But a similar observation was made by Professor E. H. Weber, the famous anatomist and physiologist, and was published many years ago in Müller's Journal. A spider had stretched its web between two posts standing opposite each other, and had fastened it to a plant below for the third point. But as the attachment below was often broken by the garden work, by passers-by, and in other ways, the little animal extricated itself from the difficulty by spinning its web round a little stone, and fastened this to the lower part of its web, swinging freely, and so to draw the web down by its weight instead of fastening it in this direction by a connecting thread. Carus ('Vergl. Psycho.,' 1866, p. 76) also made a similar observation. But the most interesting observation on this head is related by J. G. Wood ('Glimpses into Petland'), and repeated by Watson (_loc. cit._, p. 455). One of my friends, says Wood, was accustomed to grant shelter to a number of garden spiders under a large verandah, and to watch their habits. One day a sharp storm broke out, and the wind raged so furiously through the garden that the spiders suffered damage from it, although sheltered by the verandah. The mainyards of one of these webs, as the sailors would call them, were broken, so that the web was blown hither and thither, like a slack sail in a storm. The spider made no fresh threads, but tried to help itself in another way. It let itself down to the ground by a thread, and crawled to a place where lay some splintered pieces of a wooden fence thrown down by the storm. It fastened a thread to one of the bits of wood, turned back with it, and hung it with a strong thread to the lower part of its nest, about five feet from the ground. The performance was a wonderful one, for the weight of the wood sufficed to keep the nest tolerably firm, while it was yet light enough to yield to the wind, and so prevent further injury. The piece of wood was about two and a half inches long, and as thick as a goose-quill. On the following day a careless servant knocked her head against the wood, and it fell down. But in the course of a few hours the spider had found it and brought it back to its place. When the storm ceased, the spider mended her web, broke the supporting thread in two, and let the wood fall to the ground! If so well-observed a fact requires any further confirmation, I may adduce the following account, which is of the more value as corroborative evidence from the writer not appearing to be aware that the fact had been observed before. This writer is Dr. John Topham, whom the late Dr. Sharpey, F.R.S., assured me is a competent observer, and who publishes the account in 'Nature' (xi. 18):--