The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1905-05-13

/ times l Kill ny, or disable him, so that
he cannot struggle much, and care
fully place him In the web Of one of
the little spiders, but the small owner
runs away all the same, and will rather
make new net in another place than
return to the old one while the dan
gerous intruder remains. believe 1t
is not generally known that each thread
OF spiders web Is covered with very
glutinous matter, and when the web Is
newly spun whatever touches 1t sticks.
A gnat or fly is not entangled. 1t Is
simply caught as II by bird lime, and
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 a 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 il 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 firmly-not kill
him. but only to crumple him up bit so
that he cannot fly and 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 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 uI 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 a dozen times. The mosquito
fiutters 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 being torn to pieces. Sometimes fear
gets the better of him, and just as he is
about to touch the mosquito he turns
and rushes frantically away to hide in a
crevice. In moment he Is out again,
however, as il ashamed of his cowardice
He advances resolutely, jerking the
thread as he comes, and at last springs
on his victim with all the ferocity in his
wicked little 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
large as a pea-a marrowfat pea. She
has the best place, and the sunniest
corner, and her web spreads over
nearly foot of space. It's threads are
so large and thick that the biggest fly
Is doomed when he gets into it. call
her Mrs. Jacobson, be 2aus e she re-
minds me so much of lady i know.
The lady is so puffy, and so rich, and
so calm, and SO greedy, and so well
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 Ier5 n in the
treasures, which she keeps close to-
gether in corner or her web in an
angle Of the sash, surIoundel by
dense network o. threads. 1hey are
two large brown bags, each as big as
herself, and whatever is in them must
be very va uabl,. for she 81 all day
long between them. TOT ching one with
each hand. She is very business-like,
and doesn't waste any time when q 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
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 so loud
and wild and shrill and despairing.
But he is done for Mrs. Jacobson pro-
ceeds calmly, methodically, relentless
ly. First a leg Is fastened tight to his
body, then wing, and in minute he
Is encased in a neat white shroud of
threads and can't move an eyelash.
Whom he is completely helpless she
takes him to the corner near her
precious bags, and, IL she is not
hungry land she is already fat enough,
in Ill conscience), she hangs him up
in her cupboard, maybe with one or
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 thread, and
the fly. in his little shroud, at once
drops from the web to the window sill
1elow There Is nothing left of him
but little shell. A touch Of my finger
brushes 1t to powder.
But here comes the man I dread
the porter-with a broom. That fell
low seems to be beset with determin-
alton to "clean" my window, and
holieve he thinks I am crazy because I