without suffering much inconvenience. Generally, the Scorpion was dead in a few minutes after the wound was inflicted.

MANY of the true spiders are among the burrowers, and, even in our own country, it is possible to see a sandy bank studded with their silk-lined tunnels.

There is such a bank that skirts a fir-wood near my house, the material being the loosest possible sandstone, scarcely hard enough in any place to resist a pinch between the fingers and thumb. About an inch or two above the soil, this sandstone is quite excavated by the spiders, and as the sandy sides of their tunnels would fall in were they not supported in some manner, every tunnel accordingly is lined by a coating of tough webbing, very strong, very elastic, very porous, and yet not suffering one particle of sand to pass through its interstices. From the opening of each burrow a web is spread, looking very much like a casting-net, with a hole through its middle. From this, again, radiate a number of separate threads, which extend to a considerable distance from the entrance.

At the very bottom of its silken tunnel the living architect lies concealed, its sensitive feet resting on the web, so that it is enabled to perceive the approach of the smallest insect that crosses the spot which it has so elaborately fortified. It is curious to watch the various insects that are caught by different species of spiders. The common garden spider (Epeira diadema) enjoys the greatest variety of diet, and the water spider, of which we shall see something in a future page, is also capable of varying its food to a considerable extent. The Burrowing Spiders, however, of which there are several species, are much restricted in their diet, the chief food that is found in their webs consisting of small beetles and midges. These spiders belong to the family Agelenidæ.

ONE of the best, if not indeed the very best, examples of the British burrowing Arachnida is the remarkable species Atypus Sulzeri, a creature which is so rare as to have received no English name. It is a small species, not half an inch in length, but it is a curiously-constructed being; and were it made on a larger scale, would be a really formidable species. Its jaws are long, sharply pointed, and remarkably stout at their bases-so stout, indeed, that, but for a remarkable adaptation of structure, it would not be able to see any thing in front.

None of these spiders have a separate head, that part of the body and the thorax being fused together, and forming what is called by naturalists a "cephalothorax," i. e. a head-thorax. The same structure may be observed in the scorpion, and also in the common lobster, the shrimp, and other crustacea. The eyes, as in all spiders, are rather close together, and are placed upon the upper part of this cephalothorax; but so large are the bases of the jaws, that they rise far above the level of the cephalothorax: and if the eyes were placed in the ordinary manner, would act like the "blind" that is hung over the eyes of a bad-tempered bull. In order, however, to enable the spider to see objects in its front, a sort of little turret rises from the cephalothorax, and on its summit are placed the eyes. Naturalists familiarly call this projection the "watch-tower."

This spider inhabits moist situations, and burrows into the banks, the direction of the burrow being at first horizontal and then sloping downward. It is lined with a remarkably compact silken tube, beautifully white, and about half an inch in diameter. The upper part of the tube is rather larger than the lower, and projects from the earth, falling forward so as to form a flap, which protects the mouth of the burrow. Specimens of this remarkable spider have been obtained from several parts of England.

NEARLY one hundred and fifty years ago, Sibilla Merian published her famous account of the insects of Surinam, wherein are several statements that were first received without scruple, afterward doubted, and finally disbelieved. The most important of these controverted statements was that in which she mentioned that the gigantic spiders of Surinam caught the humming-birds, killed them, and sucked all the juices out of their bodies. This statement appeared to be of so wild a character, that naturalists might well be pardoned for refusing credit to it, especially as Madame Merian did not offer herself as an eye-witness, but merely related the story on the authority of the natives.

There is certainly nothing in the comparative sizes of the two creatures which would render such a feat impossible, for the spider has a body nearly as large as that of a sparrow, and its expanse of limb is seven or eight inches, while the humming-bird is scarcely bigger than the common humble-bee of our gardens and fields. Still it did seem so strange that a spider should attack a

bird, that, failing a credible eye-witness, the story was not believed. That want, however, has been recently supplied, for Mr. H. W. Bates, who spent eleven years upon the banks of the Amazon River, has been an eye-witness to the murder of a small bird by a great spider, and the question is now finally set at rest.

"In the course of our walk, I chanced to verify a fact relating to the habit of a large hairy spider, belonging to the genus My. gale, in a manner worth recording. The species was M. avicularia, or one very closely allied to it; the individual was nearly two inches in length of body, but the legs expanded seven inches, and the entire body and hair were covered with coarse gray and reddish hairs. I was attracted by a movement of the monster on a tree-trunk; it was close beneath a deep crevice in the tree, across which was stretched a dense white web. The lower part of the web was broken, and two small birds, finches, were entangled in the pieces. They were about the size of the English siskin, and I judged the two to be male and female. One of them was quite dead, and the other lay under the body of the spider, not quite dead, and was smeared with the filthy liquor or saliva exuded by the monster. I drove away the spider, and took the birds, but the second one soon died. . . . I found the circumstance to be quite a novelty to the residents hereabout."

One of these spiders, kindly presented to me by Mr. Bates, is now before me, and after examining the terrible fangs as they lie folded under the head, and the enormous power of the long, clinging legs, I believe that a small bird would stand a very poor chance of life if once entangled in the fatal clutch. There are several species of Mygale, some of which are great burrowers, making holes of considerable depth. One species, Mygale Blondii, which is easily known by the yellow stripes which run down its limbs, is an admirable burrower, digging tunnels of two feet in depth, and rather wide, and lining them with a silken coating, so as to prevent the earth from falling in. In the evening, the spider may be seen at the mouth of its hole, evidently watching surrounding events, but as soon as it perceives an approaching footstep, it pops back into the dark recesses of the tunnel, and will not make its appearance for some time afterward. Others live under stones; and others, again, make their dens in the thatched roofs of houses. The natives do not seem to entertain any feelings of abhorrence toward these creatures, which to a European mind are so repulsive; for Mr. Bates once saw a group of children

amusing themselves with a gigantic Mygale, which they had secured by tying a string round its waist, and were leading about as if it had been a dog.

While living, the Mygale sheds its hairs very easily; and as these hairs penetrate the skin and are of a painfully irritant character, like those of the palmer-worm and other British caterpillars, the incautious naturalist is apt to buy his experience of the Mygale rather dearly. The natives call these creatures "Aranhas carangueijeiras," or Crab Spiders, because they are so strong and so large.

SEVERAL large spiders that live mostly upon the ground are confounded together under the general name of Tarantula. There is scarcely a part of the world where is not found some great Lycosa, or Wolf Spider, that is popularly called by the dreaded name of Tarantula, and feared lest its bite should produce the disease which was once so rife through Europe, and called Tarantismus. These are all more or less burrowers, and line their tunnels with a silken coating, so as to prevent the earth from falling in upon them. Some of them hunt about after prey, while others sit at the entrance of the den and wait for the approach of any passing insect, which they may seize and devour at their leisure in the safe retreat of the neighboring burrow. In this tunnel their young are hatched, and, as soon as they can struggle themselves free from the egg, they clamber upon their mother's back, and there cling in heavy clusters, often hiding her shape by their numbers.

One species of spider that goes by the name of Tarantula is resident in Siberia, and hides in holes in the ground. The peasantry are greatly afraid of it, fancying that it will bite them, and that its bite will cause great injury. For their terrors there are really some grounds, inasmuch as the spider is a savage kind of creature; and if a knife be pushed into its den, it will rush out in a fury, and try to bite the blade. In all probability, however, it is not very venomous, for it is actually eaten by sheep as they graze.

Of all the burrowing spiders, however, none is so admirable an excavator as the TRAP-DOOR SPIDER of Jamaica, and none displays so much ingenuity in the arrangement of its burrow. Specimens of both the tunnel and the spider are now before me, and

it is impossible to inspect them without admiration. When removed from the earth which surrounded it, the silken tube is seen to be double, the outer portion being thick, deeply stained of a ruddy brown, and separated into a great number of flakes, lying loosely upon each other. This outer covering is so thick, harsh, and crumpled, that it looks more like the rough bark of a tree than a spider's web, and its true nature would hardly be recognized even by the touch. The exterior of a common wasp's nest bears some resemblance to this part of the tube. Beneath this covering is an inner layer of a very different character. This is uniformly smooth to the eye, and of a silken softness to the touch. It is but slightly adherent in places to the outer tube, and can be separated without any difficulty and without injuring the one or the other.

The texture of the interior surface is quite unlike that of the inner or outer tube, being nearly white, and of a smoothness and consistency much resembling the rough and unsized paper on which Continental books are usually printed. It is curiously stiff also, and is so formed that no one who saw it for the first time would be likely to guess at its real character. The microscope, however, reveals its true character at once. If the interior of the tube be submitted to a moderately low power, say from thirty to forty diameters, a curious sight is presented to the observer. The surface looks like very rough felt, covered with little prominences, and composed of threads twisted together without the least apparent order. The threads are very coarse, in comparison to ordinary spider-web, and seem to be stiff, as if covered with size or gum.

The entrance of the tube is guarded by the "trap-door," from which the spider takes its name. This is a flap of the same substance as the tube, circular in shape, so as to fit the orifice with perfect accuracy, and attached to the tube by a tolerably wide hinge, so that when it closes it does not fall to either side, but comes true and fair upon the opening which it defends. The inner surface of the trap-door is white and felt-like, and exactly resembles the interior of the tube, but its outer surface is covered with earth, taken from the soil in which the hole is dug. As the trap-door is flush with the surface of the ground, it is evident that, when it is closed, all traces of the burrow and its inhabitant are lost.

The spider is urged by a curious instinct to make its tunnel in