430 SNAKES. 



free with those snakes which they have ascertained have no fangs at 

 all. In both cases, those impudent rogues, known as snake-charmers, 

 are perfectly free from danger ; and, as they find by experience that 

 snakes are very docile animals, they easily train them to their own 

 liking, until they become as playful and familiar as kittens. 



It would be difficult to demonstrate, why poisonous fangs have 

 been given by nature to some snakes, and denied to others. If for 

 the purpose of defence, then, we might look for them in all snakes. 

 So far as I have been able to observe, they are seldom brought into 

 action by the snake which possesses them. Snakes are not revenge- 

 ful ; neither are they prone to be the aggressors. I would hazard a 

 conjecture, that snakes, in capturing their food, very seldom, if ever, 

 make use of the poison-fangs : because a snake without these fangs 

 can just as easily secure its prey as a snake with them. I leave 

 this knotty question to be unravelled by the clever zoologists of our 

 own times ; hoping that they will be more successful than they have 

 been in their labours to convince us that birds do really anoint their 

 plumage with the matter contained in the oil-gland on the rump. 

 Firstly, the word " oil-gland" is a misnomer. Secondly, none of them 

 as yet (save the American, who is not to be trusted) have ever been 

 able to detect the smallest particle of the said matter on the plumage 

 of birds. Thirdly, all oily substances whatever are prejudicial to 

 the texture of feathers. And fourthly, some tribes of birds have no 

 gland given them by nature. Well ; but, be this as it may, the sup- 

 posed oil-gland of birds, or say, the use of it, is still on the anvil 

 Grammatici certant, &c. Let me proceed with the snakes. 



In the damp and gloomy forests of Guiana, are to be found some 

 of the largest snakes as yet discovered. There, basking in the noon- 

 day sun, wherever a discontinuance of the dense foilage will admit 

 its rays to enter, these magnificent monsters enjoy an undisturbed 

 repose during the day. When night sets in, they leave their favourite 

 haunts, and silently glide forth in quest of food. 



The nauseous smell or foe tor, which is said by some authors to 

 come from the bodies of these monster snakes and to infect the 

 atmosphere, is fabulous. The whimsical account of it deserves a 

 place on the shelves of a nursery library. I have never perceived 

 anything of the sort, although it has been my good fortune to come 



