30 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
characters, and it was said of old that they formed 
the words: 
If I could hear as well as see, 
No man of life would master me. 
Probably these letter-like markings on the creature’s 
belly, like the minute black lines, resembling writ- 
ing, on the pale bark of the holly tree, suggested 
some other more important meaning to the priests 
of an ancient cult, and gave the adder a peculiarly 
sacred character. 
To conclude, let me relate here how I once had 
to congratulate myself on having hurriedly snatched 
at and captured an adder at the moment of seeing 
it, and of its attempted escape. I was cautiously 
strolling along, hoping to see some good thing, in 
a copse in private grounds in the New Forest, a 
place abounding in adders and other interesting 
creatures. Night-jars were common there, and by 
and by one rose almost at my feet over the roots 
of an oak tree, and casting my eyes down at the 
spot from which it had risen, I spied a large adder, 
which, alarmed either at my step or the sudden 
flight of the bird, was gliding quickly away over 
the bed of old dry bleached leaves to its refuge at 
the roots of the tree. Oddly enough, it was not the 
first occasion on which I had come upon a night-jar 
and adder dozing peacefully side by side. It was 
a beautiful adder of a rich tawny yellow hue, with 
an intensely black broad zigzag mark, and as 
there was no time to lose, I dashed at and managed 
to catch it; then holding it up by the tail, what 
