The courage and rapacity of spiders as a class are too well and generally known to require special illustration. One instance, however, may be quoted to show the strength of their maternal emotions. Bonnet threw a spider with her bag of eggs into the pit of an ant-lion. The latter seized the eggs and tore them away from the spider; but although Bonnet forced her out of the pit, she returned, and chose to be dragged in and buried alive rather than leave her charge. The only other point that occurs to me with reference to the emotions of spiders is the somewhat remarkable one concerning their apparent fondness of music. The testimony is so varied and abundant on this matter that we can scarcely doubt the truth of the facts. These simply are that spiders--or at any rate some species or individuals--approach a sounding musical instrument, 'especially when the music is tender and not too loud.' They usually approach as near as possible, often letting themselves down from the ceiling of the room by a line of web, and remain suspended above the instrument. Should the music become loud, they often again retreat. Professor C. Reclain, during a concert at Leipsic, saw a spider descend in this way from one of the chandeliers while a violin solo was being played; but as soon as the orchestra began to sound it quickly ran back again.[75] Similar observations have been published by Rabigot, Simonius, von Hartmann, and others. A highly probable explanation of these facts has recently been given by Mr. C. V. Boys, which relieves us of the necessity of imputing to animals so low in the scale any rudiment of æsthetic emotion as aroused by musical tones. As the observation is an interesting one, I shall quote it _in extenso_:-- Having made some observations on the garden spider which are I believe new, I send a short account of them, in the hope that they may be of interest to the readers of _Nature_.