432 SNAKES. 



power. Choose what position you please, either exactly in front of 

 a serpent, or on either side of it, and its eye will appear as though 

 it were looking directly at you. Take a clear view of it, and you 

 will see that it does not move. It has been placed by nature under 

 a scale, similar in composition to the scales of the body ; and when 

 the snake casts its slough, this scale comes away with it, and is 

 replaced by a new one on the new skin. The cast-off slough always 

 appears inside out. I am not a believer in the evil eye of snakes. 

 Their eyes are very beautiful ; and no doubt, they would be much 

 admired, did the beholder lay aside his prejudices and consider that 

 the snake before him has no intention to create alarm, nor to 

 meditate a work of mischief. 



In no instance have I seen a snake act on the offensive. But, 

 when roused into action by the fear of sudden danger, 'tis then that, 

 in self-defence, a snake will punish the intruder by a prick (not a 

 laceration) from the poison-fang, fatal or not fatal, according to its 

 size and virulence. Noli me tangere. do not touch me with in- 

 tent to harm me, is a most suitable motto for a snake. This has 

 been my opinion of snakes ever since I have had anything to do 

 with them. The concluding adventure in this essay will show the 

 reader that I have not been labouring under a delusion. 



Our own snakes, here in England, are scarcely worth notice, so far 

 as their venom is concerned. One species, which I designate under 

 the name of adder, is a harmless little fellow, and very useful during 

 the summer months in clearing the fields of mice. I say summer ; 

 for when the heats have passed away it retires underground, there 

 to slumber in profound repose until the invigorating sun of April 

 warms it into action. Our other snake is the well-known viper, 

 armed with two small poison-fangs, which, by the way, are very 

 seldom used. The blind worm, wrongly so called, is harmlessness 

 itself. The young naturalist, in his rambles through the country, 

 has but little to apprehend from the viper. He may pass close to 

 one, a thousand times, and if he does not actually put his foot upon it, 

 he may be quite sure that the viper will never use its fangs against 

 him, or even show them by way of menace. 



When we consider the immense extent of tropical America, and 

 view its endless woods, we are forced to admit that snakes are compara- 



