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136
My Studio Neighbors
·
W. Hamilton Gibson
6
I
have
mentioned
the
murmur
of
the
bees,
but
the
incessant
buzzing
of
flies
and
wasps
is
an
equally
prominent
sound.
Then
there
is
the
occasional
sortie
of
the
dragon-fly,
making
his
gauzy,
skimming
circuit
about
the
room,
or
suggestively
bobbing
around
against
wall
or
ceiling;
and
that
occasional
audible
episode
of
the
stifled,
expiring
buzz
of
a
fly,
which
is
too
plainly
in
the
toils
of
Arachne
up
yonder!
For
in
one
corner
of
my
room
I
boast
of
a
prize
dusty
"cobweb,"
as
yet
spared
from
the
household
broom,
a
gossamer
arena
of
two
years'
standing,
which
makes
a
dense
span
of
a
length
of
about
two
feet
from
a
clump
of
dried
hydrangea
blossoms
to
the
sill
of
a
transom-window,
and
which,
of
course,
somewhere
in
its
dusty
spread,
tapers
off
into
a
dark
tunnel,
where
lurks
the
eight-eyed
schemer,
"o'erlooking
all
his
waving
snares
around."
Sooner
or
later,
it
would
seem,
every
too
constant
buzzing
visitor
encroaches
on
its
domain,
and
is
drawn
to
its
silken
vortex,
and
is
eventually
shed
below
as
a
clean
dried
specimen;
for
this
is
an
agalena
spider,
which
dispenses
with
the
winding-sheet
of
the
field
species--epeira
and
argiope.
Last
week
a
big
bumble-bee-like
fly
paid
me
a
visit
and
suddenly
disappeared.
To-day
I
find
him
dried
and
ready
for
the
insect-pin
and
the
cabinet
on
the
window-sill
beneath
the
web,
which
affords
at
all
times
its
liberal
entomological
assortment--Coleoptera,
Hymenoptera,
Diptera,
and
Lepidoptera.
Many
are
the
rare
specimens
which
I
have
picked
from
these
charnel
remnants
of
my
spider
net.
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