CHAPTER IX.

THE SPIDER.

ATTEMPTS TO PROCURE SILKEN FILAMENTS FROM SPIDERS.

Structures of spiders--Spiders not properly insects, and why--Apparatus for spinning--Extraordinary number of spinnerules--Great number of filaments composing one thread--Réaumur and Leeuwenhoeck’s laughable estimates--Attachment of the thread against a wall or stick--Shooting of the lines of spiders--1. Opinions of Redi, Swammerdam, and Kirby--2. Lister, Kirby, and White--3. La Pluche and Bingley--4. D’Isjonval, Murray, and Bowman--5. Experiments of Mr. Blackwall--His account of the ascent of gossamer--6. Experiments by Rennie--Thread supposed to go off double--Subsequent experiments--Nests, Webs, and Nets of Spiders--Elastic satin nest of a spider--Evelyn’s account of hunting spiders--Labyrinthic spider’s nest--Erroneous account of the House Spider--Geometric Spiders--Attempts to procure silken filaments from Spiders bags--Experiments of M. Bon--Silken material--Manner of its preparations--M. Bon’s enthusiasm--His spider establishment--Spider-silk not poisonous--Its usefulness in healing wounds--Investigation of M. Bon’s establishment by M. Réaumur--His objections--Swift’s satire against speculators and projectors--Ewbank’s interesting observations on the ingenuity of spiders--Mason-spiders--Ingenious door with a hinge--Nest from the West Indies with spring hinge--Raft-building Spider--Diving Water-Spider--Rev. Mr. Kirby’s beautiful description of it--Observations of M. Clerck--Cleanliness of Spiders--Structure of their claws--Fanciful account of them patting their webs--Proceedings of a spider in a steamboat--Addison--His suggestions on the compilation of a “History of Insects.”

Of spiders there are many species; most of them extend their labors no farther than merely to make a web to ensnare and detain their food. But others are known to go beyond this, and spin a bag in the form of a cocoon, for the protection of their eggs, nearly similar to that of the silk-worm.[142]

[142] Don Luis Nee observed on certain trees growing in Chilpancingo, Tixtala in South America, ovate nests of caterpillars, eight inches long, which the inhabitants manufacture into stockings and handkerchiefs.--Annals of Botany, 2d, p. 104.

Modern naturalists do not rank spiders among insects, because they have no antennæ, and no division between the head and shoulders. They breathe by leaf-shaped gills, situated under the belly, instead of spiracles in the sides; and have a heart connected with these. But as spiders are popularly considered insects, it will sufficiently suit our purpose to introduce them here as such.

Spiders are usually classed according to their difference of color, whether black, brown, yellow, &c., or sometimes by the number and arrangement of their eyes: of these organs some possess no fewer than ten, others eight, and others again six[143].

[143] Porter’s “Treatise on the Silk Manufacture,” p. 168.

Some species of spiders are known to possess the power of not merely forming a web, but also of spinning, for the protection of their eggs, a bag somewhat similar in form and substance to the cocoon of the silk-worm. The apparatus by which they construct their ingenious fabrics, is much more complicated than that which is common to the various species of caterpillars. Caterpillars have only two reservoirs for the materials of their silk; but the spider spins minute fibres from fine papillæ, or small nipples placed in the hinder part of its body. These papillæ serve the office of so many wire-drawing machines, from which the silken threadlets are ejected. Spiders, according to the dissections of M. Treviranus, have four principal vessels, two larger and two smaller, with a number of minute ones at their base. Several small tubes branch towards the reservoirs, for carrying to them, no doubt, a supply of the secreted material. Swammerdam describes them as twisted into many coils of an agate color[144]. We do not find them coiled, but nearly straight, and of a deep yellow color. From these, when broken, threads can be drawn out like those spun by the spider, though we cannot draw them so fine by many degrees.

[144] Hill’s Swammerdam, part i. p. 23.

From these little flasks or bags of gum, situated near the apex of the abdomen, and not at the mouth as in caterpillars, a tube originates, and terminates in the external spinnerets, which may be seen by the naked eye in the form of five little teats surrounded by a small circle, as represented in Fig. 8. Plate IV.; this figure shows the garden spider (_Epeira diadema_) suspended by a thread proceeding from its spinneret.

We have seen that the thread of the silk-worm is composed of two filaments united, but the spider’s thread would appear, from the first view of its five spinnerets, to be quintuple, and in some species which have six teats, so many times more. It is not safe, however, in our interpretations of nature to proceed upon conjecture, however plausible, nor to take anything for granted which we have not actually seen; since our inferences in such cases are almost certain to be erroneous. If Aristotle, for example, had ever looked narrowly at a spider when spinning, he could not have fancied, as he does, that the materials which it uses are nothing but wool stripped from its body. On looking, then, with a strong magnifying glass, at the teat-shaped spinnerets of a spider, we perceive them studded with regular rows of minute bristle-like points, about a thousand to each teat, making in all from five to six thousand. These are minute tubes which we may appropriately term _spinnerules_, as each is connected with the internal reservoirs, and emits a thread of inconceivable fineness. Fig. 9. represents this wonderful apparatus as it appears in the microscope.

We do not recollect that naturalists have ventured to assign any cause for this very remarkable multiplicity of the spinnerules of spiders, so different from the simple spinneret of caterpillars. To us it appears an admirable provision for their mode of life. Caterpillars neither require such strong materials, nor that their thread should dry as quickly. It is well known in our manufactures, particularly in rope-spinning, that in cords of equal thickness, those which are composed of many smaller ones united are stronger than those spun at once. In the instance of the spider’s thread, this principle must hold still more strikingly, inasmuch as it is composed of fluid materials that require to be dried rapidly, and this drying must be greatly facilitated by exposing so many to the air separately before their union, which is effected at about the tenth of an inch from the spinnerets. In Fig. 10. Plate IV. each of the threads shown is represented to contain one hundred minute threads, the whole forming only one of the spider’s common threads. In the figure the threads are, of course, greatly magnified, so that, for the small space represented, the lines are shown as parallel. The threadlets, or filaments as they come from the papillæ, are too fine to be counted with any degree of accuracy, but it is evident that very many are sent forth from each of the larger papillæ. This fact tends to explain the power possessed by the spider of producing threads having different degrees of tenuity. By applying more or less of these papillæ against the place whence it begins its web, the spider joins into one thread the almost imperceptible individual filaments which it draws from its body; the size of this thread being dependent on the number of nipples employed, and regulated by that instinct which teaches the creature to make choice of the degree of exility most appropriate to the work wherein it is about to engage.

Réaumur relates that he has often counted as many as seventy or eighty fibres through a microscope, and perceived that there were yet infinitely more than he could reckon; so that he believed himself to be far within the limit of truth in computing that the tip of _each_ of the five papillæ furnished 1000 separate fibres: thus supposing that one slender filament of a spider’s web is made up of 5000 fibres!

Leeuwenhoeck, in one of his extraordinary microscopical observations on a young spider, not bigger than a grain of sand, upon enumerating the threadlets in one of its threads, calculated that it would require _four millions_ of them to be as thick as a hair of his head!

Another important advantage derived by the spider from the multiplicity of its threadlets is, that the thread affords a much more secure attachment to a wall, a branch of a tree, or any other object, than if it were simple; for, upon pressing the spinneret against the object, as spiders always do when they fix a thread, the spinnerules are extended over an area of some diameter, from every hair’s breadth of which a strand, as rope-makers term it, is extended to compound the main cord. Fig. 11. Plate IV. exhibits, magnified, this ingenious contrivance. Those who may be curious to examine it, will see it best when the line is attached to any black object, for the threads, being whitish, are, in otherwise, not so easily perceived.

SHOOTING OF THE LINES.--It has long been considered a curious though difficult investigation, to determine in what manner spiders, seeing that they are destitute of wings, transport themselves from tree to tree, across brooks, and frequently through the air itself, without any apparent starting point. On looking into the authors who have treated upon this subject, it is surprising how little there is to be met with that is new, even in the most recent. Their conclusions, or rather their conjectural opinions, are, however, worthy of notice; _for by unlearning error, we the more firmly establish truth_.

1. One of the earliest notions upon this subject is that of Blancanus, the commentator on Aristotle, which is partly adopted by Redi, by Henricus Regius of Utrecht, by Swammerdam[145], by Lehmann, as well as by Kirby and Spence[146]. “The spider’s thread,” says Swammerdam, “is generally made up of two or more parts, and after descending by such a thread, it ascends by one only, and is thus enabled to waft itself from one height or tree to another, even across running waters; the thread it leaves loose behind it being driven about by the wind, and so fixed to some other body.” “I placed,” says Kirby, “the large garden spider (_Epeira diadema_) upon a stick about a foot long, set upright in a vessel containing water.... It let itself drop, not by a single thread, but by _two_, each distant from the other about the twelfth of an inch, guided, as usual, by one of its hind feet, and that one apparently smaller than the other. When it had suffered itself to descend nearly to the surface of the water, it stopped short, and by some means, which I could not distinctly see, broke off, close to the spinners, the smallest thread, which still adhering by the other end to the top of the stick, floated in the air, and was so light as to be carried about by the slightest breath. On approaching a pencil to the loose end of this line, it did not adhere from mere contact. I, therefore, twisted it once or twice round the pencil, and then drew it tight. The spider, which had previously climbed to the top of the stick, immediately pulled at it with one of its feet, and finding it sufficiently tense, crept along it, strengthening it as it proceeded by another thread, and thus reached the pencil.”

[145] Swammerdam, part i. p. 24.

[146] Intr. vol. i. p. 415.

1. “We have repeatedly witnessed this occurrence,” says Mr. Rennie, “in the fields, and when spiders were placed for experiment, as Kirby has described; but we very much doubt that the thread broken is ever intended as a bridge cable, or that it would have been so used in that instance, had it not been artificially fixed and again accidentally found by the spider. According to our observations, a spider never for an instant, abandons, the thread which she dispatches in quest of an attachment, but uniformly keeps trying it with her feet, in order to ascertain its success. We are, therefore, persuaded, that when a thread is broken in the manner above described, it is because it has been spun too weak, and spiders may often be seen breaking such threads in the process of netting their webs.”

The plan, besides, as explained by these distinguished writers, would more frequently prove abortive than successful, from the cut thread not being sufficiently long. They admit, indeed, that spiders’ lines are often found “a yard or two long, fastened to twigs of grass not a foot in height.... Here, therefore, some other process must have been used[147].”

[147] Kirby and Spence, vol. i. Intr. p. 416.

2. The celebrated English naturalist, Dr. Lister, whose treatise upon the native spiders of that country, has been the basis of every subsequent work on the subject, maintains that “some spiders shoot out their threads in the same manner that porcupines do their quills[148]; that whereas the quills of the latter are entirely separated from their bodies, when thus shot out, the threads of the former remain fixed to their anus, as the sun’s rays to its body[149].” A French periodical writer goes a little farther, and says, that spiders have the power of shooting out threads, _and directing them at pleasure towards a determined point_, judging of the distance and position of the object by some sense of which we are ignorant[150]. Kirby also says, that he once observed a small garden spider (_Aranea reticulata_) “standing midway on a long perpendicular fixed thread, and an appearance caught” his “eye, of what seemed to be the emission of threads.” “I,” therefore, he adds, “moved my arm in the direction in which they apparently proceeded, and, as I had suspected, a floating thread attached itself to my coat, along which the spider crept. As this was connected with the spinners of the spider, it could not have been formed” by breaking a “secondary thread[151].” Again, in speaking of the gossamer-spider, he says, “it first extends its thigh, shank, and foot, into a right line, and then, elevating its abdomen till it becomes vertical, _shoots its thread_ into the air, and flies off from its station[152].”

[148] Porcupines do not shoot out their quills, as was once generally believed.

[149] Lister, Hist. Animalia Angliæ, 4to. p. 7.

[150] Phil. Mag. ii. p. 275.

[151] Vol. i. Intr. p. 417.

[152] Ibid. ii. p. 339.

Another distinguished naturalist, Mr. White of Selborne, in speaking of the gossamer-spider, says, “Every day in fine weather in autumn do I see these spiders shooting out their webs, and mounting aloft: they will go off from the finger, if you take them into your hand. Last summer, one alighted on my book as I was reading in the parlor; ran to the top of the page, and _shooting out a web_, took its departure from thence. But what I most wondered at, was, that it went off with considerable velocity in a place where no air was stirring; and I am sure I did not assist it with my breath[153].”

[153] Nat. Hist. of Selborne, vol. i. p. 327.

“Having so often witnessed,” says Mr. Rennie, “the thread set afloat in the air by spiders, we can readily conceive the way in which those eminent naturalists were led to suppose it to be ejected by some animal force acting like a syringe; but as the statement can be completely disproved by experiment, we shall only at present ask, in the words of Swammerdam--‘how can it be possible that a thread so fine and slender should be shot out with force enough to divide and pass through the air?--is it not rather probable that the air would stop its progress, and so entangle it and fit it to perplex the spider’s operations[154]?’” The opinion, indeed, is equally improbable with another suggested by Dr. Lister, that the spider can retract her thread within the abdomen, after it has been emitted[155]. De Geer[156] very justly joins Swammerdam in rejecting both of these fancies, which, in our own earlier observations upon spiders, certainly struck us as plausible and true. There can be no doubt, indeed, that the animal has a voluntary power of permitting the material to escape, or stopping it at pleasure, but this is not projectile.

[154] Book of Nature, part i. p. 25.

[155] Hist. Anim. Anglæ, 4to.

[156] Mémoires, vol. vii. p. 189.

3. “There are many people,” says the Abbé de la Pluche, “who believe that the spider flies when they see her pass from branch to branch, and even from one high tree to another; but she transports herself in this manner; and places herself upon the end of a branch, or some projecting body, and there fastens her thread; after which, with her two hind feet, she squeezes her dugs (_spinnerets_), and presses out one or more threads of two or three ells in length, which she leaves to float in the air till it be fixed to some particular place[157].” Without pretending to have observed this, Swammerdam says, “I can easily comprehend how spiders, without giving themselves any motion, may, by only compressing their spinnerets, force out a thread, which being driven by the wind, may serve to waft them from place to place[158].” Others, proceeding upon a similar notion, give a rather different account of the matter. “The spider,” says Bingley, “fixes one end of a thread to the place where she stands, and then with her hind paws _draws out_ several other threads from the nipples, which, being lengthened out and driven by the wind to some neighboring tree or other object, are by their natural clamminess fixed to it[159].”

[157] Spectacle de la Nature, vol. i.

[158] Book of Nature, pt. i. p. 25.

[159] Animal Biography, vol. iii. p. 475, 3d edition.

Observation gives some plausibility to the latter opinion, as the spider always actively uses her legs, though not to draw out the thread, but ascertain whether it has caught upon any object. The notion of her pressing the spinneret with her feet must be a mere fancy; at least it is not countenanced by anything which we have observed.

4. An opinion much more recondite is mentioned, if it was not started, by M. D’Isjonval, that the floating of the spider’s thread is electrical. “Frogs, cats, and other animals,” he says, “are affected by natural electricity, and feel the change of weather; but no other animal more than myself and spiders.” In wet and windy weather he accordingly found that they spun very short lines, “_but when a spider spins a long thread, there is a certainty of fine weather for at least ten or twelve days afterwards_[160].” A periodical writer, who signs himself Carolan[161], fancies that in darting out her thread the spider emits a stream of air, or some subtle electric fluid, by which she guides it as if by magic.

[160] Brez, Flore des Insectophiles. Notes, Supp. p. 134.

[161] Thomson’s Ann. of Philosophy, vol. iii. p. 306.

A living writer (Mr. John Murray) whose learning and skill in conducting experiments give no little weight to his opinions, has carried these views considerably farther. “The aëronautic spider,” he says, “can propel its thread both horizontally and vertically, and at all relative angles, _in motionless air_ and in an _atmosphere agitated by winds_; nay more, the aërial traveller can even dart its thread, to use a nautical phrase, in the ‘wind’s eye.’ My opinion and observations are based on many hundred experiments.... The entire phenomena are electrical. When a thread is propelled in a vertical plane, it remains perpendicular to the horizontal plane always upright, and when others are projected at angles more or less inclined, their direction is invariably preserved; the threads never intermingle, and when a pencil of threads is propelled, it ever presents the appearance of a divergent brush. These are electrical phenomena, and cannot be explained but on electrical principles.”

“In clear, fine weather, the air is invariably positive; and it is precisely in such weather that the aëronautic spider makes its ascent most easily and rapidly, whether it be in summer or winter.” “When the air is weakly positive, the ascent of the spider will be difficult, and its altitude extremely limited, and the threads propelled will be but little elevated above the horizontal plane. When negative electricity prevails, as in cloudy weather, or on the approach of rain, and the index of De Saussure’s hygrometer rapidly advancing towards humidity, the spider is unable to ascend[162].”

[162] Loudon’s Mag. of Nat. Hist., vol. i. p. 322.

Mr. Murray tells us, that “when a stick of excited sealing-wax is brought near the thread of suspension, it is evidently repelled; consequently, the electricity of the thread is of a negative character,” while “an excited glass tube brought near, seemed to attract the thread, and with it the aëronautic spider[163].” His friend, Mr. Bowman, further describes the aërial spider as “shooting out four or five, often six or eight, extremely fine webs several yards long, which waved in the breeze, diverging from each other like a pencil of rays.” One of them “had two distinct and widely diverging fasciculi of webs,” and “a line uniting them would have been at right angles to the direction of the breeze[164].”

[163] Experim. Researches in Nat. Hist., p. 136.

[164] Mag. Nat. Hist. vol. i. p. 324.

“Such is the chief evidence in support of the electrical theory,” says Mr. Rennie; “but though we have tried these experiments, we have not succeeded in verifying any one of them. The following statements of Mr. Blackwall come nearer our own observations.

5. ‘Having procured a small branched twig,’ says Mr. Blackwall, ‘I fixed it upright in an earthen vessel containing water, its base being immersed in the liquid, and upon it I placed several of the spiders which produce gossamer. Whenever the insects thus circumstanced were exposed to a current of air, either naturally or artificially produced, they directly turned the thorax towards the quarter whence it came, even when it was so slight as scarcely to be perceptible, and elevating the abdomen, they emitted from their spinners a small portion of glutinous matter, which was instantly carried out in a line, consisting of four finer ones, with a velocity equal, or nearly so, to that with which the air moved, as was apparent from observations made on the motion of detached lines similarly exposed. The spiders, in the next place, carefully ascertained whether their lines had become firmly attached to any object or not, by pulling at them with the front pair of legs; and if the result was satisfactory, after tightening them sufficiently, they made them pass to the twig; then discharging from their spinners, which they applied to the spot where they stood, a little more of their liquid gum, and committing themselves to these bridges of their own constructing, they passed over them in safety, drawing a second line after them, as a security in case the first gave way, and so effected their escape.

‘Such was invariably the result when spiders were placed where the air was liable to be sensibly agitated: I resolved, therefore, to put a bell-glass over them; and in this situation they remained seventeen days, evidently unable to produce a single line by which they could quit the branch they occupied, without encountering the water at its base; though, on the removal of the glass, they regained their liberty with as much celerity as in the instances already recorded.

‘This experiment, which, from want of due precaution, has misled so many distinguished naturalists, I have tried with several geometric spiders, and always with the same success[165].’”

[165] Linn. Trans., vol. xv. p. 456.

Mr. Blackwall, from subsequent experiments, says he is “confident in affirming, that in motionless air, spiders have not the power of darting their threads even through the space of half an inch[166].” The following details are given in confirmation of this opinion. Mr. Blackwall observed, the 1st of Oct., 1826, a little before noon, with the sun shining brightly, no wind stirring, and the thermometer in the shade ranging from 55°.5 to 64°, a profusion of shining lines crossing each other at every angle, forming a confused net-work, covering the fields and hedges, and thickly coating his feet and ankles, as he walked across a pasture. He was more struck with the phenomenon because on the previous day a strong gale of wind had blown from the south, and as gossamer is only seen in calm weather, it must have been all produced within a very short time.

[166] Mag. Nat. Hist., vol. ii. p. 397.

“What more particularly arrested my attention,” says Mr. Blackwall, “_was the ascent of an amazing quantity of webs of an irregular, complicated structure, resembling ravelled silk of the finest quality, and clearest white; they were of various shapes and dimensions, some of the largest measuring upwards of a yard in length, and several inches in breadth in the widest part; while others were almost as broad as long, presenting an area of a few square inches only_.

“These webs, it was quickly perceived, were not formed in the air, as is generally believed, _but at the earth’s surface_. The lines of which they were composed, being brought into contact by the mechanical action of gentle airs, adhered together, till, by continual additions, they were accumulated into flakes or masses of considerable magnitude, on which the ascending current, occasioned by the rarefaction of the air contiguous to the heated ground, acted with so much force as to separate them from the objects to which they were attached, raising them in the atmosphere to a perpendicular height of at least several hundred feet. I collected a number of these webs about mid-day, as they rose; and again in the afternoon, when the upward current had ceased, and they were falling; but scarcely one in twenty contained a spider: though, on minute inspection, I found small winged insects, chiefly _aphides_, entangled in most of them.

“From contemplating this unusual display of gossamer, my thoughts were naturally directed to the animals which produced it, and the countless myriads in which they swarmed almost created as much surprise as the singular occupation that engrossed them. Apparently actuated by the same impulse, all were intent upon traversing the regions of air; _accordingly, after gaining the summits of various objects, as blades of grass, stubble, rails, gates, &c., by the slow and laborious process of climbing, they raised themselves still higher by strengthening their limbs; and elevating the abdomen, by bringing it from the usual horizontal position into one almost perpendicular, they emitted from their spinning apparatus a small quantity of the glutinous secretion with which they construct their webs_. This viscous substance being drawn out by the ascending current of rarefied air into fine lines several feet in length, was carried upward, until the spiders, feeling themselves acted upon with sufficient force in that direction, quitted their hold of the objects on which they stood, and commenced their journey by mounting aloft.

“Whenever the lines became inadequate to the purpose for which they were intended, by adhering to any fixed body, they were immediately detached from the spinners and so converted into terrestrial gossamer, by means of the last pair of legs, and the proceedings just described were repeated; which plainly proves that these operations result from a strong desire felt by the insects to effect an ascent[167].” Mr. Blackwall has recently read a paper (still unpublished) in the Linnæan Society, confirmatory of his opinions.

[167] Linn. Trans., vol. xv. p. 453.

6. “Without going into the particulars,” says Mr. Rennie, “of what agrees or disagrees in the above experiments with our own observations, we shall give a brief account of what we have actually seen in our researches. So far as we have determined, then, all the various species of spiders, how different soever the form of their webs may be, proceed in the circumstance of shooting their lines precisely alike; but those which we have found the most manageable in experimenting, are the small gossamer spider (_Aranea obtextrix_, BECHSTEIN), known by its shining blackish-brown body and reddish-brown semi-transparent legs; but particularly the long-bodied spider (_Tetragnatha extensa_, LATR.), which varies in color from green to brownish or grey--but has always a black line along the belly, with a silvery white or yellowish one on each side. The latter is chiefly recommended by being a very industrious and persevering spinner, while its movements are easily seen, from the long cylindrical form of its body and the length of its legs.

“We placed the above two species with five or six others, including the garden, the domestic, and the labyrinthic spiders, in empty wine-glasses, set in tea-saucers filled with water, to prevent their escape. When they discovered, by repeated descents from the brims of the glasses, that they were thus surrounded by a wet ditch, they all set themselves to the task of throwing their silken bridges across. For this purpose they first endeavored to ascertain in what direction the wind blew, or rather (as the experiment was made in our study) which way any current of air set,--by elevating their arms _as we have seen sailors do in a dead calm_. But, as it may prove more interesting to keep to one individual, we shall first watch the proceedings of the gossamer spider.

“Finding no current of air on any quarter of the brim of the glass, it seemed to give up all hopes of constructing its bridge of escape, and placed itself in the attitude of repose; _but no sooner did we produce a stream of air, by blowing gently towards its position, than, fixing a thread to the glass, and laying hold of it with one of its feet, by way of security, it placed its body in a vertical position, with its spinnerets extended outwards; and immediately we had the pleasure of seeing a thread streaming out from them several feet in length, on which the little aëronaut sprung up into the air_. We were convinced, from what we thus observed, that it was the double or bend of the thread which was blown into the air; and we assigned as a reason for her previously attaching and drawing out a thread from the glass, the wish to give the wind a _point d’appui_--something upon which it might have a _purchase_, as a mechanic would say of a lever. The bend of the thread, then, on this view of the matter, would be carried out by the wind,--would form the point of impulsion,--and, of course, the escape bridge would be an ordinary line doubled.”

Such is the opinion of Mr. Rennie, which is strongly corroborated by what has been said by M. Latreille--than whom no higher authority could be given. “When the animal,” says he, “desires to cross a brook, she fixes to a tree or some other object one of the ends of her first threads, in order that the wind or a current of air may carry the other beyond the obstacle[168];” and as one end is always attached to the spinnerets, he must mean that the double of the thread flies off. In his previous publications, however, Latreille had contented himself with copying the statement of Dr. Lister. “In order to ascertain the fact,” says Mr. Rennie, “and put an end to all doubts, we watched, with great care and minuteness, the proceedings of the long-bodied spider above mentioned, by producing a stream of air in the same manner, as it perambulated the brim of the glass. It immediately, as the other had done, attached a thread and raised its body perpendicularly, like a tumbler standing on his hands with his head downwards; but we looked in vain for this thread bending, as we had at first supposed, and going off double. Instead of this it remained tight, while another thread, or what appeared to be so, streamed off from the spinners, similar to smoke issuing through a pin-hole, sometimes in a line, and sometimes at a considerable angle, with the first, according to the current of the air,--the first thread, extended from the glass to the spinnerets, remaining all the while tight drawn in a right line. It further appeared to us, that the first thread proceeded from the pair of spinnerets nearest the head, while the floating thread came from the outer pair,--though it is possible in such minute objects we may have been deceived. That the first was continuous with the second, without any perceptible joining, we ascertained in numerous instances, by catching the floating line and pulling it tight, in which case the spider glides along without attaching another line to the glass; but if she have to coil up the floating line to lighten it, as usually happens, she gathers it into a packet and glues the two ends tight together. Her body, while the floating line streamed out, remained quite motionless, but we distinctly saw the spinnerets not only projected, as is always done when a spider spins, but moved in the same way as an infant moves its lips when sucking. We cannot doubt, therefore, that this motion is intended to emit (if eject or project be deemed words too strong), the liquid material of the thread; at the same time, we are quite certain that it cannot throw out a single inch of thread _without the aid of a current of air_. A long-bodied spider will thus throw out in succession as many threads as we please, by simply blowing towards it; but not one where there is no current, as under a bell-glass, where it may be kept till it die, without being able to construct a bridge over water of an inch long. We never observed more than one floating thread produced at the same time; though other observers mention several.

[168] ----“L’un des bouts de ces premiers fils, afin que le vent ou un courant d’air pousse l’autre extrémité de l’un d’eux au delà de l’obstacle.”--Dict. Classique d’Hist. Nat., vol. i. p. 510.

“The probable commencement, we think, of the floating line, is by the emission of little globules of the glutinous material to the points of the spinnerules--perhaps it may be dropped from them, if not ejected, and the globules being carried off by the current of air, drawn out into a thread. But we give this as only a conjecture, for we could not bring a glass of sufficient power to bear upon the spinnerules at the commencement of the floating line.

“In subsequent experiments we found, that it was not indispensable for the spider to rest upon a solid body when producing a line, as she can do so while she is suspended in the air by another line. When the current of air also is strong, she will sometimes commit herself to it by swinging from the end of the line. We have even remarked this when there was scarcely a breath of air.

“We tried another experiment. We pressed pretty firmly upon the base of the spinnerets, so as not to injure the spider, blowing obliquely over them; but no floating line appeared. We then touched them with a pencil and drew out several lines an inch or two in length, upon which we blew in order to extend them, but in this also we were unsuccessful, as they did not lengthen more than a quarter of an inch. We next traced out the reservoirs of a garden-spider (_Epeira diadema_), and immediately taking a drop of the matter from one of them on the point of a fine needle, we directed upon it a strong current of air, and succeeded in blowing out a thick yellow line, as we might have done with gum-water, of about an inch and a half long.

“When we observed our long-bodied spider eager to throw a line by raising up its body, we brought within three inches of its spinnerets an excited stick of sealing-wax, of which it took no notice, nor did any thread extend to it, not even when brought almost to touch the spinnerets. We experienced the same want of success with an excited glass rod; and indeed had not anticipated any other result, as we have never observed that either these attract or repel the floating threads, as Mr. Murray has seen them do; nor have we ever noticed the end of a floating thread separated into its component threadlets and diverging like a brush, as he and Mr. Bowman describe (See Fig. 11.). It may be proper to mention that Mr. Murray, in conformity with his theory, explains the shooting of lines in a current of air by the electric state produced by motion in consequence of the mutual friction of the gaseous particles. But this view of the matter does not seem to affect our statements.”

NESTS, WEBS, AND NETS OF SPIDERS.--“The neatest,” says Mr. Rennie, “though the smallest spider’s nest which we have seen, was constructed in the chink of a garden-post, which we had cut out the previous summer in getting at the cells of a carpenter-bee. The architect was one of the larger hunting-spiders, erroneously said by some naturalists to be incapable of spinning. The nest in question was about two inches high, composed of a very close satin-like texture. There were two parallel chambers placed perpendicularly, in which position also the inhabitant reposed there during the day, going, as we presume, only abroad to prey during the night. But the most remarkable circumstance was, that the openings (two above and two below) were so elastic, that they shut closely together. We observed this spider for several months, but at last it disappeared, and we took the nest out under the notion that it might contain eggs; but found none, and therefore concluded that it was only used as a day retreat.” The account which Evelyn has given of these hunting spiders is so interesting that we must transcribe it.

“Of all sorts of insects,” says he, “none have afforded me more divertisement than the _venatores_ (hunters), which are a sort of _lupi_ (wolves) that have their dens in rugged walls and crevices of our houses; a small brown and delicately-spotted kind of spiders, whose hinder legs are longer than the rest. Such I did frequently observe at Rome, which, espying a fly at three or four yards distance, upon the balcony where I stood, would not make directly to her, _but crawl under the rail, till being arrived to the antipodes, it would steal up, seldom missing its aim; but if it chanced to want anything of being perfectly opposite, would, at first peep, immediately slide down again,--till taking better notice, it would come the next time exactly upon the fly’s back: but if this happened not to be within a competent leap, then would this insect move so softly, as the very shadow of the gnomon seemed not to be more imperceptible, unless the fly moved; and then would the spider move also in the same proportion, keeping that just time with her motion, as if the same soul had animated both these little bodies; and whether it were forwards, backwards, or to either side, without at all turning her body, like a well-managed horse: but if the capricious fly took wing and pitched upon another place behind our huntress, then would the spider whirl its body so nimbly about, as nothing could be imagined more swift: by which means she always kept the head towards her prey, though, to appearance, as immoveable as if it had been a nail driven into the wood, till by that indiscernible progress (being arrived within the sphere of her reach) she made a fatal leap, swift as lightning, upon the fly, catching him in the pole, where she never quitted hold till her belly was full, and then carried the remainder home_.”

One feels a little sceptical, however, when he adds, “I have beheld them _instructing their young ones how to hunt_, which they would sometimes discipline for not well observing; but when any of the old ones did (as sometimes) miss a leap, _they would run out of the field and hide themselves in their crannies, as ashamed, and haply not to be seen abroad for four or five hours after_; for so long have I watched the nature of this strange insect, the contemplation of whose so wonderful sagacity and address has amazed me; nor do I find in any chase whatsoever more cunning and stratagem observed. I have found some of these spiders in my garden, when the weather, towards spring, was very hot, but they are not so eager in hunting as in Italy[169].”

[169] Evelyn’s Travels in Italy.

We have only to add to this lively narrative, that the hunting-spider, when he leaps, takes good care to provide against accidental falls by always swinging himself from a good strong cable of silk, as Swammerdam correctly states[170], and which anybody may recognise, as one of the small hunters (_Salticus scenicus_), known by its back striped with black and white like a zebra.

[170] Book of Nature, part i. p. 24.

Mr. Weston, the editor of “Bloomfield’s Remains,” falls into a very singular mistake about hunting-spiders, imagining them to be web-weaving ones which have exhausted their materials, and are therefore compelled to hunt. In proof of this he gives an instance which came under his own observation[171]!

“As a contrast,” says Mr. Rennie, “to the little elastic satin nest of the hunter, we may mention the largest with which we are acquainted,--that of the labyrinthic spider (_Agelena labyrinthica_, WALCKENAER). Our readers must often have seen this nest spread out like a broad sheet in hedges, furze, and other low bushes, and sometimes on the ground. The middle of this sheet, which is of a close texture, is swung like a sailor’s hammock, by _silken_ ropes extended all around to the higher branches; but the whole curves upwards and backwards, sloping down to a long funnel-shaped gallery which is nearly horizontal at the entrance, but soon winds obliquely till it becomes quite perpendicular. This curved gallery is about a quarter of an inch in diameter, is much more closely woven than the sheet part of the web, and sometimes descends into a hole in the ground, though oftener into a group of crowded twigs, or a tuft of grass. Here the spider dwells secure, frequently resting with her legs extended from the entrance of the gallery, ready to spring out upon whatever insect may fall into her sheet net. She herself can only be caught by getting behind her and forcing her out into the web; but though we have often endeavored to make her construct a nest under our eye, we have been as unsuccesful as in similar experiments with the common house spider (_Aranea domestica_).

“The house spider’s proceedings were long ago described by Homberg, and the account has been copied, as usual, by almost every subsequent writer. Goldsmith has, indeed, given some strange mis-statements from his own observations, and Bingley has added the original remark, that, after fixing its first thread, creeping along the wall, and joining it as it proceeds, it ‘_darts itself to the opposite side_, where the other end is to be fastened[172]!’ Homberg’s spider took the more circuitous route of travelling to the opposite wall, carrying in one of its claws the end of the thread previously fixed, lest it should stick in the wrong place. This we believe to be the correct statement, for as the web is always horizontal, it would seldom answer to commit a floating thread to the wind, as is done by other species. Homberg’s spider, after stretching as many lines by way of _warp_ as it deemed sufficient between the two walls of the corner which it had chosen, proceeded to cross this in the way our weavers do in adding the _woof_, with this difference, that the spider’s threads were only laid on, and not interlaced[173]. The domestic spiders, however, in these modern days, must have forgot this mode of weaving, for none of their webs will be found thus regularly constructed!”

[171] Bloomfield’s Remains, vol. ii. p. 64, _note_.

[172] Animal Biography, iii. 470, 471.

[173] Mem. de l’Acad. des Sciences, pour 1707, p. 339.

The geometric, or net-working spiders (See Fig. 12. Plate IV.) are as well known as any of the preceding; almost every bush and tree in our gardens and hedge-rows having one or more of their nests stretched out in a vertical position between adjacent branches. The common garden spider (_Epeira diadema_), and the long-bodied spider (_Tetragnatha extensa_), are the best known of this order.

“The chief care of a spider of this sort,” says Mr. Rennie, “is, to form a cable of sufficient strength to bear the net she means to hang upon it; and after throwing out a floating line as above described, when it catches properly, she doubles and redoubles it with additional threads. On trying its strength she is not contented with the test of pulling it with her legs, but drops herself down several feet from various points of it, as we have often seen, swinging and bobbing with the whole weight of her body. She proceeds in a similar manner with the rest of the frame of her wheel-shaped net; and it may be remarked that some of the ends of these lines are not simple, but in form of a Y, giving her the additional security of two attachments instead of one.”

In constructing the body of the nest, the most remarkable circumstance is the using of her limbs as a measure, to regulate the distances of her _radii_ or wheel-spokes (See Fig. 12. Plate IV., which represents the geometric net of the “_Epeira diadema_”), and the circular meshes interwoven into them. These are consequently always proportional to the size of the spider. She often takes up her station in the centre, but not always, though it is so said by inaccurate writers; but she as frequently lurks in a little chamber constructed under a leaf or other shelter at the corner of her web, ready to dart down upon whatever prey may be entangled in her net. The centre of the net is said also to be composed of more viscid materials than its suspensory lines,--a circumstance alleged to be proved by the former appearing under the microscrope studded with globules of gum[174]. “We have not been able,” says Mr. Rennie, “to verify this distinction, having seen the suspensory lines as often studded in this manner as those in the centre.”

[174] Kirby and Spence, Intr. i. 419.

At the commencement of the last century a method was discovered in France by Monsieur Bon, of procuring silk from spiders’ bags, and its use was attempted in the manufacture of several articles. Mr. Bon has, however, noticed only _two_ kinds of silk-making spiders, and these he has distinguished from each other as having either long or short legs, the last variety producing the finest quality of raw silk. According to this ingenious observer, the silk formed by these insects is equally beautiful, strong, and glossy with that formed by the silk-worm. When first formed, the color of these spiders’ bags is gray, but, by exposure to the air, they soon acquire a blackish hue. Other spider bags might probably be found of different colors, and affording silk of better quality, but their scarcity would render any experiment with them difficult of accomplishment; for which reason M. Bon confined his attention to the bags of the common sort of the short-legged kind.

These always form their bags in some place sheltered from the wind and rain, such as the hollow trunks of trees, the corners of windows or vaults, or under the eaves of houses. A quantity of the bags was collected from which a new kind of silk was made, said to be in no respect inferior to the produce of the silk-worm. It took readily all kinds of dyes, and might have been wrought into any description of silken fabric. Mr. Bon had stockings and gloves made from it, some of which he presented to the Royal Academy of Paris, and others he transmitted to the Royal Society of London.

This silk was prepared in the following manner:--Twelve or thirteen ounces of the bags were beaten with a stick, until they became entirely freed from dust. They were next washed in warm water, which was continually changed, until it no longer became clouded or discolored by the bags under process. After this they were steeped in a large quantity of water wherein soap, saltpetre, and gum-arabic had been dissolved. The whole was then gently boiled during three hours, after which the bags were rinsed in clear warm water to discharge the soap. They were finally set out to dry, previous to the operation of carding, which was then performed with cards differing from those usually employed with silk, being much finer. By these means silk of a peculiar ash color was obtained, which was spun without difficulty. Mr. Bon affirmed that the thread was both stronger and finer than common silk, and that therefore fabrics similar to those made with the latter material might be manufactured from this, there being no reason for doubting that it would stand any trials of the loom, after having undergone those of the stocking frame.

The only obstacle, therefore, which appeared to prevent the establishing of any considerable manufacture from these spider bags was the difficulty of obtaining them in sufficient abundance. Mr. Bon fancied that this objection could soon be overcome, and that the art of domesticating and rearing spiders, as practised with silk-worms, was to be attained. Carried away by the enthusiasm of one who, having made a discovery, pursues it with ardor undismayed by difficulties, he met every objection by comparisons, which perhaps were not wholly and strictly founded on fact. Contrasted with the spider, and to favor his arguments, the silk-worm in his hands made a very despicable figure. He affirmed that the female spider produces 600 or 700 eggs; while of the 100, to which number he limited the silk-worm, not more than one-half were reared to produce balls. That the spiders hatched spontaneously, without any care, in the months of August and September; that the old spiders dying soon after they have laid their eggs, the young ones live for ten or twelve months without food, and continue in their bags without growing, until the hot weather, by putting their viscid juices in motion, induces them to come forth, spin, and run about in search of food.

Mr. Bon’s spider establishment, was managed in the following manner:--having ordered all the short-legged spiders which could be collected by persons employed for the purpose, to be brought to him, he inclosed them in paper coffins and pots; these were covered with papers, which, as well as the coffins, were pricked over their surface with pin-holes to admit air to the prisoners. The insects were duly fed with flies, and after some time it was found on inspection that the greater part of them had formed their bags. This advocate for the rearing of spiders contended that spiders’ bags afforded much more silk in proportion to their weight than those of the silk-worm; in proof of which he observed, that thirteen ounces yield nearly four ounces of pure silk, two ounces of which were sufficient to make a pair of stockings; whereas stockings made of common silk were said by him to weigh seven or eight ounces.

It was objected by some of Mr. Bon’s contemporaries, that spiders were venomous; and this is so far true that a bite from some of the species is very painful, producing as much swelling as the smart sting of a nettle. Mr. Bon, however, asserted that he was several times bitten, without experiencing any inconvenience; if so, he was more fortunate or less sensitive than any of the spider-tamers with whom we have been acquainted. It was further asserted, that this venom extended itself to the silk which the spider produced; but this assertion was utterly absurd, as any one who has ever applied a cobweb to stop the bleeding from a cut ought to have known. Mr. Bon declared with perfect truth, that the silk, so far from being pernicious, was useful in staunching and healing wounds, its natural gluten acting as a kind of balsam.

The honest enthusiasm of the projector, and the singularity of a regular establishment being formed for rearing and working spiders, excited a considerable share of public attention. It was, indeed, an age of strange speculations, for nearly at the same time a German gentleman broached a scheme for turning tame squirrels and mice to account in spinning; and companies were formed in England, with large nominal capitals to carry out schemes still more preposterous. So important did Mr. Bon’s project appear to the French Academy, that they deputed the eminent naturalist, M. Réaumur, to investigate the merits of this new silk-filament.

After a long and patient examination M. Réaumur stated the following objections to Mr. Bon’s plan for raising spider-silk, which have ever since been regarded as insurmountable.

1. The natural fierceness of spiders renders them unfit to be bred together. On distributing four or five thousand of these insects into cells or companies of from fifty to one or two hundred, it was found that the larger spiders quickly _killed and ate the smaller_, so that in a short space of time the cells were depopulated, scarcely more than one or two being found in each cell.

2. The silk of the spider is inferior to that of the silk-worm both in lustre and strength; and produces less material in proportion, than can be made available for the purposes of the manufacture. The filament of the spider’s-bag can support a weight of only thirty-six grains, while that of the silk-worm will sustain a weight of one hundred and fifty grains. Thus four or five threads of the spider must be brought together to equal one thread of the silk-worm, and as it is impossible that these should be applied so accurately over each other as not to leave little vacant spaces between them, the light is not equally reflected, and the lustre of the material is consequently inferior to that in which a solid thread is used.

3. A great disadvantage of the spider’s silk is, that it cannot be wound off the ball like that of the silk-worm, but must necessarily be carded. By this latter process, its evenness, which contributes so materially to its lustre, is destroyed.

The ferociousness and pugnacity of the spiders are not exaggerated; they fight like furies. Their voracity, too, is almost incredible, and it is very questionable whether the mere collection of flies sufficient to feed a large number of the spiders would not involve an amount of expense fatal to the project as a lucrative undertaking. The strength of the spiders’ filament is, if anything, overstated by Réaumur. Deficiency of lustre arising from the carding of the filaments is common to the spider-fabric and to spun silk; this objection would, perhaps, not be of very great weight but for the decisive calculation by which Réaumur showed the comparative amount of production between the spider and the silk-worm.

The largest cocoons weigh four, and the smaller three grains each; spider-bags do not weigh above one grain each; and, after being cleared of their dust, have lost two-thirds of this weight; therefore the _work of twelve spiders_ equals that of _only one silk-worm_; and a pound of spider-silk would require for its production 27,648 insects. But as the bags are wholly the work of the females, who spin them as a deposit for their eggs, it follows that 55,296 spiders must be reared to yield one pound of silk: yet this will be obtained only from the best spiders; those large ones ordinarily seen in gardens, &c., yielding not more than a twelfth part of the silk of the others. The work of 280 of these would therefore not yield more silk than the produce of one industrious silk-worm, and 663,552 of them would furnish only one pound of silk!

Although Réaumur’s report completely extinguished Mr. Bon’s project in France, it was revived in England two or three times in the early part of the last century. Swift has not neglected to make it a portion of his unrivalled satire against speculators and projectors, in his account of Gulliver’s visit to the Academy of Lagado:

“I went into another room, says he, where the walls and ceilings were all hung round with cobwebs, except a narrow passage for the artist to go in and out. At my entrance he called out to me not to disturb his webs. He lamented the fatal mistake the world had been so long in, of using silk-worms, while we had such plenty of domestic insects, who infinitely excelled the former, because they understood how to weave as well as spin. And he proposed further, that, by employing spiders, the charge of dyeing silk should be wholly saved; whereof I was fully convinced, when he showed me a vast number of flies most beautifully colored, wherewith he fed his spiders, assuring us that the webs would take a tincture from them, and as he had them of all hues, he hoped to suit every body’s fancy, as soon as he could find proper food for the flies, of certain gums, oils, and other glutinous matter to give a strength and consistency to the threads.”

THE INGENUITY OF SPIDERS.--Mr. Thomas Ewbank of New York, in a letter to the Editor of the Journal of the Franklin Institute, bearing date September 20th, 1842, gives us the following interesting description of the ingenuity of the Spider.

“The resources of the lower animals have often excited admiration, and though no comprehensive and systematic series of observations have yet been made upon them(?), the time is, I believe, not distant when the task will be undertaken--perhaps within the next century. But whenever and by whomsoever accomplished, the mechanism of animals will then form the subject of one of the most interesting and _useful_ volumes in the archives of man.

“Among insects, spiders have repeatedly been observed to modify and change their contrivances for _ensnaring their prey_. Those that live in fields and gardens often fabricate their nets or webs vertically. This sometimes occurs in locations where there is no object sufficiently near to which the lower edge or extremity of the web can properly be braced; and unless this be done, light puffs or breezes of wind are apt to blow it into an entangled mass. Instead of being spread out, like the sail of a ship, to the wind, it would become clewed over the upper line, or edge, like a sail when furled up. Now how would a human engineer act under similar circumstances? But ere the reader begins to reflect(!), he should bear in mind that it would not do to brace the web by running rigging from it to some _fixed_ or immovable object below--by no means;--for were this done, it could not yield to impulses of wind; the rigging would be snapped by the first blast, and the whole structure probably destroyed.

“Whatever contrivances human sagacity might suggest, they could hardly excel those which these despised engineers sometimes adopt. Having formed a web, under circumstances similar to those to which we have referred, a spider has been known to descend from it to the ground by means of a thread spun for the purpose, and after selecting a minute pebble, or piece of stone, has coiled the end of the thread round it. Having done this, the ingenious artist ascended, and fixing himself on the lower part of the web, hoisted up the pebble until it swung several inches clear of the ground. The cord to which the weight was suspended was then secured by additional ones, running from it to different parts of the web, which thus acquired the requisite tension, and was allowed, at the same time, to yield to sudden puffs of wind without danger of being rent asunder.

“A similar instance came under my notice a few days ago. A large spider had constructed his web, in nearly a vertical position, about six feet from the ground, in a corner of my yard. The upper edge was formed by a strong thread, secured at one end to a vine leaf, and the other to a clothes line. One part of the lower edge was attached to a Penyan sun-flower, and another to a trellis fence, four or five feet distant. Between these there was no object nearer than the ground, to which an additional brace line could be carried; but two threads, a foot asunder, descended from this part of the web, and, eight or ten inches below it, were united at a point. From this point, a single line, four or five inches long, was suspended, and to its lower extremity was the weight, a _living one_, viz. a worm, _three inches long_, and _one-eighth of an inch thick_. The cord was fastened around the middle of the victim’s body, and as no object was within reach, all its writhings and efforts to escape were fruitless. Its weight answered the same purpose as a piece of inanimate matter, while its sufferings seemed not in the least to disturb the unconcerned murderer, who lay waiting for his prey above.

“Whether the owner of the web found it a more easy task to capture this unlucky worm and raise it, than to elevate a stone of the same weight, may be a question(?). Perhaps in seeking for the latter, the former fell in his way, and was seized as the first suitable object that came to hand--like the human tyrant, (Domitian) who, to show his skill in archery, planted his arrows in the heads of men or cattle, in the absence of other targets. It may be, however, that a piece of stone, earth, or wood, of a suitable weight, was not in the vicinity of the web.

“To observe the effect of this weight, I separated, with a pair of scissors, the thread by which it was suspended, and instantly the web sunk to half its previous dimensions--the lower part became loose, and with the slightest current kept shaking like a sail shivering in the wind. A fresh weight was not supplied by the next morning; but instead of it two long brace lines extended from the lower part of the web to two vine tendrils, a considerable distance off. These I cut away to see what device would be next adopted, but on going to examine it the following day, I found the clothes line removed, and with it all relics of the insect’s labors had disappeared.”

MASON-SPIDERS.--A no less wonderful structure is composed by a sort of spiders, natives of the tropics and the south of Europe, which have been justly called mason-spiders by M. Latreille. One of these (_Mygale nidulans_, WALCKN.), found in the West Indies, “digs a hole in the earth obliquely downwards, about three inches in length, and one in diameter. This cavity she lines with a tough thick web, which, when taken out, resembles a leathern purse; but what is most curious, this house has a door with hinges, like the operculum of some sea-shells, and herself and family, who tenant this nest, open and shut the door whenever they pass and repass. This history was told me,” says Darwin, “and the nest, with its door, shown me by the late Dr. Butt, of Bath, who was some years physician in Jamaica[175].”

[175] Darwin’s Zoonomia, i. 253, 8vo. ed.

“The nest of a mason-spider, similar to this,” says Mr. Rennie, “has been obligingly put into our hands by Mr. Riddle of Blackheath. It came from the West Indies, and is probably that of Latreille’s clay-kneader (_Mygale cratiens_), and one of the smallest of the genus. We have since seen a pair of these spiders in possession of Mr. William Mello, of Blackheath. The nest is composed of very hard argillaceous clay, deeply tinged with brown oxide of iron. It is in form of a tube, about one inch in diameter, between six and seven inches long, and slightly bent towards the lower extremity--appearing to have been mined into the clay rather than built. The interior of the tube is lined _with a uniform tapestry of silken web, of an orange-white color_, with a texture intermediate between India paper and very fine glove leather. But the most wonderful part of this nest is its entrance, which we look upon as the perfection of insect architecture. A circular door, about the size of a crown piece, slightly concave on the outside and convex within, is formed of more than a dozen layers of the same web which lines the interior, closely laid upon one another, and shaped so that the inner layers are the broadest, the outer being gradually less in diameter, except towards the hinge, which is about an inch long; and in consequence of all the layers being united there, and prolonged into the tube, it becomes the thickest and strongest part of the structure. The elasticity of the materials, also, gives to this hinge the remarkable peculiarity of acting like a spring, and shutting the door of the nest spontaneously. It is, besides, made to fit so accurately to the aperture, which is composed of similar concentric layers of web, that it is almost impossible to distinguish the joining by the most careful inspection. To gratify curiosity, the door has been opened and shut hundreds of times, without in the least destroying the power of the spring. When the door is shut, it resembles some of the lichens (_Lecidea_), or the leathery fungi, such as _Polyporus versicolor_ (MICHELI), or, nearer still, the upper valve of a young oyster-shell. The door of the nest, the only part seen above ground, being of a blackish-brown color, it must be very difficult to discover.”

Another mason-spider (_Mygale cœmentaria_, LATR.), found in the south of France, usually selects for her nest a place bare of grass, sloping in such a manner as to carry off the water, and of a firm soil, without rocks or small stones. She digs a gallery a foot or two in depth, and of a diameter (equal throughout) sufficient to admit of her easily passing. She lines this _with a tapestry of silk glued to the walls_. The door, which is circular, is constructed of many layers of earth kneaded, and bound together with _silk_. Externally, it is flat and rough, corresponding to the earth around the entrance, for the purpose, no doubt, of concealment: on the inside it is convex, _and tapestried thickly with a web of fine silk_. The threads of this door-tapestry are prolonged, and strongly attached to the upper side of the entrance, forming an excellent hinge, which, when pushed open by the spider, shuts again by its own weight, without the aid of spring hinges. When the spider is at home, and her door forcibly opened by an intruder, she pulls it strongly inwards, and even where half-opened often snatches it out of the hand; but when she is foiled in this, she retreats to the bottom of her den, as her last resource[176]. The nest of this spider (the mason spider) is represented in Plate IV. Fig. 14., and shows the nest shut. Fig. 15., represents it open. Fig. 16. the spider (_Mygale cœmentaria_). Fig. 17. the eyes magnified. Figures 18 and 19 parts of the foot and claw magnified. Rossi ascertained that the female of an allied species (_Mygale sauvagesii_, LATR.), found in Corsica, lived in one of these nests, with a numerous posterity. He destroyed one of the doors to observe whether a new one would be made, which it was; but it was fixed immoveably, without a hinge; the spider, no doubt, fortifying herself in this manner till she thought she might re-open it without danger[177].

[176] Mém. Soc. d’Hist. Nat. de Paris, An. vii.

[177] Mém. Soc. d’Hist. Nat. de Paris, An. vii. p. 125, and Latreille, Hist. Nat. Génér. viii. p. 163.

“The Rev. Revett Shepherd has often noticed, in the fen ditches of Norfolk, a very large spider (the species not yet determined) which actually forms a _raft_ for the purpose of obtaining its prey with more facility. Keeping its station upon a ball of weeds about three inches in diameter, probably held together by slight silken cords, it is wafted along the surface of the water upon this floating island, which it quits the moment it sees a drowning insect. The booty thus seized it devours at leisure upon its raft, under which it retires when alarmed by any danger[178].” In the spring of 1830, Mr. Rennie found a spider on some reeds in the Croydon Canal, which agreed in appearance with Mr. Shepherd’s.

[178] Kirby and Spence, Intr. i. 425.

Among our native spiders there are several, which, not contented with a web like the rest of their congeners, take advantage of other materials to construct cells where, “_hushed in grim repose_,” they “expect their insect prey.” The most simple of those spider cells is constructed by a longish-bodied spider (_Aranea holosericea_, LINN.), which is a little larger than the common hunting spider. It rolls up a leaf of the lilac or poplar, precisely in the same manner as is done by the leaf-rolling caterpillars, upon whose cells it sometimes seizes to save itself trouble, having first expelled, or perhaps devoured, the rightful owner. The spider, however, is not satisfied with the tapestry of the caterpillar, _but always weaves a fresh set of her own_, more close and substantial.

Another spider, common in woods and copses (_Epeira quadrata?_) weaves together a great number of leaves to form a dwelling for herself, and in front of it she spreads her toils for entrapping the unwary insects which stray thither. These, as soon as caught, are dragged into her den, and stored up for a time of scarcity. Here also her eggs are deposited and hatched in safety. When the cold weather approaches, and the leaves of her edifice wither, she abandons it for the more secure shelter of a hollow tree, where she soon dies; but the continuation of the species depends upon eggs, deposited in the nest before winter, and remaining to be hatched with the warmth of the ensuing summer.

The spider’s den of united leaves, however, which has just been described, is not always useless when withered and deserted; for the dormouse usually selects it as a ready-made roof for its nest of dried grass. That those old spiders’ dens are not accidentally chosen by the mouse, appears from the fact, that out of about a dozen mouse-nests of this sort found during winter in a copse between Lewisham and Bromley, Kent (England), every second or third one was furnished with such a roof.

THE WATER SPIDER.--We extract the following exquisitely beautiful and interesting fact in nature, _connected with diving operations_, from the Rev. Mr. Kirby’s Bridgewater Treatise:--

“The Water Spider is one of the most remarkable upon whom that office (diving) is developed by her Creator. To this end, her instinct instructs her to fabricate a kind of _diving-bell_ in the bosom of that element. She usually selects still waters for this purpose. Her house is an _oval cocoon_, filled with air, and lined with _silk_, from which threads issue in every direction, and are fastened to the surrounding plants; in this cocoon, which is open below, she watches for her prey, and even appears to pass the winter, when she closes the opening. It is most commonly, yet not always, entirely under water; but its inhabitant has filled it with air for her respiration, which enables her to live in it. She conveys the air to it in the following manner: she usually swims upon her back, when her abdomen is enveloped in a bubble of air, and appears like a globe of quicksilver[179]; with this she enters her cocoon, and displacing an equal mass of water, again ascends for a second lading, till she has sufficiently filled her house with it, so as to expel all the water.

“The males construct similar habitations by the same manœuvres. How these little animals can envelope their abdomen with an air-bubble, and retain it till they enter their cells, is still one of Nature’s mysteries that have not been explained.

“We, however, cannot help admiring, and adoring, the wisdom, power, and goodness manifested in this singular provision, enabling an animal that breathes the atmospheric air, to fill her house with it under water, and which has instructed her in a secret art, _by which she can clothe part of her body with air as a garment_, and which she can put off when it answers her purpose.

“This is a kind of attraction and repulsion which mocks all our inquiries.”

[179] Her singular economy was first, we believe, described by Clerck (Aranei Suecici, Stockholm, 1757.), L. M. de Lignac (Mém. des Araign. Aquat., 12mo. Paris, 1799.), and De Geer.

“The shining appearance,” says Clerck, “proceeds either from an inflated globule surrounding the abdomen, or from the space between the body and the water. The spider, when wishing to inhale the air, rises to the surface, with its body still submersed, and only the part containing the spinneret rising just to the surface, when it briskly opens and moves its four teats. A thick coat of hair keeps the water from approaching or wetting the abdomen. It comes up for air about four times an hour or oftener, though I have good reason to suppose it can continue without it for several days together.

“I found in the middle of May one male and ten females, which I put into a glass filled with water, where they lived together very quietly for eight days. I put some duck-weed (_Lemna_) into the glass to afford them shelter, and the females began to stretch diagonal threads in a confused manner from it to the sides of the glass about half way down. Each of the females afterwards fixed a close bag to the edge of the glass, from which the water was expelled by the air from the spinneret, and thus a cell was formed capable of containing the whole animal. Here they remained quietly, with their abdomens in their cells, and their bodies still plunged in the water; and in a short time brimstone-colored bags of eggs appeared in each cell, filling it about a fourth part. On the 7th of July several young ones swam out from one of the bags. All this time the old ones had nothing to eat, _and yet they never attacked one another_, as other spiders would have been apt to do (Clerck, Aranei Suecici, cap. viii.).”

“These spiders,” says De Geer, “spin in the water a cell of strong, _closely woven, white silk_ in the form of half the shell of a pigeon’s egg, or like a diving bell. This is sometimes left partly above water, but at others is entirely submersed, and is always attached to the objects near it by a great number of irregular threads. It is closed all round, but has a large opening below, which, however, I found closed on the 15th of December, and the spider living quietly within, with her head downwards. I made a rent in this cell, and expelled the air, upon which the spider came out; yet though she appeared to have been laid up for three months in her winter quarters, she greedily seized upon an insect and sucked it. I also found that the male as well as the female constructs a similar subaqueous cell, and during summer no less than in winter (De Geer, Mém. des Insectes, vii. 312.).” “We have recently kept one of these spiders,” says Mr. Rennie, “for several months in a glass of water, where it built a cell half under water, in which it laid its eggs.”

Thus it appears, that by the successive descents of the little water-spider under the impulsion of its instinct, produce effects in its subaqueous pavilion equivalent to those produced in the diving-bell, or diving helmet, by the successive strokes of the condensing air-pump of scientific man!

In the language of the book of Psalms, this insect “LAYETH THE BEAMS OF” her “CHAMBERS IN THE WATERS,” and there secures her subaqueous chambers in the manner described.

CLEANLINESS OF SPIDERS.--“When we look at the viscid material,” says Mr. Rennie, “with which spiders construct their lines and webs, and at the rough, hairy covering (with a few exceptions) of their bodies, we might conclude, that they would be always stuck over with fragments of the minute fibres which they produce. This, indeed, must often happen, did they not take careful precautions to avoid it; for we have observed that they seldom, if ever, leave a thread to float at random, except when they wish to form a bridge. When a spider drops along a line, for instance, in order to ascertain the strength of her web, or the nature of the place below her, she invariably, when she re-ascends, coils it up into a little ball, and throws it away. Her claws are admirably adapted for this purpose, as well as for walking along the lines, as may be readily seen by a magnifying glass. Fig. 13. Plate IV. shows the triple-clawed foot of a spider, magnified, the others being toothed like a comb, for gliding along the lines. This structure, however, unfits it to walk, as flies can do, upon any upright polished surface like glass; although the contrary[180] is erroneously asserted by the Abbé de la Pluche. Before she can do so, she is obliged to construct a ladder of ropes, as Mr. Blackwall remarks[181], by elevating her spinneret as high as she can, and laying down a step upon which she stands to form a second; and so on, as any one may try by placing a spider at the bottom of a very clean wine glass.

“The hairs of the legs, however, are always catching bits of web and particles of dust; but these are not suffered to remain long. Most people may have remarked that the house-fly is ever and anon brushing its feet upon one another to rub off the dust, though we have not seen it remarked in authors that spiders are equally assiduous in keeping themselves clean. They have, besides, a very efficient instrument in their mandibles or jaws, which, like their claws, are furnished with teeth; and a spider which appears to a careless observer as resting idly, in nine cases out of ten will be found _slowly combing her legs with her mandibles, beginning as high as possible on the thigh, and passing down to the claws_. The flue which she thus combs off is regularly tossed away.

“With respect to the house-spider (_A. domestica_), we are told in books, that ‘she from time to time clears away the dust from her web, and sweeps the whole by giving it a shake with her paw, so nicely proportioning the force of her blow, that she never breaks any thing[182].’ That spiders may be seen shaking their webs in this manner, we readily admit; though it is not, we imagine, to clear them of dust, but to ascertain whether they are sufficiently sound and strong.

“We recently witnessed a more laborious process of cleaning a web than merely shaking it. On coming down the Maine by the steam-boat from Frankfort, in August 1829, we observed the geometric-net of a conic spider (_Epeira conica_, WALCK.) on the framework of the deck, and as it was covered with flakes of soot from the smoke of the engine, we were surprised to see a spider at work on it; for, in order to be useful, this sort of net must be clean. Upon observing it a little closely, however, we perceived that she was not constructing a net, but dressing up an old one; though not, we must think, to save trouble, so much as an expenditure of material. Some of the lines she dexterously stripped of the flakes of soot adhering to them; but in the greater number, finding that she could not get them sufficiently clean, she broke them quite off, bundled them up, and tossed them over. We counted five of these packets of rubbish which she thus threw away, though there must have been many more, as it was some time before we discovered the manœuvre, the packets being so small as not to be readily perceived, except when placed between the eye and the light. When she had cleared off all the sooted lines, she began to replace them in the usual way; but the arrival of the boat at Mentz put an end to our observations.” Bloomfield, the poet, having observed the disappearance of these bits of ravelled web, says that he observed a garden spider moisten the pellets before swallowing them! Dr. Lister, as we have already seen, thought the spider retracted the threads within the abdomen.

[180] Spectacle de la Nature, i. 58.

[181] Linn. Trans. vol. xv.

[182] Spectacle de la Nature, i. p. 61.

“I could wish,” says Addison, in ‘The Spectator,’ “our Royal Society would compile a body of natural history, the best that could be gathered together from books and observations. If the several writers among them took each his particular species, and gave us a distinct account of its original, birth, and education; its policies, hostilities, and alliances; with the frame and texture of its inward and outward parts,--and particularly those which distinguish it from all other animals,--with their aptitudes for the state of being in which Providence has placed them; it would be one of the best services their studies could do mankind, and not a little redound to the glory of the All-wise Creator.”--‘Spectator,’ No. iii.

Although we do not consider Addison as a naturalist, in any of the usual meanings of the term, yet it would be no easy task, even for those who have devoted their undivided attention to the subject, to improve upon the admirable plan of study here laid down. It is, moreover, so especially applicable to the investigation of insects, that it may be more or less put in practice by any person who chooses, in whatever station or circumstances he happens to be placed. Nay, we will go farther; for since it agrees with experience and many recorded instances that individuals have been enabled to investigate and elucidate particular facts, who were quite unacquainted with systematic natural history, we hold it to be undeniable, that _any person of moderate penetration, though altogether unacquainted with what is called “Natural History_,” who will take the trouble to observe particular facts and endeavor to trace them to their causes, has every chance to be successful in adding to his own knowledge, and frequently in making discoveries of what was previously unknown. It is related of M. Pélissan, while a prisoner in the Bastille, that he tamed a spider by means of music. This in conjunction with Evelyn’s observations on hunting-spiders is strong proof of our position, and show that though books are often of high value to guide us in our observations, they are by no means indispensable to the study of nature, inasmuch as the varied scene of creation itself forms an inexhaustible book, which “even he who runneth may read.”

“It will be of the utmost importance, in the study here recommended, to bear in mind that an insect can never be found in any situation, nor make any movement, without some motive, originating in the instinct imparted to it by Providence. This principle alone, when it is made the basis of inquiry into such motives or instincts, will be found productive of many interesting discoveries, which, without it, might never be made. With this, indeed, exclusively in view, during an excursion, and with a little attention and perseverance, every walk--nay, every step--may lead to delightful and interesting knowledge.”--“INSECT ARCHITECTURE,” p. 219.