Imatges de pàgina
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I had seen his home completed without being made any the wiser by his information. Seeing me a little piqued, he smiled as only a spider can, and proceeded to make amends for his impoliteness before. He told me that he was going to spin a staircase, by which he could ascend and descend with still greater rapidity, and that then he intended spinning several threads from the bottom of his air-cell to the branches and leaves near his home, to act as telegraph wires, by informing him of the approach of any booty or danger. By these threads he would be able to run hither and thither after his prey, and easily secure it. If he felt hungry, he said, he generally carried his victims to his home, but if otherwise he secured them by threads outside, as a supply to fall back upon in case of a dearth in the water.

I was certainly very much pleased with my amphibious friend, and not a little proud when he earnestly besought me to occupy one of these airy prison cells with him. I had to refuse, however; not that I had any objections to him as a mate for life, but I did object to his style of living. And let me here say that I have seen young women refuse on the same score, but with feelings of proud disdain which afterwards changed into those of just regret. Others have accepted a course of life as foreign to their natures as this would have been to me, only to regret the choice when it was impossible to unsay it, just because they would not listen to the words of reason and judgment, but allowed their shifting feelings to lead the van.

But the best of friends must part. The gnawings of hunger reminded me that I had to go, so with a hearty good-bye I continued my wanderings, as if I were a branded child of Cain; and, like a near descendant of Ishmael, I resolved to wage warfare against all those who would unjustly condemn our race as ugly, brutal, and vile.

Not knowing where to go, I resolved to make the noonday sun my guiding star, and so travelled towards the south. Whilst on my long pilgrimage, I was induced on one occasion, through sheer curiosity, to enter a cave somewhere in Southern Europe. To my surprise, I found some spiders living in the perpetual twilight, with frail, delicate, and almost colourless bodies. What struck me the most was that their eyes were very imperfectly developed, showing how nature.

can adapt itself to circumstances. Further in, where the daylight never enters, and nothing but night prevails, I found some of my race, totally blind, eking out a precarious living, having long, slender, colourless bodies, and hairy feet which formed delicate organs of touch. This seemed to me to be another instance of the law of compensation, where the want of sight is counterbalanced by the sensitive feelers which those of us who can see do not possess. They seemed happy and contented, however; but it was with a sigh of relief that I gazed on the pure light of heaven once more, for what was their safety was my misery, and what is my delight would be their ruin.

Leaving the cave spiders to pursue their unenviable lot, I continued my rambles southward, and after a time came into the warm, balmy breezes of the torrid zone, where everything grows with wonderful luxuriance, and a profusion of all things is scattered around.

Of course I cannot describe the beauty of the torrid zone I can only speak of friends I made during my wanderings there, which extended over many years. I found many tribes of the spider race, some of whom were giants in size and strength compared with my own family. I was perfectly astonished at the magnitude and resistance of their webs. In Mexico they are so strong that if a traveller strikes his hat against one hanging above his path it will knock it off. They entangle not only flies and moths, but butterflies; and even small birds have been caught in their enormous meshes. In Senegal they will bear the weight of several ounces, and some people make good ropes of these giant threads. In the island of Java the people often use a knife to cut them out of the way, when, if they had any sense of justice and compassion, they would pass them by.

As an instance of this, let me relate what I saw out in one of the prairies of the Western States.* Amongst a tangle of vines thickly interspersed with myriads of flowers, a number of ruby-breasted humming-birds were gaily flitting. All at once I saw one of my jumping cousins-called leaping spiders-coming, crouching and crawling, sideways and every way, now hiding himself and now making short springs from one object

*Howitt's "Boy Hunters."

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to another. He was a horrid-looking creature, I must say, covered with dark brown hair, and about the size of one of the humming-birds before him. His sharp, glittering eyes and his two great claws before him gave him a noble appearance, and I pitied the pretty little birds from my heart, who appeared so guileless and yet so careless of danger. Onward he came, watching his opportunities until one of them flew within his reach-then, when the unsuspecting victim was hovering over a flower, with its head deep down amongst its lovely petals, my cousin made a spring that terrified me, and clasped the ruby breast with his great feelers. With a wild, despairing chirrup, the poor bird flew away aloft, trying to carry its destroyer with it. But the great strong thread of my jumping relative was a chain to freedom, even as his great jaws were daggers for the heart. The untimely flight soon ceased, for one end of the thread was fastened to a tree, and as he held the other it rapidly brought his victim to the earth. The little wings forgot to move, and the hungry pincers of my cousin were soon deep in, hidden beneath the ruby breast of his lifeless victim.

Mankind has pronounced this horrible, but I look upon the trampling of a worm in the dust as wanton cruelty surpassing this. Suppose I were to become a reformer of this so-called bloodthirstiness in our race, and convene an Ecumenical Council, with delegates from the uttermost bounds of spiderdom, what could be more appropriate than that I should repeat to them these lines with deep feeling and solemnity ?—

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his skin, or the leopard his spots?" what could I say?

Another feature of my equatorial relations is their gorgeous colours. O, how insignificant and ugly I appeared compared with some of the epeiras of the Philippine Islands with whom I associated! I have heard of a deer admiring his antlers in the'water, and have seen many a conceited fop and foolish maiden loving their shadow in the glass; but when I saw my dirty brown, hairy, wrinkled body reflected in one side of a calabash of water, with my Philippine neighbour on the other, I felt as mean as if I had been stealing. Many of them are striped alternately with red, yellow, and black; whilst others have white figures on a red background. Some are orange, marbled with brown; others are light green, with white; others yellow, with light brown festoons marked upon them; and many are ash-coloured, with chesnut bodies. These colours, traced in every kind of hieroglyphic upon their gigantic bodies, beautifies, or rather illuminates these gay friends of mine only whilst they live. Their beauty dies with them. As I gazed on one of the most gorgeous, lying on a palm leaf, and ebbing his life-blood away; as I saw the light fade out from his eye, and the rainbow tints from his noble frame, I felt more reconciled to my lot, and could appreciate the old maid's comforting proverb :—

"Beauty's skin deep; Ugly's to the bone. Beauty soon fades; but Ugly holds its own."

I soon noticed that our Creator had a design in all this. The Philippines have their colour as their protection. Those who live in dark, dingy places would appear far too conspicuous if they were dressed in livid purple or sky-blue or scarlet; their darkcoloured and sombre garbs are in accordance with their habits and homes. My old brown fustian jacket is good for all kinds of weather and for almost every style of living, so that for another reason I am quite reconciled to my lot. Those with beautiful marks of black, yellow, green, and orange live amongst the flowers and evergreen foliage of the trees. So with the others. Their colour indicates where their homes should be. I was very much amused one day when I heard and saw something that terrified a number of them. The sombre ones ran

over the black sticks and earth; the brown ones crouched on withered leaves; and the green ones fled for refuge under the leaves of the nearest flower. This instinct, with us, is as reason and intelligence with

man.

tribe called the Migdales interested me very much. Migdale Blondii is the name of the largest. Five inches in length is about the average proportion of this family. The friend with whom I associated was covered with brownish-black hair, and his legs encircled a space of more than half a foot in diameter. His long feelers had sharp hooks provided, by which he could inflict terrible wounds upon the hapless victims that fell a lawful prey to his rapacious appetite. Although sombre in appearance, he was by no means sober in his actions. He did not spin his yarn, nor weave an airy web to be shattered by every breeze. I considered him one of the wise men of the East—a wiseacre of spiderdom both from his appearance and actions. His black suit, which in some cases has a faded and threadbare look, gave him a sort of professorial appearance, and his sharp, business-like manner spoke plainly of jobbing wanted or work on hand to be done. He had a kind of funereal look about him. He remained most of the time in the houses of the natives, running about here, there, and everywhere. White people never took kindly to my friend Migdale Blondii. His erratic movements terrified the nervous and timid, for he was in, out, and about all the trunks, boxes, and bandboxes that the foreigners possessed. They had a wholesome dread of him, because they imagined that with one leap and a slender bite he would send them into another world. But Migdale the Great is not able to accomplish such a feat, for in cases where he has bitten men the inflammation has not greatly exceeded that of a wasp or a mosquito.

In the West Indies the natives are glad to have this tribe in their dwellings, and if they have none they go where they can buy them. I wish the same good sense would actuate the people who live in temperate climates. Tidy housewiveshate us with a perfect hatred, and yet cannot understand why the flies are so numerous. I was in a house in the Southern States which was kept as clean and careful as need be. The lady could not see where all the cockroaches came from, and

at the same time waged war against the best means for their riddance. If I had had a human voice when she, with a large negress and a coloured boy, was hunting two Migdales to the death, I should have said, "Woman, spare these spiders. Such heartless cruelty will meet with its own reward. These Migdales are as harmless as I am, and their chief object in coming beneath your inhospitable roof is to extirpate these cockroaches which are so troublesome to you."

Another family of the Migdales displays a wonderful degree of ingenuity in constructing strongholds for times of danger. I got caught in one, and felt under deep obligations to my big brother for his gallantry and skill. I had been noticed by a ravenous bird, and would most certainly have been captured if, in my endeavour to hide, I had not espied a round hole neatly constructed, and about nine inches in depth. The wall was lined with a coarse tissue, but the innermost was like silken paper, velvety and white. In a few minutes a dark figure appeared at the entrance, and the builder and occupant descended. Mutual recognitions having taken place, he let down what appeared to be a lid, and enveloped us in total darkness. This contrivance I greatly admired, as it seemed to be planned with almost human ingenuity. It is made of particles of earth cemented with silken thread, and of course looks exactly like the ground. A silken hinge joins it to the upper side of the hole, so that when it is raised it shuts again of its own accord. To make it more secure, a few little holes are drilled in the lid opposite the hinge on the under side. The Migdales, being furnished with hooks at the end of their feelers, insert them into these holes, and thus bolt and bar their fortresses against any intruder. Scripture is thus literally fulfilled when it says, "The spider taketh hold with her hands."

There is one grand characteristic that ought to be a redeeming feature when the habits of the spider are considered, and that is a mother's love for its offspring, than which nothing on earth can be stronger. The love of mothers among mankind has been known to fail, but that of the spider, never. True to its instinct, it would rather sacrifice its own life for the preservation of its young, than basely desert them to their fate.

In Paraguay the thread of some of the spiders is spun into silken fabrics. About the beginning of the last century a Frenchman named M. Bon undertook to weave some of our threads into cloth. He made some stockings and gloves of what he had collected, and presented them to the King, Louis XIV., and the Academy of Paris. It caused quite a sensation, and what he wrote on the subject was even translated into the Chinese language by the Emperor's command. But the bubble soon burst. To succeed, we should indeed have been spared from motives of greed and not of kindness, but being deprived of our webs, who or what would have been able to give us the flies our appetites demand.

I rejoice that my own thread has never brought gain to man, but to the sufferer it has often given relief. It has staunched the bleeding wound, and indirectly has been the means of saving many from an untimely grave.

And now I must conclude; my seventh web has been spun. I fervently hope I

have done good by my simple recital of past events,-this good at least, that by endeavouring to show that we are not cruel by nature, and that we do not seek to entrap the thoughtless flies for the gratification of our savage propensities, the minds of the higher creation may be more kindly disposed towards us than before.

"See yonder web with dew-drops laden,
Surpassing all the skill of man ;
No tried expert, no gentle maiden,
Ever wove as spiders can.

"See yonder noble insect mother,

Dying for her offspring's life;
Can lordly man produce another,-
Maid or matron, mother, wife?
"O brand us not with every passion

Lurking in the human breast!
We live like every other nation,
Doing God's supreme behest.

"Then let us be at peace together,

Holding sacred Nature's ties; Till power Divine these bonds shall sever; And now adieu,-Arachne dies."

CHANGE.

ΤΗ

HE river swiftly rushing, with a strong exultant sweep;
A dewy morning flushing, and half the world asleep.
I sit, and wait for my love,

He called me his "fair fond dove,"

Only last night, by the river.

A noon sun brightly glowing, on the orchard's waving mass; A warm wind softly throwing, apple blooms on the grass.

Oh! my love and I are glad,

Never more can earth be sad

For us, by the dancing river.

A chill mist slowly creeping, under the shuddering sky;
The rain clouds wildly weeping, oppress me, as I cry
Oh! my love, is this thy grave?

Where the rushes slowly wave,

By the careless, cruel river.

Quebec.

M. B.

CURRENT EVENTS.

N English doctor, who has hitherto de

scraps from old newspapers and do not

A lighted himself with experiments on intend to do so now, but of one thing we are

living animals, confessed with apparent nonchalance that he had, in one day, tortured twenty-nine dogs by administering various poisons, endermically and otherwise, with a view of ascertaining the effect of these agents in stimulating the secretion of bile. It is fortunate that in Toronto we can ascertain the effect of certain moral appliances on the party politician, without vivisection or dissection post mortem. The public addresses of Sir Alexander Galt, delivered here about the beginning of last month, have had a marked effect in deranging the functions of sensitive party livers. They have, in fact, rendered the hack politician jaundiced and atrabilious. It is, of course, to be deplored that Sir Alexander did not keep himself to himself, or at least to the Province in which he ordinarily resides. As the Globe agonizingly inquires, "Let us ask him why he does not take his counsels where they are most needed?" Why indeed? Everything is snug in Ontario between Archbishop Lynch and his organ; why then throw the apple of discord amongst the celestials-Presbyterian and Catholic?

It seems that is to superficial observers -never to have occurred to the organ that the control of about sixty members of the House at Ottawa by the hierarchy is of some moment to the people of Toronto and of Ontario altogether. Is it not a serious prospect, looming up in the not very distant future, that a little over forty time-servers may manage the entire Dominion, if they will only be subservient to the Bishops of Quebec? Has this Province nothing to do with hierarchical interference with freedom of election in the Province only second to it in importance? The Globe is aware of the danger, but is content to ignore it, so long as it can reap its paltry party advantage. There was a time at which that journal indulged in the vilest language, when referring to the ecclesiastics and "religious" of the Roman Catholic Church, and especially those of Irish nationality. Its opinions have undergone no change; but its position and prospects have. We are not fond of retailing

sure, that if the dangers pointed out by Sir Alexander Galt should be allowed to pass unheeded by the people of Ontario, as the Globe desires, and if Mr. Brown ever finds the Quebec men at Ottawa a phalanx against his party, the wrath and billingsgate of 1853-5 will be as the zephyr to the roar of a blast furnace. In that event, his patron, the Archbishop, will have found other protégés, and the game of scurrilous vituperation will be the fashion of the hour. For the present, the barometer is at "set fair" and the best thing the average "Reformer" can do is to nail it there; for if left to atmospheric influences alone it will soon veer about to less agreeable quarters.

Party coquetry with religious denominations is, of all forms of intrigue, the most intolerable and heinous. There is much talk about the evil of coalitions, and the sin of purchasing sectional or class support; but they are venial offences in comparison. At this moment, both parties are vieing with each other in soliciting the favours of the hierarchy in Ontario and Quebec. Their high-flown Protestantism and even their boasted love of free institutions have oozed, like Bob Acres's courage, out at their fingers' ends. Dr. Abbott says that Bacon's moral delinquencies were caused by his losing sight of everything but the great philosophical aim of his life; but for them no such apology can be proffered. To them country is as nothing, when weighed in the balances against party, place, and pelf. Henry of Navarre might have plausibly excused his apostasy on patriotic grounds; no excuse of the kind can be seriously pleaded for them. Whether we look at the complacency with which the " Programme" was received by the Conservatives, or the shameless compact made, and broken, with the Catholic League in Ontario, by the Reformers, there can be no pleasure in the retrospect. In both cases, the manoeuvre was a bit of party strategya mere matter of bargain and sale. Those who were not ashamed to offer a quasi apology for the Pilgrimage riots of last autumn, are harking back, for obvious reasons; and

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