THE SERPENT'S TONGUE 135 



these " vibrating forked threads " in literature have 

 flickered more startlingly, like forked lightning, and 

 to the purpose, than Ruskin's own. The passage 

 is admirable, both in form and essence; it shines 

 even in that brilliant lecture on Living Waves from 

 which it is taken, and where there are very many 

 fine things, along with others indifferent, and a few 

 that are bad. But there is this fault to be found 

 with it: after putting his question to the 

 " scientific people," the questioner assumes that 

 no answer is possible; that the stinging and hissing 

 and licking theories having been discarded, the 

 serpent's tongue can do no manner of mischief, and is 

 quite useless. A most improbable conclusion, since 

 the fact stares us in the face that the serpent does 

 use its tongue; for instance, it exserts and makes it 

 vibrate rapidly, but why it does so remains to be 

 known. It is true that in the long life of a species 

 an organ does sometimes lose its use without 

 dwindling away, but persists as a mere idle append- 

 age: it is, however, very unlikely that this has 

 happened in the case of the serpent's tongue; the 

 excitability and extreme activity at times of that 

 organ rather incline one to the opinion that it has 

 only changed its original use for a new one, as has 

 happened in the case of some of the creatures 

 mentioned in the passage quoted above. 



" A chameleon," says Ruskin, " catches flies 

 with its tongue," inferring that the snake has no 

 such accomplishment. Yet the contrary has been 

 often maintained. " The principal use of the 



