The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1905-06-17


its struggles, by jerking the thread, ap-
prise the spider of the capture
Many of my spiders are really too lit
tie to have ever captured anything, and
am quite sure have been witness to
several first experiences. | hate mos
quitoes. They make great white bumps
wherever they bite me, and there are far
too many of them in this cell OF mine.
1t is my great pleasure to watch one OF
them alight on my hand, and just as he
has braced his ugly legs, thrust out his
poisoned dagger and bored into me, to
smite him gently but frmly-not Kill
him, but only to crumple him up bit 80
that he cannot fly ard still can kick Wig
orously. Then take him by one wing
and delicately touch him against the
web of one of my small spiders-not one
of the very tiniest, for they are afraid
of anything larger than a nudge. The
mosquito sticks Immediately to the
gummy thread. He kicks and whirls
about in an ecstasy of well-deserved ter
ror. The little spider, sitting Jumped
up and apparently asleep at the other
end of the web, springs up and thrusts
out all his legs. can actually see him
culver with excitement. He runs down
the web until he is an inch from the mos
quito, stops and jerks the thread sharp
| ly half dozen times. The mosquito
| futters again. The little spider goes
quite wild. He doesn't dare to rush on
| the prey, but jerks the threads, until be-
tween the two the net seems in danger
of biting torn to pieces. Sometimes fear
gets the better of sim, and just as he is
t-aboLt to touch tn. mosquito he turns
and rushes frantically. away to hide in
crevice. In a moment he is out again,
however, as if reclaimed of his cowardice.
He advances resolutely, jerking the
i thread as he comes, and at last springs
on his victim with all the ferocity in his
wicked iGtle body, runs quickly all over
the mosquito. ties down the fiuttering
wings and settles to his feast without
| further ceremony.
The biggest spider in the window is
a very different person. She is as
/ large as a pea-a marrowfat pea. Che
has the best place, and the sunniest
corner, and her web spreads over
nearly a foot of space. Its threads are
so large and thick that the biggest fly
is doomed when he gets into it,. l call
her Mrs. jacobson, be ,aI-e she re-
minds me SO much of lady | know.
The lady is so puffy, and SO rich, ard
SO calm, and so greedy. and so web
content in the assurance tn every
thing she has is so much finer and be-
ter than anything her neighbors have.
My Mrs. Jacobson is evidently the
richest and greatest perJ- n in IT,,
| window. She posses es two great
| treasures, which she keeps close to-
gether in a cornsr OF he's web in an
angle of tie sash, su-Iounde. by q
dense network o threats. They are
two large brown bags, each as big as
herself, and whatever is in them must
be very va.uablA, for she sis all day
long between them, tor ching enc with
each hand. She is very business-like.
and doesn't waste any time when fly
gets into her web. She never runs
away to hide. She never rushes aim
lessly back and forth, jerking the
threads and trying to screw up her
courage. She goes to her fly as Tar
tarin went to the lion, as you will
learn you get to 'Tartarin sur les
Alpes;" and when she reaches him she
thrusts out first one and then another
of her long, skinny arms, first over
him, then under. The fly whirls
around like the arms of a windmill,
actually screaming. his buzz is 50 loud
and wild and shrill and despairing.
But he is done for. Mrs. Jacobson Fro
ceeds calmly, methodically, relentless
ly. First a leg is fastened tight to his
body, then a wing, and in a minute he
is encased in a neat white shroud OF
threads and cant move an eyelash.
When he is completely helpless she
takes him to the corner near her
precious bags, and, if she is not
hungry (and she is already fat enough
in all conscience), she hangs him w
in her cupboard, maybe with one OF
two others which are there Then she
goes back to her treasures, and sits
listening remorselessly to his gradually
weakening screams, which sound like
the wind in very small keyhole.
Mrs. Jacobson's dinner occupies
about two hours. At the end of it she
! appears to simply cut a thread, and
the fly. in his little shroud. at once
drops from the web to the window sill
below. There Is nothing left of hin
but little shell. A touch of my finger
brushes 1t to powder.
But here comes the man | dread
the porter-with broom. That fell
low seems to be beset with determin.
alton to clean" my window, and
believe he thinks am crazy because
don't wish him to do it. Of course
can't tell him why. He would tr.Sl
me crazier than ever. But he 81 -.
clean it.-N. o. Times-Democrat.
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