60 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 



nal for war on the reptile with whatever weapons are 

 handy— stones, pitchforks, clubs, sticks, or heels. 

 Every man does his duty in the fray, and when the 

 poor mutilated creature squirms at that part where 

 he is not quite smashed, somebody remarks : " Oh, it 

 isn't of any use to hit it any more ; you know snakes 

 never die until after sundown " ; and we think so, or 

 believe we do, and proceed on our way satisfied that 

 the country is rid of one more big and dangerous 

 reptile. 



But what is the truth ? The farmer has lost one 

 of his best friends ; in proof of which, open the big 

 snake's stomach and see what is there — mice, insects, 

 grubs, slugs, rats, or moles, as the case may be; all 

 the worst enemies of the farmer. The very habits of 

 the reptile are suiBcient proofs of his harmless and 

 beneficent character. He is never out at night, and 

 in the spring he haunts the plowed fields and garden 

 patches, ever on the alert for mice, or, best of all, 

 grubs, cutworms, grasshoppers, and slugs. Yet in 

 spite of all this the garden hoe is an ever-ready 

 weapon with which to chase the poor thing from the 

 field, if not to eventually make miace-meat of him. 



It is a most curious fact that the greatest igno- 

 rance exists among many intelligent people regarding 

 snakes. One would scout at believing such absurd 

 things about any other kind of a creature, yet there 



