"I have seen plenty of the world, yet I have never troubled myself with such nonsense as cards."
"You will not find ceremonies of the kind necessary here," remarked the Cricket, with a severe glance at the Teapot. "Perhaps you will tell us something of your adventures, however.
"I do not mind doing so at all," returned the Spider, gathering up his long legs into a more comfortable position.
THE TRAVELLED SPIDER.
I was born in the cellar of this very house, and, for a delightful, spidery residence, I know of no place to equal the dark, dust-stained window ledge where I first drew breath. After a long period of absence, I find my early home has lost none of its charms. This is the case with men as well as spiders, I am told. The American thinks there is no river in the world so grand as the great Mississippi; the Frenchman none so beautiful as the Seine; the Englishman none so famous as the Thames; the German as the Rhine; and the Egyptian as the sacred Nile,—because home is represented by each.
"So, too, with me the cellar window has rare attractions: there one can spin a dainty web to snare the silly flies and gnats, when they come dancing along, for supper. Never believe the life of a spider is an easy one, though: that is an altogether false idea. We work hard enough, although we wear such good armor, and have such sharp, strong claws; for we live by our wits, and a dull, stupid spider has but a poor chance of it. First, one has to be on the watch for stray morsels of food, to be ready for a pounce; then one's net may become torn in some way so as to require mending; or a wandering spider comes prowling along to try and conquer a home without the trouble of making it: so between all these cares there is little leisure time to spare. The class to which I belong does not have the constant labor that falls to the share of some of our cousins, who spin their webs from trees, or festoon them about verandas and other exposed localities, where the wind often blows them about so roughly, that they are obliged to suspend bits of wood and stone to the corners to maintain an equilibrium. I have some other relatives, to think of whom alone is enough to warm any spider's heart with pride.
"Foremost of these ranks the scorpion of warmer climates, where it creeps into sheltered crannies under every stone or sandy bank, even inhabiting boots and gloves. When disturbed, out it pounces, with an angry snap of the claws and a savage whisk of the tail, ready for some mischief, you may be sure.
"Ah, I wish I was a scorpion, instead of a mere ordinary spider! But then every one cannot be great, after all.