142 
BULL-SNAKE. 
“ That’s about it. Ugh ! this is a dainty dish 
to set before a queen,” he said, depositing the 
stupefied reptile, which he held by the head, 
wrapped in cotton, in the box at Mrs. Maxwell’s 
feet. “ There,” making her a bow of mock 
solemnity, “ I wish you much joy, madam ; 
wreaking upon that fellow the hereditary ven- 
geance your sex owe his family; on account 
of the entanglement into which his primal pro- 
genitor beguiled your first fair representative, you 
know.” 
“Thank you,” she bowed in return. “ I can’t 
say I feel sufficiently inspired with that revenge- 
ful spirit to begin operations just this moment.” 
And she regarded the great spotted reptile with 
a slight shiver of disgust — very womanly, but 
quite unbecoming to a naturalist. “ Shut him 
up, and we will take him into camp.” 
The snake-box was a prearranged affair with 
a sliding cover, and as Mr. H- stooped to 
close it he paused to give his sleeping trophy a 
closer inspection, remarking as he did so : 
“ He isn’t so pokin’. I believe he’s what 
plebeians call a bull-snake, and an unusually 
likely member of his family; don’t you think so, 
Mrs. Maxwell ? ” 
“ He seems to be in very good condition,” she 
replied ; adding, “ of course there were no eggs in 
the nest ? ” 
