric is self-evident: it is a waterproof cover
which neither dew nor rain can penetrate.

Exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather, among the dead grasses,
close to the ground, the Epeira's nest has also to protect its contents
from the winter cold. Let us cut the wrapper with our scissors.
Underneath, we find a thick layer of reddish-bro