voyage in the Beagle. He says: "The little aëronaut, as soon as it arrived on board, was very active, running about, sometimes letting itself fall, then reascending the same thread. It could run with facility on the surface of the water."
In the bright autumn weather, if we observe closely, we may sometimes see some of our own small spiders ascend to the tops of trees, fences, and other high objects, rise on their toes, turn the spinners upward, throw out a quantity of silk, and sail away. They can be seen plentifully any fine day in October or November, before the cold weather, on Boston Common. They grasp the silken thread with their feet and seem to be enjoying themselves as much as the birds and butterflies.
Many instances are recorded of music-loving spiders, perhaps the most interesting being that related by Beethoven's biographer, who says: "A spider weaving its skillful though delicate trap for its daily dinner worked industriously in the corner of the ceiling until Beethoven began to play. Beethoven, who at that time had
not thousands hanging on his baton, was rather pleased and attached to this listener, which most practically proved the value it attached to the performance by risking its life in coming nearer the enchanted instrument. And ill was it rewarded. The mother one day, perceiving the ugly animal, seized and killed it. But the boy Beethoven was so put out and so miserable at losing his strange auditor that he burst into tears and, seizing his violin, smashed it against the floor, shivering it into a thousand pieces."
Many kinds build their webs and cocoons in exposed places and take no pains to conceal them, while others cover theirs with tiny pebbles and bits of earth for protection. Some kinds of spiders abandon their egg cocoon as soon as it is finished, while others carry it about with them until the babies appear. One mother allowed herself to be torn to pieces rather than leave her cocoon.
We might compare the spiders' different modes of getting
