able for our unpleasant feelings toward 

 this really intelligent and interesting little 

 beast. If lie were more widely known as " swift," 

 Sceloporus would be less detested. The z in " liz- 

 ard " adds a creepy, crawly, sinister something 

 to the name which even the wretched word 

 "snake" does not suggest. "Swift," the com- 

 mon name in some localities, is certainly more 

 pleasing, and, at the same time, quite accurately 

 descriptive. 



There is nothing deadly nor vicious, nor yet 

 unlovely, about the swift, unless some may hate 

 his reptile form and his scales. But he is 

 strangely dreaded. The mere mention of him 

 is enough to stampede a Sunday-school picnic. 

 I know good people who kill every swift they 

 meet, under the queer religious delusion that 

 they are lopping off a limb of Satan. "All rep- 

 tiles are cursed," one such zealot declared to 

 [83] 



"They peek 

 around the 

 tree-trunks." 



