Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 June 1884 — A Trick on a Spider. [ARTICLE]

A Trick on a Spider.

A great many years ago, a prisoner of state, who was allowed to, cheer the solitude of his dungeon by playing on his flute, discovered after a while that, every time he played, a great Humber of spiders gathered about him. Since then, the liking of spiders for music has been proved. I myself had often wished to play for a spider audiehce, but I was not well enough acquainted with any musical instrument to coax a tune out of it. r A scientific gentleman of Europe gave me a valuable hint by an experiment of his own. He used a tuning fork. Now I can play a tuning-fork as well as anybody. I procured a tuningfork, and then sought out a spider. I found a handsome, brand-new web, and though I did not see Mistress Epeira, I knew she must be at home. Epiera diadema is her full name, though most persons nail her a garden spider. It is she who makes those beautiful, wheellike webs which festoon the rose-bushes and trees. As I have said, Madame Spider was not visible. I knew, however, she must be in her gossamer parlor, which is attached to her web. Here was a good chance to try tuningfork music. I rapped the fork on a stone, and in a moment a soft, melodious hum filled the air. I touched one of the spokes of the web with the fork. On the instant, Madame flew out of her parlor in great haste, hesitated a moment at the outer edge of the web, and then, instead of going straight to the tuning-fork, ran to the very center of Jhe web. - ■■■ When there, she quickly caught hold of each of the spokes one after the other, and gave it a little tug, as a boy does his fishing-line to see if a fish is hooked. Each was passed by until she came to the spoke upon which the tuning-fork rested. There she stopped, and it was easy to see she was excited. She gave the whole web a shake; then tugged at the spoke again. “Hum-m-m-m” still sang the fork, rather faintly now, however.

Madame was satisfied. Her mind was made up. Down she darted and caught the end of the fork in her arms. She tried to bite into the hard metal, and at the same time she spun a web of silk around and around the two prongs, which by this time had ceased vibrating. I pulled the fork away, and Madame Epeira retired in disappointment to the center of the web. But if she was disappointed, so was I, for I was satisfied that it was not the music of the fork that had attracted her. Unfortunately, it altogether too probable that she mistook the hum of the fork for the buzz of a fly—a sort of music’no doubt very sweet to her. Time after time I repeated the experiment with the fork, touching in turn each spoke of the web, and each time Madam Spider was deluded into trying to capture the tuning-fork. It was odd that she did not learn wisdom by repeated disappointment.— John E. Coryell, in St. Nicholas.