Of all our little neighbors of the fields there are none that are more universally shunned and feared than spiders, and few that deserve it less. There is a wide-spread belief that spiders are dangerous, that they are liable to bite, and that their bites are very venomous. Now this may be true of certain large species that live in hot countries; but the spiders of the Northern United States are practically harmless. It is true, spiders bite and inject venom sufficient to kill a fly into the wound made by their jaws. But they are exceedingly shy creatures, fearing man more than they are to be feared. If an observer will refrain from picking up a spider there is not the slightest danger of being bitten by one; and excepting a single uncommon species no spider is known in this part of the country whose bite would seriously affect a human being. On the other hand, spiders do much to keep in check various insect pests, and hence must be regarded as our friends. It is, however, from a different point of view that we wish to look upon them at this time. It is as illustrations of remarkable development of instinctive powers, and of wonderful correlation of structure and habit, that we would have the reader study these creatures. The teacher of nature-study can find no more available or more fertile field from which to take subjects for interesting children in the world about us. Let us then put aside our fears and go into the fields and see whether we can learn something of the ways of these spinners. THE FUNNEL-WEB WEAVERS. Often on summer mornings the grass of the roadsides and fields is seen to be carpeted with little sheets of glistening silk, the webs of the grass-spider. None were observed the day before; and we wonder at the sudden appearance of this host of weavers. Later in the day the webs have vanished! Have the weavers rolled them up and carried them off? We remember that there was an especially fine one near the end of the veranda steps; we examine the place carefully and find that it is still there, but not so conspicuous as it was. The warm sun has dissipated the dew which rendered visible to our dull eyes the tapestry of the fields. Now that our eyes are opened we can find the webs everywhere and are impressed with a suspicion that perhaps ordinarily we see very little of what is around us. We examine one of the webs carefully and find that it is a closely woven sheet made of threads running in all directions; that it is attached to spears of grass, and supported by numerous guy lines, and that from one side a funnel-like tube extends downwards. If, while we are watching, an insect alights on the sheet, there darts from the tunnel, where she was concealed, the owner of the web, a dark-colored spider; and the insect must be agile if it escapes.