The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1896-08-01

20O, 800 or 400 spiders. For them | ask
half franc each, $40 for every hundred.
In two months you would think his cell
lar was not disturbed for the last forty
years. 1T has cost him $40 or 900 maybe,
put he may sell the wine for $l000-yes,
more than that-above what it had
brought without my pets had dressed the
| bottles in the robes of long ago.
The merchant takes the parvenu and
the nouveau ricln. who are easy to fool
and play with. II, leads them down in O
the dark cellar by the light OF the can
die the customers sees the rows of BOTTLES.
Their necks are deep in dust. 1t is easy
to blowN over them dust The cobwebs
drape them they stretch from cork to
oork-it is plain that there is here great
age. All my cobwebs, mona mi. The
customer has what you call the pulling
or the leg to him. He Is proud. But it
is good for him. Good wine Is only
meant for the man who knows it.
| Perhaps man has quickly made
great wealth and keeps grand establish
ment. lie must have fine wine cellar.
Perhaps he buys himself old wines, dusty
and cob-webby. But the oob-webs are
broken and endeshabille when the bottles
are moved to his cellar. They have not
| the tone, the look Of the real old age, of
| the long years of gentle rest in the undis-
turf bed dark n est ce pas? Then he drives
out to see old Pierre, or writes from Now
York nr ChicagO-I do grand business
In Chicago. Sapristi, l send him my
pets. They work for him. Soon he can
| take his rich friends into his cellar and
they say. My gracious, this is superb, it
is magnificent. We give you congratula-
tions, my boy. This is what money can
not bny.s My pets stop working, and they
do what you call wink the other eye.
They then resume their TOLL
Tell us how you raise them and feed
them, Pierre, " asked the visitor, insinu-
atingIy. "Corbleu, it is science. this
raising OF spiders have on hand at one
time about lc, 900 spiders, old and young.
brought some eggs from France, and
| the choicest webmakers to be found.
Here is the queen of them all. Her
children are the superb spinners Many
hundreds of my pets are her descendants.
It is the kind bred by my great uncle in
Franco"
The old man led the way to a glass
dome in the corner, beneath which a
filny web of beautiful patterns stretched
across nearly two feet. Pierre touched one
of the meshes and huge black spider
danced MIN bly, out from her downy nest
and ran up thesvibrating thread to the old
mans finger. He gave her fly, and
she tripped back within doors with her
booty.
"This'is Sara" said Pierre. She has
the grace, the chic, the slender beauty of
the divine Bernhardt. She ia the pride
Of all my pets. All, here Is lola looking
at you.
A hideous, hairy monster had orawled
up the fine wire netting that Kept him
within bounds, and stared sardonically
not foot away from the wciter's nose.
A start and an exclamation were natural
but Pierre looked grieved.
81 do not blame you much" said he.
"Zola is good natured and would not
hurt you. but he has the horrible look.
He has fits of bad temper sometimes.
Then ventrebleu, look you out. He Is
the bird spider of Surinan. His body Is
two inches long. and he catches and eats
small fnches, and sparrows when in the
woods. His bite is Dad poison. T. doubt
not it will kill you. But tame him
with kindness. Yet he is not pleasant to
think of running around a room. He
might haveathe bad temper. He would
eat all my pets in one day. But he is
king of all spiders-le grand monarch.
perb OF writer's.
"When the mother spider wishes to lay
her eggs she makes little web in a
broad crack. See. here is one wearing
her nursery. Then she lay fifty eggs
perhaps. like petite jelly drops. Then she
cover them up in soft silk cocoon and
leaves them. In two weeks, longer In
difficult. 1t takes one or two days. The
eggs hell or skin cracks off in rags. My
gracious, but there is a great struggle for
the infants. Then they grow, and in a
week they look like spiders. They molt
often and shed their skin like the snake.
! must separate the brood at tender
age. II is hard to break up the family.
one is left. like your droll tale Of the
oats of Kilkenny, "-Montreal Star.