"Well, even the scorpion is foolish sometimes, as I will presently tell you. It lives in burrows, which it digs in the ground, the entrance being formed to the exact size of the insect. By the shape of the hole people discover the residence, and, when they wish to destroy the inmate, they pour some water down, to see if the scorpion is at home. The scorpion detests water; and it no sooner feels the stream trickling through the opening, than out it rushes, to see what is the matter. To drive a spade into the hole and kill the scorpion is then an easy task.
"There is still another mode of destroying these princes of our race. A circle of smouldering ashes is made around the burrow, and the scorpion, after running for some minutes about the space inclosed, and seeing no means of escape from the ring of fire, invariably bends its tail up over the back, and inserting the point between two segments of the body, stings itself to death.
"I have another powerful relative, to be found in South America. This is a large hairy spider, two inches long in body, and seven inches with expanded legs. Only fancy such a size! I should be a mere pigmy in comparison. This spider is so powerful that it can kill small birds, by entangling them in a strong web. Think of that!" cried the Spider, hugging himself with satisfaction.
"You need not turn up your broken nose, Madame Teapot: we are all murderers; still we do any amount of good, after all, in destroying insects that would otherwise cause much trouble."
"I don't believe a word of what you say," interrupted the Saucepan. "A spider kill a bird, indeed! Nobody ever heard of such a thing."
"My dear," interposed the Teapot scornfully, feeling very much angered at the allusion to her nose made by the ill-bred stranger, "great travellers always tell fine stories."
"While you stay at home, and, seeing nothing, doubt what we say," retorted the Spider half angrily.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the Cricket impatiently, "shall we never have peace? I was so much interested in your recital, friend, that an interruption seems very annoying indeed."
"I am glad to find you a Cricket of such large views," replied the Spider politely; "so I will proceed, if it affords you any pleasure. My mother had much more experience of the outside world than any of her neighbors, and, when I was still young, she talked with my father one night about my future prospects in life. I remember that we children were in the nursery—a silken tube, very soft and warm for our tender bodies—when I overheard her remarks.
"'I cannot consent that my eldest son should settle down here at home, when there is so much to be seen that will improve his mind,' she said.