could see, and most certainly she seemed to
know what to do with hers. Children
appeared to be the only furniture of the place;
I could see, besides them, only a wooden
cradle, a couple of stools, a little old chest of
drawers, and a long row of pegs, on which
hung a whole array of small tattered cloaks,
and coats, and caps.

All afternoon, the troop of blue-eyed, light-
haired, children were playing about the old
church, now hiding among the old arches,
now rushing out with flying locks into the
bright sunshine. We heard their voices
sounding so merrily among the graves, and
echoing back from the crumbling old walls,
that the place was like a pleasant poem.
During the whole afternoon, too, various
peasants came to pray in the church, and the
mother was constantly going backwards and
forwards, with her huge key in her hand, and
she had ever a kind, cheerful word to say to
ua as she passed. But we could not persuade
her to take anything from us when we left.

As we came home, the sun was setting,
flooding the whole plain with orange light,
and turning the avenue of poplars into an
avenue of dark red gold, relieved against an
indigo sky.

A SPIDER IN DISGUISE.

How often do I recall my three years'
rambles through the gorgeous forests of
British Guiana—a new vegetable wonder at
every step; those " paddlings " up the sombre
creeks, encompassed by the luxuriant vegetation;
race after race springing upwards to
the light, and scrambling o'er their parents
with parricidal haste—all mantled gracefully
by the fantastic lianas, the brilliant orchid, or
insidious parasite—their heart's best blood a
prey to deadly courtezans, who embrace their
victims in their fatal arms, and drag them to
the grave, festooned with all the verdure of
youth. How I dote upon those roamings
amid the thousand green isles of the sparkling
Essequibo, at early dawn, or in those bright
but transient moments that mark the setting
of a tropic sun—or in those witching hours
when everything seems loveliest—by the
tempered moonlight! then the feverish
blood, the lassitude of mind and body, raised
by the sultry noon, give place to a serenity
of soul, and buoyancy of spirit, which render
mere existence, enjoyment.

It was to record an instance of insect talent
and ingenuity, which it was my good fortune
to observe in the delightful locality, that I
took up my pen; before doing so, however, let
me offer a few brief remarks on other members
of the same family, which are natives of
Guiana. In applying the term " insects " to
spiders, I adopt the classification of the older
entomologists; for the moderns have, with
a considerable show of reason, placed them
beyond the pale of the true insecta. We ever
find the various forms of animal life most
numerous, where their peculiar food is in the
greatest abundance; and it is to this cause we
must assign the comparatively small number
of spiders which inhabit South America; for
the diptera or two-winged flies, which furnish
their principal supply of food, are in no
country so limited in number; and this is
the more surprising, as nowhere are the other
classes of insects so plentiful. It is probable,
however, that but a very small portion of the
spider family have as yet been discovered, from
the fact that great numbers infest the
topmost branches of the trees in the forests of the
interior, where they escape the eye of the few
collectors who have penetrated to their haunts,
and are only thought to be found on inspection
of the crops of various insect-feeding
birds. This supposition becomes greatly
confirmed, when we remember the many
previously unknown species which have lately been
detected in our own well-explored country.
Those which are known belong, principally,
to that division of the family whose members
are designated " hunting spiders," from their
not weaving webs to entrap their prey, like
the majority of their brethren in this country,
but securing it by lying in wait and pouncing
upon it when unawares, after the fashion of
the feline tribe among quadrupeds. Many of
the smaller species of this division frequent
houses in Demerara, affording excellent
opportunities to the inquirer of observing their tact
and sagacity.

Many a time have I sat, for hours, watching
them thus engaged on the floor, the jalousie,
or the wall, their compact forms scarcely
distinguishable, when motionless, from the head of a
nail or a knot in the wood. A fly alights a yard
or so from some lurking robber impatient of
a meal: see how quickly he detects it, whether
behind or before it matters little, for he can
see in all directions equally well: with what
eagerness, yet what caution, he advances
towards his unconscious victim; now he takes
a few stealthy paces, now he remains still;
at length he has reduced his former distance
to about a third. He is now within the
range of the fly's vision, and an incautious
movement would balk him of his prey.
Every faculty is alert —the fly advances, so
does he—it moves to one side, so does he—it
retreats, so does he—one spirit seems to
animate the two bodies, they move in perfect
unison; backwards, forwards, or sideways, the
spider walks with equal facility, and even
keeping his side towards the fly, glides as
truly and silently as its own shadow. The
fly has now become stationary; perhaps he is
absorbed in the discussion of some stray grain
of sugar, or, may be, clearing his head and
face from all particles of dust; for flies are,
in this respect, very particular, indeed perfect
models of cleanliness, though I dare say Mary,
the housemaid, thinks far otherwise as she
arrays the picture-frames and chandelier in
the drawing-room in their muslin coverings;
or Martha, the cook, as she surveys her rows