THE SONG OF THE ANGELS.
213
All around this aviary were traps baited with different kinds of things. The traps themselves were made of something as fine as thread; in fact, when I entered the wood, I found myself entangled in the net, which twisted round my head, arms, and feet. I found it spread all over the entrance of the wood, finer than a spider's web, yet stronger than wire, so that I was some time before I could free myself. Now the traps, I say, round the aviary, were made of this same material, so strong that it could not be broken, and at the same time so thin that it could hardly be seen.
