a Swamp Beauty 



A RATTLESNAKE struck at me from 

 under a horizontal palmetto-leaf, 

 giving me a twinge of horror. It was a 

 solid specimen, with great fangs curving on 

 each side of its little tongue, and I had 

 touched it lightly with the toe of my boot 

 — but not intentionally. When its tail 

 whizzed I sprang back just in time to get 

 barely out of range. The jab was a sudden 

 and wicked exhibition of malignant energy, 

 albeit strictly in self-defense from the 

 snake's point of view, the force of it ap- 

 pearing to hurl the hideous monster, still 

 but half uncoiled, bodily along the ground. 

 It may have been imagination, yet I should 

 not hesitate to say upon oath that the 

 rusty colors on the thing's back and sides 

 191 



