THE SLOW-WORM. 
211 
general and deep-rooted prejudice attached to the ser- 
pent race. The viper and the snake, though they ex- 
perience no mercy, escape often by activity of action ; 
but this creature, from the slowness of his movements, 
falls a more frequent victim. We call it a 6 blind worm,’ 
possibly from the supposition that as it makes little 
effort to escape, it sees badly ; but its eyes, though 
rather small, are clear and lively, with no apparent de- 
fect of vision. The natural habits of the slow-worm are 
obscure ; but living in the deepest foliage, and the 
roughest banks, he is generally secreted from observa- 
tion ; and loving warmth, like all his race, he creeps 
half torpid from his hole, to bask in spring-time in the 
rays of the sun, and is, if seen, inevitably destroyed. 
Exquisitely formed as all these gliding creatures are, 
for rapid and uninterrupted transit through herbage and 
such impediments, it is yet impossible to examine a 
slow-worm without admiration at the peculiar neatness 
and fineness of the scales with which it is covered. 
All separate as they are, yet they lap over, and close 
upon each other with such exquisite exactitude, as to 
appear only as faint markings upon the skin, requiring 
a magnifier to ascertain their separations ; and, to give 
him additional facility’ of proceeding through rough 
places, these are all highly polished, appearing lustrous in 
the sun, the animal looking like a thick piece of tarnish- 
ed copper wire. When surprised in his transit from the 
hedge, contrary to the custom of the snake or viper, 
which writhe themselves away into the grass in the 
ditch, he stops, as if fearful of proceeding, or to escape 
observation by remaining motionless, but if touched 
he makes some effort to escape : this habit of the poor 
slow-worm becomes frequently the cause of his de- 
struction. 
Of all the active, vigilant creatures that animate our 
paths, we have none superior to the little, bee-like 
bombylius (bombylius medius) ; but this creature is to 
be seen only in the mornings of a few bright days in 
spring, seeming to delight in the hot, windy gleams of 
that season, presenting an emblem of that portion of 
our year, fugitive and violent. It is, I believe, plentiful 
