The probable commencement, we think, of the floating line, is by the emission of little globules of the glutinous material to the points of the spinnerules—perhaps it may be dropped from them, if not ejected, and the globules being carried off by the current of air, drawn out into a thread. But we give this as only a conjecture, for we could not bring a glass of sufficient power to bear upon the spinnerules at the commencement of the floating line.
In subsequent experiments we found that it was not indispensable for the spider to rest upon a solid body when producing a line, as she can do so while she is suspended in the air by another line. When the current of air also is strong, she will sometimes commit herself to it by swinging from the end of the line. We have even remarked this when there was scarcely a breath of air.
We tried another experiment. We pressed pretty firmly upon the base of the spinnerets, so as not to injure the spider, blowing obliquely over them; but no floating line appeared. We then touched them with a pencil and drew out several lines an inch or two in length, upon which we blew in order to extend them; but in this also we were unsuccessful, as they did not lengthen more than a quarter of an inch. We next traced out the reservoirs of a garden-spider (Epeira diadema), and immediately taking a drop of the matter from one of them on the point of a fine needle, we directed upon it a strong current of air, and succeeded in blowing out a thick yellow line, as we might have done with gum-water, of about an inch and a half long.
When we observed our long-bodied spider eager to throw a line by raising up its body, we brought within three inches of its spinnerets an excited stick of sealing-wax, of which it took no notice, nor did any thread extend to it, not even when brought almost to touch the spinnerets. We had the same want of success with an excited glass rod; and indeed we had not anticipated any other result, as we have never observed that these either attract or repel the floating threads, as Mr. Murray has seen them do; nor have we ever seen the end of a floating thread separated into its component threadlets and diverging like a brush, as he and Mr. Bowman describe. It may be proper to mention that Mr. Murray, in conformity with his theory, explains the shooting of lines in a current of air by the electric state produced by motion in consequence of the mutual friction of the gaseous particles. But this view of the matter does not seem to affect our statements.
Nests, Webs, and Nets of Spiders.
The neatest, though the smallest spider’s nest which we have seen, was constructed in the chink of a garden post, which we had cut out in the previous summer in getting at the cells of a carpenter-bee. The architect was one of the large hunting-spiders, erroneously said by some naturalists to be incapable of spinning. The nest in question was about two inches high, composed of a very close satin-like texture. There were two parallel chambers placed perpendicularly, in which position also the inhabitant reposed there during the day, going, as we presume, only abroad to prey during the night. But the most remarkable circumstance was, that the openings (two above and two below) were so elastic, that they shut almost as closely as the boat cocoon of the Tortrix Chlorana. We observed this spider for several months, but at last it disappeared, and we took the nest out, under the notion that it might contain eggs; but we found none, and therefore conclude that it was only used as a day retreat. (J. R.) The account which Evelyn has given of these hunting-spiders is so interesting, that we must transcribe it.
“Of all sorts of insects,” says he, "there is none has afforded me more divertisement than the venatores (hunters), which are a sort of lupi (wolves) that have their dens in rugged walls and crevices of our houses; a small brown and delicately-spotted kind of spiders, whose hinder legs are longer than the rest. Such I did frequently observe at Rome, which, espying a fly at three or four yards’ distance, upon the balcony where I stood, would not make directly to her, but crawl under the rail till, being arrived at the antipodes, it would steal up, seldom missing its aim; but if it chanced to want anything of being perfectly opposite, would, at first peep, immediately slide down again,—till, taking better notice, it would come the next time exactly upon the fly’s back: but if this happened not to be within a competent leap, then would this insect move so softly, as the very shadow of the gnomon seemed not to be more imperceptible, unless the fly moved; and then would the spider move also in the same proportion, keeping that just time with her motion, as if the same soul had animated both these little bodies; and whether it were forwards, backwards, or to either side, without at all turning her body like a well-managed horse: but if the capricious fly took wing and pitched upon another place behind our huntress, then would the spider whirl its body so nimbly about, as nothing could be imagined more swift: by which means she always kept the head towards her prey, though, to appearance, as immovable as if it had been a nail driven into the wood, till by that indiscernible progress (being arrived within the sphere of her reach) she made a fatal leap, swift as lightning, upon the fly, catching him in the pole, where she never quitted hold till her belly was full, and then carried the remainder home."
One feels a little sceptical, however, when he adds, “I have beheld them instructing their young ones how to hunt, which they would sometimes discipline for not well observing; but when any of the old ones did (as sometimes) miss a leap, they would run out of the field and hide themselves in their crannies, as ashamed, and haply not to be seen abroad for four or five hours after; for so long have I watched the nature of this strange insect, the contemplation of whose so wonderful sagacity and address has amazed me; nor do I find in any chase whatsoever more cunning and stratagem observed. I have found some of these spiders in my garden, when the weather, towards spring, is very hot, but they are nothing so eager in hunting as in Italy.”[FI]
We have only to add to this lively narrative, that the hunting-spider, when he leaps, takes good care to provide against accidental falls by always swinging himself from a good strong cable of silk, as Swammerdam correctly states,[FJ] and which anybody may verify, as one of the small hunters (Salticus scenicus), known by having its back striped with black and white like a zebra, is very common in Britain.
Mr. Weston, the editor of ‘Bloomfield’s Remains,’ falls into a very singular mistake about hunting-spiders, imagining them to be web-weaving ones which have exhausted their materials, and which are therefore compelled to hunt. In proof of this he gives an instance which fell under his own observation![FK]
As a contrast to the little elastic satin nest of the hunter, we may mention the largest with which we are acquainted,—that of the labyrinthic spider (Agelena labyrinthica, Walchenaer). Our readers must often have seen this nest spread out like a broad sheet in hedges, furze, and other low bushes, and sometimes on the ground. The middle of this sheet, which is of a close texture, is swung like a sailor’s hammock, by silken ropes extended all around to the higher branches; but the whole curves upwards and backwards, sloping down to a long funnel-shaped gallery which is nearly horizontal at the entrance, but soon winds obliquely till it becomes quite perpendicular. This curved gallery is about a quarter of an inch in diameter, is much more closely woven than the sheet part of the web, and sometimes descends into a hole in the ground, though oftener into a group of crowded twigs, or a tuft of grass. Here the spider dwells secure, frequently resting with her legs extended from the entrance of the gallery, ready to spring out upon whatever insect may fall into her sheet net. She herself can only be caught by getting behind her and forcing her out into the web; but though we have often endeavoured to make her construct a nest under our eye, we have been as unsuccessful as in similar experiments with the common house spider (Aranea domestica). (J. R.)
The house spider’s proceedings were long ago described by Homberg, and the account has been copied, as usual, by almost every subsequent writer. Goldsmith has, indeed, given some strange misstatements from his own observations, and Bingley has added the original remark, that, after fixing its first thread, creeping along the wall, and joining it as it proceeds, it “darts itself to the opposite side, where the other end is to be fastened!”[FL] Homberg’s spider took the more circuitous route of travelling to the opposite wall, carrying in one of the claws the end of the thread previously fixed, lest it should stick in the wrong place. This we believe to be the correct statement, for as the web is always horizontal, it would seldom answer to commit a floating thread to the wind, as is done by other species. Homberg’s spider, after stretching as many lines by way of warp as it deemed sufficient between the two walls of the corner which it had chosen, proceeded to cross this in the way our weavers do in adding the woof, with this difference, that the spider’s threads were only laid on, and not interlaced.[FM] The domestic spiders, however, in these modern days, must have forgot this mode of weaving, for none of their webs will be found to be thus regularly constructed!
The geometric, or net-working spiders (Tendeuses, Latr.), are as well known in most districts as any of the preceding; almost every bush and tree in the gardens and hedge-rows having one or more of their nets stretched out in a vertical position between adjacent branches. The common garden spider (Epeira diadema), and the long-bodied spider (Tetragnatha extensa), are the best known of this order.
The chief care of a spider of this sort is, to form a cable of sufficient strength to bear the net she means to hang upon it; and, after throwing out a floating line as above described, when it catches properly she doubles and redoubles it with additional threads. On trying its strength she is not contented with the test of pulling it with her legs, but drops herself down several feet from various points of it, as we have often seen, swinging and bobbing with the whole weight of her body. She proceeds in a similar manner with the rest of the framework of her wheel-shaped net; and it may be remarked that some of the ends of these lines are not simple, but in form of a Y, giving her the additional security of two attachments instead of one.
In constructing the body of the net, the most remarkable circumstance is her using her limbs as a measure, to regulate the distances of her radii or wheel-spokes, and the circular meshes interweaved into them. These are consequently always proportional to the size of the spider. She often takes up her station in the centre, but not always, though it is so said by inaccurate writers; for she as frequently lurks in a little chamber constructed under a leaf or other shelter at the corner of her web, ready to dart down upon whatever prey may be entangled in her net. The centre of the net is said also to be composed of more viscid materials than its suspensory lines,—a circumstance alleged to be proved by the former appearing under the microscope studded with globules of gum.[FN] We have not been able to verify this distinction, having seen the suspensory lines as often studded in this manner as those in the centre. (J. R.)
Mason-Spiders.
A no less wonderful structure is composed by a sort of spiders, natives of the tropics and the south of Europe, which have been justly called mason-spiders by M. Latreille. One of these (Mygale nidulans, Walckn.), found in the West Indies, “digs a hole in the earth obliquely downwards about three inches in length, and one in diameter. This cavity she lines with a tough thick web, which, when taken out, resembles a leathern purse; but, what is most curious, this house has a door with hinges, like the operculum of some sea-shells, and herself and family, who tenant this nest, open and shut the door whenever they pass and repass. This history was told me,” says Darwin, “and the nest, with its door, shown me by the late Dr. Butt, of Bath, who was some years physician in Jamaica.”[FO]
A. The nest shut. B. The nest open. C. The spider, Mygale cæmentaria. D. The eyes magnified. E, F. Parts of the foot and claw magnified.
The nest of a mason-spider, similar to this, has been obligingly put into our hands by Mr. Riddle, of Blackheath. It came from the West Indies, and is probably that of Latreille’s clay-kneader (Mygale cratiens), and one of the smallest of the genus. We have since seen a pair of these spiders in possession of Mr. William Mello, of Blackheath. The nest is composed of very hard argillaceous clay, deeply tinged with brown oxide of iron. It is in form of a tube, about one inch in diameter, between six and seven inches long, and slightly bent towards the lower extremity—appearing to have been mined into the clay rather than built. The interior of the tube is lined with a uniform tapestry of silken web, of an orange-white colour, with a texture intermediate between India paper and very fine glove leather. But the most wonderful part of this nest is its entrance, which we look upon as the perfection of insect architecture. A circular door, about the size of a crown piece, slightly concave on the outside and convex within, is formed of more than a dozen layers of the same web which lines the interior, closely laid upon one another, and shaped so that the inner layers are the broadest, the outer being gradually less in diameter, except towards the hinge, which is about an inch long; and in consequence of all the layers being united there, and prolonged into the tube, it becomes the thickest and strongest part of the structure. The elasticity of the materials, also, gives to this hinge the remarkable peculiarity of acting like a spring, and shutting the door of the nest spontaneously. It is, besides, made to fit so accurately to the aperture, which is composed of similar concentric layers of web, that it is almost impossible to distinguish the joining by the most careful inspection. To gratify curiosity, the door has been opened and shut hundreds of times, without in the least destroying the power of the spring. When the door is shut, it resembles some of the lichens (Lecidea), or the leathery fungi, such as Polyporus versicolor (Micheli), or, nearer still, the upper valve of a young oyster shell. The door of the nest, the only part seen above ground, being of a blackish-brown colour, it must be very difficult to discover. (J. R.)
Another mason-spider (Mygale cæmentaria, Latr.), found in the south of France, usually selects for her nest a place bare of grass, sloping in such a manner as to carry off the water, and of a firm soil, without rocks or small stones. She digs a gallery a foot or two in depth, and of a diameter (equal throughout) sufficient to admit of her easily passing. She lines this with a tapestry of silk glued to the walls. The door, which is circular, is constructed of many layers of earth kneaded, and bound together with silk. Externally, it is flat and rough, corresponding to the earth around the entrance, for the purpose, no doubt, of concealment: on the inside it is convex, and tapestried thickly with a web of fine silk. The threads of this door-tapestry are prolonged, and strongly attached to the upper side of the entrance, forming an excellent hinge, which, when pushed open by the spider, shuts again by its own weight, without the aid of spring hinges. When the spider is at home, and her door forcibly opened by an intruder, she pulls it strongly inwards, and even when half-opened often snatches it out of the hand; but when she is foiled in this, she retreats to the bottom of her den, as her last resource.[FP]
Rossi ascertained that the female of an allied species (Mygale sauvagesii, Latr.), found in Corsica, lived in one of these nests, with a numerous posterity. He destroyed one of these doors to observe whether a new one would be made, which it was; but it was fixed immovably, without a hinge; the spider, no doubt, fortifying herself in this manner till she thought she might reopen it without danger.[FQ]
[The accompanying illustration shows one of these nests, which is in my own collection. It was brought from Jamaica, together with the spider that made it.
The nest is nearly six inches in length, and is made of a double layer of silken web. The inner layer is yellowish, with a tinge of red, and although fine, very tough and strong. The outer layer is thick, coarse, dark brown, and rather flaky, the dark colour being probably caused by the earth which is mixed with it. The lid is made of eight or ten layers of coarse web, overlapping each other like the tiles of a house-roof, and the entrance of the nest is formed after the same fashion. If the lid be opened, the inside of the nest is seen to be of a different make from the exterior, being greyish-white, smooth, close-textured, and looking much like the finest kid leather.
[The smaller illustration shows the spider in the act of emerging from its home.]
* * * * *
“The Rev. Revett Shepherd has often noticed, in the fen ditches of Norfolk, a very large spider (the species not yet determined) which actually forms a raft for the purpose of obtaining its prey with more facility. Keeping its station upon a ball of weeds about three inches in diameter, probably held together by slight silken cords, it is wafted along the surface of the water upon this floating island, which it quits the moment it sees a drowning insect. The booty thus seized it devours at leisure upon its raft, under which it retires when alarmed by any danger.”[FR] In the spring of 1830, we found a spider on some reeds in the Croydon Canal, which agreed in appearance with Mr. Shepherd’s.
Among our native spiders there are several besides this one, which, not contented with a web like the rest of their congeners, take advantage of other materials to construct cells where, “hushed in grim repose,” they “expect their insect prey.” The most simple of those spider-cells is constructed by a longish-bodied spider (Aranea holosericea, Linn.), which is a little larger than the common hunting-spider. It rolls up a leaf of the lilac or poplar, precisely in the same manner as is done by the leaf-rolling caterpillars, upon whose cells it sometimes seizes to save itself trouble, having first expelled, or perhaps devoured, the rightful owner. The spider, however, is not satisfied with the tapestry of the caterpillar, but always weaves a fresh set of her own, much more close and substantial.
Another spider, common in woods and copses (Epeira quadrata?), weaves together a great number of leaves to form a dwelling for herself, and in front of it she spreads her toils for entrapping the unwary insects which stray thither. These, as soon as caught, are dragged into her den, and stored up for a time of scarcity. Here also her eggs are deposited and hatched in safety. When the cold weather approaches, and the leaves of her edifice wither, she abandons it for the more secure shelter of a hollow tree, where she soon dies; but the continuation of the species depends upon eggs, deposited in the nest before winter, and remaining to be hatched with the warmth of the ensuing summer.
The spider’s den of united leaves, however, which has just been described, is not always useless when withered and deserted, for the dormouse usually selects it as a ready-made roof for its nest of dried grass. That those old spiders’ dens are not accidentally chosen by the mouse, appears from the fact, that out of about a dozen mouse-nests of this sort found during winter in a copse between Lewisham and Bromley, Kent, every second or third one was furnished with such a roof. (J. R.)
Diving Water-Spider.
Though spiders require atmospheric air for respiration, yet one species well known to naturalists is aquatic in its habits, and lives not only upon the surface but below the surface of the water, contriving to carry down with it a sufficiency of air for the support of life during a considerable period of time. Its subaqueous nest is in fact a sort of diving-bell, and constitutes a secure and most ingenious habitation. This spider does not like stagnant water, but prefers low running streams, canals, and ditches, where she may often be seen in the vicinity of London and elsewhere, living in her diving-bell, which shines through the water like a little globe of silver: her singular economy was first, we believe, described by Clerck,[FS] L. M. de Lignac,[FT] and De Geer.
“The shining appearance,” says Clerck, "proceeds either from an inflated globule surrounding the abdomen, or from the space between the body and the water. The spider, when wishing to inhale the air, rises to the surface, with its body still submersed, and only the part containing the spinneret rising just to the surface, when it briskly opens and moves its four teats. A thick coat of hair keeps the water from approaching or wetting the abdomen. It comes up for air about four times an hour or oftener, though I have good reason to suppose it can continue without it for several days together.
"I found in the middle of May one male and ten females, which I put into a glass filled with water, where they lived together very quietly for eight days. I put some duckweed (Lemna) into the glass to afford them shelter, and the females began to stretch diagonal threads in a confused manner from it to the sides of the glass about half-way down. Each of the females afterwards fixed a close bag to the edge of the glass, from which the water was expelled by the air from the spinneret, and thus a cell was formed capable of containing the whole animal. Here they remained quietly, with their abdomens in their cells, and their bodies still plunged in the water; and in a short time brimstone-coloured bags of eggs appeared in each cell, filling it about a fourth part. On the 7th of July several young ones swam out from one of the bags. All this time the old ones had nothing to eat, and yet they never attacked one another as other spiders would have been apt to do."[FU]
“These spiders,” says De Geer, “spin in the water a cell of strong, closely-woven white silk, in the form of half the shell of a pigeon’s egg, or like a diving-bell. This is sometimes left partly above water, but at others is entirely submersed, and is always attached to the objects near it by a great number of irregular threads. It is closed all round, but has a large opening below, which, however, I found closed on the 15th of December, and the spider living quietly within, with her head downwards. I made a rent in this cell, and expelled the air, upon which the spider came out; yet, though she appeared to have been laid up for three months in her winter quarters, she greedily seized upon an insect and sucked it. I also found that the male as well as the female constructs a similar subaqueous cell, and during summer no less than in winter.”[FV] We have recently kept one of these spiders for several months in a glass of water, where it built a cell half under water, in which it laid its eggs.
Cleanliness of Spiders.
When we look at the viscid material with which spiders construct their lines and webs, and at the rough, hairy covering (with a few exceptions) of their bodies, we might conclude that they would be always stuck over with fragments of the minute fibres which they produce. This, indeed, must often happen, did they not take careful precautions to avoid it; for we have observed that they seldom, if ever, leave a thread to float at random, except when they wish to form a bridge. When a spider drops along a line, for instance, in order to ascertain the strength of her web, or the nature of the place below her, she invariably, when she reascends, coils it up into a little ball, and throws it away. Her claws are admirably adapted for this purpose, as well as for walking along the lines, as may be readily seen by a magnifying glass.
There are three claws, one of which acts as a thumb, the others being toothed like a comb, for gliding along the lines. This structure, however, unfits it to walk, as flies can do, upon any upright polished surface like glass; although the contrary[FW] is erroneously asserted by the Abbé de la Pluche. Before she can do so, she is obliged to construct a ladder of ropes, as Mr. Blackwell remarks,[FX] by elevating her spinneret as high as she can, and laying down a step upon which she stands to form a second, and so on; as any one may try by placing a spider at the bottom of a very clean wine-glass.
The hairs of the legs, however, are always catching bits of web and particles of dust; but these are not suffered to remain long. Most people may have remarked that the house-fly is ever and anon brushing its feet upon one another to rub off the dust, though we have not seen it remarked in authors that spiders are equally assiduous in keeping themselves clean. They have, besides, a very efficient instrument in their mandibles or jaws, which, like their claws, are furnished with teeth; and a spider which appears to a careless observer as resting idly, in nine cases out of ten will be found slowly combing her legs with her mandibles, beginning as high as possible on the thigh, and passing down to the claws. The flue which she thus combs off is regularly tossed away.
With respect to the house-spider (A. domestica), we are told in books, that “she from time to time clears away the dust from her web, and sweeps the whole by giving it a shake with her paw, so nicely proportioning the force of her blow, that she never breaks anything.”[FY] That spiders may be seen shaking their webs in this manner, we readily admit; though it is not, we imagine, to clear them of dust, but to ascertain whether they are sufficiently sound and strong.
We recently witnessed a more laborious process of cleaning a web than merely shaking it. On coming down the Maine by the steamboat from Frankfort, in August, 1829, we observed the geometric-net of a conic-spider (Epeira conica, Walck.) on the framework of the deck, and as it was covered with flakes of soot from the smoke of the engine, we were surprised to see a spider at work on it; for, in order to be useful, this sort of net must be clean. Upon observing it a little closely, however, we perceived that she was not constructing a net, but dressing up an old one; though not, we must think, to save trouble, so much as an expenditure of material. Some of the lines she dexterously stripped of the flakes of soot adhering to them; but in the greater number, finding that she could not get them sufficiently clean, she broke them quite off, bundled them up, and tossed them over. We counted five of these packets of rubbish which she thus threw away, though there must have been many more, as it was some time before we discovered the manœuvre, the packets being so small as not to be readily perceived, except when placed between the eye and the light. When she had cleared off all the sooty lines, she began to replace them in the usual way; but the arrival of the boat at Mentz put an end to our observations. (J. R.) Bloomfield, the poet, having observed the disappearance of these bits of ravelled web, imagined that the spider swallowed them; and even says that he observed a garden spider moisten the pellets before swallowing them![FZ] Dr. Lister, as we have already seen, thought the spider retracted the threads within the abdomen.
STRUCTURES OF GALL-FLIES AND APHIDES.
Many of the processes which we have detailed bear some resemblance to our own operations of building with materials cemented together; but we shall now turn our attention to a class of insect-architects, who cannot, so far as we know, be matched in prospective skill by any of the higher orders of animals. We refer to the numerous family which have received the name of gall-flies,—a family which, as yet, is very imperfectly understood, their economy being no less difficult to trace than their species is to arrange in the established systems of classification; though the latter has been recently much improved by Mr. Westwood.
One of the most simple and very common instances of the nests constructed by gall-insects, may be found in abundance during the summer, on the leaves of the rose-tree, the oak, the poplar, the willow (Salix viminalis), and many other trees, in the globular form of a berry, about the size of a currant, and usually of a green colour, tinged with red, like a ripe Alban or Baltimore apple.
When this psuedo-apple in miniature is cut into, it is found to be fresh, firm, juicy, and hollow in the centre, where there is either an egg or a grub safely lodged, and protected from all ordinary accidents. Within this hollow ball the egg is hatched, and the grub feeds securely on its substance, till it prepares for its winter sleep, before changing into a gall-fly (Cynips) in the ensuing summer. There is a mystery as to the manner in which this gall-fly contrives to produce the hollow miniature apples, each enclosing one of her eggs; and the doubts attendant upon the subject cannot, so far as our present knowledge extends, be solved, except by plausible conjecture. Our earlier naturalists were of opinion that it was the grub which produced the galls, by eating, when newly hatched, through the cuticle of the leaf, and remaining till the juices flowing from the wound enveloped it, and acquired consistence by exposure to the air. This opinion, however, plausible as it appeared to be, was at once disproved by finding unhatched eggs on opening the galls.
There can be no doubt, indeed, that the mother gall-fly makes a hole in the plant for the purpose of depositing her eggs. She is furnished with an admirable ovipositor for that express purpose, and Swammerdam actually saw a gall-fly thus depositing her eggs, and we have recently witnessed the same in several instances. In some of these insects the ovipositor is conspicuously long, even when the insect is at rest; but in others, not above a line or two of it is visible, till the belly of the insect be gently pressed. When this is done to the fly that produces the currant-gall of the oak, the ovipositor may be seen issuing from a sheath in form of a small curved needle, of a chestnut-brown colour, and of a horny substance, and three times as long as it at first appeared.
What is most remarkable in this ovipositor is, that it is much longer than the whole body of the insect, in whose belly it is lodged in a sheath, and, from its horny nature, it cannot be either shortened or lengthened. It is on this account that it is bent into the same curve as the body of the insect. The mechanism by which this is effected is similar to that of the tongue of the woodpeckers (Picidæ), which, though rather short, can be darted out far beyond the beak, by means of a forked bone at the root of the tongue, which is thin and rolled up like the spring of a watch. The base of the ovipositor of the gall-fly is, in a similar way, placed near the anus, runs along the curvature of the back, makes a turn at the breast, and then, following the curve of the belly, appears again near where it originates. We copy from Réaumur his accurate sketch of this remarkable structure.
With this instrument the mother gall-fly pierces the part of a plant which she selects, and, according to our older naturalists, “ejects into the cavity a drop of her corroding liquor, and immediately lays an egg or more there; the circulation of the sap being thus interrupted, and thrown, by the poison, into a fermentation that burns the contiguous parts and changes the natural colour. The sap, turned from its proper channel, extravasates and flows round the eggs, while its surface is dried by the external air, and hardens into a vaulted form.”[GA] Kirby and Spence tell us, that the parent fly introduces her egg “into a puncture made by her curious spiral sting, and in a few hours it becomes surrounded with a fleshy chamber.”[GB] M. Virey says, the gall tubercle is produced by irritation, in the same way as an inflamed tumor in an animal body, by the swelling of the cellular tissue and the flow of liquid matter, which changes the organization, and alters the natural external form.[GC] This seems to be the received doctrine at present in France.[GD]
Sprengel, speaking of the rose-willow, says, the insect in spring deposits its eggs in the leaf buds. “The new stimulus attracts the sap,—the type of the part becomes changed, and from the prevailing acidity of the animal juice, it happens, that in the rose and stock-shaped leaves which are pushed out, a red instead of a green colour is evolved.”[GE]
Without pretending positively to state facts which are, perhaps, beyond human penetration, we may view the process in a rather different light. (J. R.) Following the analogy of what is known to occur in the case of the saw-flies, after the gall-fly has made a puncture and pushed her egg into the hole, we may suppose that she covers it over with some adhesive gluten or gum, or the egg itself, as is usual among moths, &c., may be coated over with such a gluten. In either of these two cases, the gluten will prevent the sap that flows through the puncture from being scattered over the leaf and wasted; and the sap, being thus confined to the space occupied by the eggs, will expand and force outwards the pellicle of gluten that confines it, till becoming thickened by evaporation and exposure to the air, it at length shuts up the puncture, stops the further escape of the sap, and the process is completed. This explanation will completely account for the globular form of the galls alluded to; that is, supposing the egg of the gall-fly to be globular, and covered or coated with a pellicle of gluten of uniform thickness, and consequently opposing uniform resistance, or rather uniform expansibility, to the sap pressing from within. It will also account for the remarkable uniformity in the size of the gall apples; for the punctures and the eggs being uniform in size, and the gluten, by supposition, uniform in quantity, no more than the same quantity of sap can escape in such circumstances.
But though this explanation appears to be plausible, it is confessedly conjectural; for though Swammerdam detected a gall-fly in the act of depositing her eggs, he did not attend to this circumstance; and in the instances which we have observed, some unlucky accident always prevented us from following up our observations. The indefatigable Réaumur, on one occasion, thought he would make sure of tracing the steps of the process in the case of the gall-fly which produces the substance called bedeguar on the wild rose-tree, and to which we shall presently advert. His plan was to enclose in a box, in which a brood of flies had just been produced from a bedeguar, a living branch from a wild rose-tree; but, to his great disappointment, no eggs were laid, and no bedeguar formed. Upon further investigation, he discovered that the brood of flies produced from the bedeguar were not the genuine bedeguar insects at all, but one of the parasite ichneumons (Callimone bedeguaris, Stephens), which had surreptitiously deposited their eggs there, in order to supply their young with the bedeguar grubs, all of which they appeared to have devoured. It may prove interesting to look into the remarkable structure of the bedeguar itself, which is very different from the globular galls above described.
The gall-fly of the willow (Cynips viminalis) deposits, as we have just seen, only a single egg on one spot; but the bedeguar insect lays a large cluster of eggs on the extremity of a growing branch of the wild rose-tree, making, probably, a proportionate number of punctures to procure materials for the future habitation of her young progeny. As in the former case, also, each of these eggs becomes (as we may suppose) surrounded with the sap of the rose, enclosed in a pellicle of gluten. The gluten, however, of the bedeguar insect is not, it would appear, sufficiently tenacious to confine the flowing sap within the dimensions of any of the little clustered globes containing the eggs, for it oozes out from numerous cracks or pores in the pellicle; which cracks or pores, however, are not large enough to admit a human hair. But this, so far from being a defect in the glutinous pellicle of the bedeguar fly, is, as we shall presently see, of great utility. The sap which issues from each of these pores, instead of being evaporated and lost, shoots out into a reddish-coloured, fibrous bristle.
It is about half an inch long, and, from the natural tendency of the sap of the rose-tree to form prickles, these are all over studded with weak pricklets. The bedeguar, accordingly, when fully formed, has some resemblance, at a little distance, to a tuft of reddish-brown hair or moss stuck upon the branch. Sometimes this tuft is as large as a small apple, and of a rounded but irregular shape; at other times it is smaller, and in one instance mentioned by Réaumur, only a single egg had been laid on a rose-leaf, and, consequently, only one tuft was produced. Each member of the congeries is furnished with its own tuft of bristles, arising from the little hollow globe in which the egg or the grub is lodged.
The prospective wisdom of this curious structure is admirable. The bedeguar grubs live in their cells through the winter, and as their domicile is usually on one of the highest branches, it must be exposed to every severity of the weather. But the close, non-conducting, warm, mossy collection of bristles, with which it is surrounded, forms for the soft, tender grubs a snug protection against the winter’s cold, till, through the influence of the warmth of the succeeding summer, they undergo their final change into the winged state; preparatory to which they eat their way with their sharp mandibles through the walls of their little cells, which are now so hard as to be cut with difficulty by a knife. (J. R.)
Another structure, similar in principle, though different in appearance, is very common upon oak-trees, the termination of a branch being selected as best suited for the purpose. This structure is rather larger than a filbert, and is composed of concentric leaves diverging from the base, and expanding upwards, somewhat like an artichoke. Whether this leafy structure is caused by a superinduced disease, as the French think, or by the form of the pores in the pellicle of gluten surrounding the eggs, or rather by the tendency of the exuding sap of the oak to form leaves, has not been ascertained; but that it is intended, as in the case of the bedeguar, to afford an efficient protection against the weather to the included eggs or grubs, there can be no doubt.
From the very nature of the process of forming willow-galls, bedeguar, and the artichoke of the oak, whatever theory be adopted, it will be obvious that their growth must be rapid; for the thickening of the exuded sap, which is quickly effected by evaporation, will soon obstruct and finally close the orifice of the puncture made by the parent insect. It is accordingly asserted by Réaumur and other observers, that all the species of galls soon reach their full growth.