itself. This last circumstance, which seems to have been calculated
by the industrious Spider, lends itself admirably to the necessary
extension of the legs at the moment when the prey is to be seized. The
shaft is composed mainly of bits of dry wood joined by a little clay
and so artistically laid, one above the other, that they form the
scaffolding of a straight column, the inside of which is a hollow
cylinder. The solidity of this tubular building, of this outwork, is
ensured above all by the fact that it is lined, upholstered within,
with a texture woven by the Lycosa's {3} spinnerets and continued
throughout the interior of the burrow. It is easy to imagine how
useful this cleverly-manufactured lining must be for preventing
landslip or warping, for maintaining cleanliness and for helping her
claws to scale the fortress.

'I hinted that this outwork of the burrow was not there invariably; as
a matter of fact, I have often come across Tarantulas' holes without a
trace of it, perhaps because it had been accidentally destroyed by the
weather, or because the Lycosa may not always light upon the proper
building-materials, or, lastly, because architectural talent is
possibly declared only in individuals that have reached the final
stage, the period of perfection of their physical and intellectual
development.

'One thing is certain, that I have had numerous opportunities of
seeing these shafts, these out-works of the Tarantula's abode; they
remind me, on a larger scale, of the tubes of certain Caddis-worms.
The Arachnid had more than one object in view in constructing them:
she shelters her retreat from the floods; she protects it from the
fall of foreign bodies which, swept by the wind, might end by
obstructing it; lastly, she uses it as a snare by offering the Flies