figured (Tegenaria domestica), changes its integument, or skin, nine times before arriving at maturity, once in the cocoon and eight times after quitting it. If they lose a leg it is quickly reproduced, and this may take place half a dozen times in succession. Mr. Wood says, indeed, that "the harvest-spider seems to set little store by its legs, and will throw off one or two of them on the slightest provocation. Indeed, it is not very easy to find a harvest-spider with all its limbs complete; and, if such a being should be captured, it is nearly certain to shed a leg or two during the process. It appears to be totally indifferent to legs, and will walk off quite briskly with only half its usual complement of limbs. I have even known this arachnid to be deprived of all its legs save one, and to edge itself along by this solitary member, in a manner sufficiently ludicrous. The cast legs contain much irritability, and, even after they have been severed from the body, continue to bend and straighten themselves for some little time." The household spider above referred to lives four years; and the female, after one impregnation, is capable of producing nine sets of prolific eggs in succession, more than two years elapsing before all are deposited.
Morally, the spider has a bad reputation, and is the subject of many vile epithets; but, when compared with its accusers, it presents by no means a bad case. The Arachnidian ethics are in many respects strikingly coincident with more ambitious systems. The spider practises the virtues of industry, patience, and perseverance, under difficulties. The female is an affectionate parent, and very fond of her young. About June the garden-spider makes up her little packet of eggs, and encloses them in a snow-white silken envelope, and carries it about with her wherever she goes. If it is forcibly removed, she remains on the spot, hunting in every direction, and evidently in great distress; and if the white ball be laid near her she soon spies it, darts at it almost fiercely, and carries it off. "When the time comes for the little spiders to make their appearance in the world, the mother tears open the envelope, and so aids her young to escape. As soon as they are fairly out of the egg, they transfer themselves to the body of their parent, where they cling in such numbers that she is hardly visible under her swarming brood. They remain with their mother through the winter, and in the following spring the bonds of mutual affection are loosened, and the young disperse to seek their own living." If the spider is a skilful hunter and an ingenious trapper, so are the heroes of many novels; but the animal has not yet been known to indulge its predaceous practices in the way of mere wanton sport. It is merciless and cruel, like inquisitors and tyrants, but does not perpetrate its cruelties on the ground of difference of opinions. It is moved by self-interest, the alleged basis of all political economy. The spider "must live, you know," and it is a maxim with it to "look out for number one;" while it has a high appreciation of the advantages of "corner lots," but in all this it is by no means singular. Besides, the