All the above description, exaggerated as it may seem, is merely
preliminary to the introduction of one single enormous spider, the
biggest and ugliest ever seen, the pride of the grim Doctor's heart,
his treasure, his glory, the pearl of his soul, and, as many people
said, the demon to whom he had sold his salvation, on condition of
possessing the web of the foul creature for a certain number of years.
The grim Doctor, according to this theory, was but a great fly which
this spider had subtly entangled in his web. But, in truth, naturalists
are acquainted with this spider, though it is a rare one; the British
Museum has a specimen, and, doubtless, so have many other scientific
institutions. It is found in South America; its most hideous spread of
legs covers a space nearly as large as a dinner-plate, and radiates
from a body as big as a door-knob, which one conceives to be an
agglomeration of sucked-up poison which the creature treasures through
life; probably to expend it all, and life itself, on some worthy foe.
Its colors, variegated in a sort of ugly and inauspicious splendor,
were distributed over its vast bulb in great spots, some of which
glistened like gems. It was a horror to think of this thing living;
still more horrible to think of the foul catastrophe, the crushed-out
and wasted poison, that would follow the casual setting foot upon it.

No doubt, the lapse of time since the Doctor and his spider lived has
already been sufficient to cause a traditionary wonderment to gather
over them both; and, especially, this image of the spider dangles down
to us from the dusky ceiling of the Past, swollen into somewhat uglier
and huger monstrosity than he actually possessed. Nevertheless, the
creature had a real existence, and has left kindred like himself; but
as for the Doctor, nothing could exceed the value which he seemed to
put upon him, the sacrifices he made for the creature's convenience, or
the readiness with which he adapted his whole mode of life, apparently,