Suppose a and b to represent the lines respectively. The spinning done, she hurried to the middle of line a, at which point a new line was fastened by the end. Having satisfied herself with this, she moved up the third side of the cage, still retaining the new line.

The most interesting part of her performance was now to be noted: when the line was carried to its full length, it was pulled a little, causing line a below to bend, on the same principle as a bow with its string and arrow. The line, which she held, stood at an angle of ten degrees with the third perpendicular side of the cage.

Next, the line was let go, and being newly spun and therefore still wet, it retained its elasticity, and sprang, sending its end obliquely downwards. Here the line lay on the floor of the cage, under the parallel lines a and b that were three inches above the floor.

Newly spun threads are naturally sticky. Well, here this line adhered to the parallel lines at the points where it touched them. The slow work ended finally with a firm bridge running across between the lines. That was due to the rare faculties of the spider, for she evidently recognized the advantages arising from the lightness and elasticity of the thread. The line sprang because of its elasticity, and it ascended because of its light

ness.

THE SPIDER'S JUDGMENT.

To test the judgment of the spider, a fly, twice the size of the spider, was let into the cage. The spider seemed to recognize the strength of her foe; for the latter, when it got on its legs, whirled against the sides of the cage, and wholly destroyed the threads of the web with little difficulty. Now the spider saw that any further use of her silky thread would be of no avail; nevertheless, she stationed herself nearest to the struggling fly and hesitated there for a few moments.

She seemed to say to herself: "O that my silky thread were only thick and durable! What can I do toward capturing him? If I could only exhaust him; but I have no means to do it. My thread is about as good as nothing." Now she moved slowly to a corner and remained there quietly for a while.

It was noticed that the fly, instead of buzzing round and round inside the cage, flirted against a certain side repeatedly. This the spider must have perceived; for now she dashed from the corner and sped to the floor of the cage, on which was lying a piece of a thread thicker and more durable than her own. In fact, it was the remaining thread of a large spider that once occupied the cage.

The little spider hurried now up the side against which the fly was repeatedly whirling, carrying

this piece of waste thread. The thread was then suspended on this side, and the fly got entangled in it every time that he whirled against it. As often as he broke away, he got entangled in it again. And now his fate was not far off. His strength was at the point of giving way, as shown by the decrease of his resistance. At length the scene closed with the little spider rejoicing over her final victory.

What made her take up that waste thread? Why did she not use her own thread? Why did she suspend the thread on that certain side instead of elsewhere? The simple answer is, because she had judgment.

THE SPIDER'S KNOWLEDGE OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.

The idea of attempting to prove a spider's knowledge of natural philosophy by induction or inference might seem rather absurd; for to know that branch of science some intelligence is required; but it cannot be denied when observation itself has proved it.

If a body is pulled perpendicularly upward, its whole weight will evidently rest on this line. Again, if this same body is pulled obliquely, it is evident that only a part of the whole weight is felt. The farther from the vertical line the body is pulled, the less its weight will be felt. This

very fact has penetrated the mind of the spider. Very often spiders have met the difficulty of elevating bodies which demand more power to raise them than that possessed by a single spider, sometimes even more than that of an army of them.

A house-spider was once known to have raised a June-bug, several times her own weight, to a height of twelve inches. All through the work, the law of inclination was observed, all accomplished with the aid of only three lines.

To explain its work, let a, b, and c be the three lines. Let d represent the body to be elevated. The figure illustrating the process appears in the shape of a triangle, with its apex down; the left side is a, the right side b, the perpendicular c, and the apex is d. Now to elevate d to the desired height, lines a, b, and c are pulled repeatedly one after the other.

The perpendicular line does not help in raising the weight. Perhaps it is constructed that, in case either a or b is broken, it will assist in preventing the weight from dropping.

THE SPIDER'S CRUEL AND SELFISH NATURE.

Love is wholly unfamiliar to spiders. There is no instance of their showing feelings of love and kindness to each other. In fact, an insect other than of their own class seems no more of a stranger

to them than they themselves seem to each other. The absence of these qualities may account for their frequent attacks upon those belonging to the same class.

It has been argued by some naturalists that as it is in the case of cannibals, spider flesh has proved to be most delicious to spiders themselves. It is not of rare occurrence to see two spiders accidentally meeting each other. This meeting usually results in the death of one and the victory of the other. As a rule, the stronger attacks the weaker. They seem to depend upon size for their strength; as in a meeting the smaller is always sure to flee before his attacker shows any fight.

The fact that spiders have a liking for the flesh of insects of their own class has been proved by imprisoning a large-sized spider in a cage several days without food. At the end of this time two flies were thrown into the cage; the result was, the spider remained almost motionless, even when the flies risked themselves so far as to repose in the neighborhood of the spider's legs.

Next, a lean spider was substituted for the flies. Miraculously, the big fighter now regained its activity, and directed itself against the little thing. Of course the unfortunate little spider before long found itself reduced to a skeleton. This experiment proves that spiders have a preference for the flesh of their own class.