SNAKES. 
261 
head, expecting to be petted and made much of like a kitten. 
The children over and over again took its head in their hands 
and kissed its mouth, pushing aside its forked tongue in doing 
so. The animal seemed much pleased, but kept turning its 
head continually towards me with a curious gaze, until I allowed 
it to nestle its head for a moment up my sleeve. Nothing could 
be prettier than to see this splendid serpent coiled all round 
Mrs. M. while she moved about the room, and when she stood 
to pour out our coffee. He seemed to adjust his weight so 
nicely, and every coil with its beautiful marking was relieved 
by the black velvet dress of the lady. It was long before I 
could make up my mind to end the visit, and I returned soon 
after with a friend (a distinguished M.P. 1 ), to see my snake- 
taming acquaintance again. . . . 
These (the snakes) seemed very obedient, and remained in 
their cupboard when told to do so. 
About a year ago Mr. and Mrs. M. were away for six weeks, 
and left the boa in charge of a keeper at the Zoo The poor 
reptile moped, slept, and refused to be comforted, but when his 
master and mistress appeared he sprang upon them with delight, 
coiling himself round them, and showing every symptom of in- 
tense delight 2 
The end of this python was remarkatfe and pathetic. 
Mr. Severn tells me that some years after he had published 
the above letter Mr. Mann was seized with an apoplectic 
tit. His wife, being the only other person in the house at 
the time, ran out to fetch a doctor. She was absent about 
ten minutes, and on returning found that the serpent 
during her absence had crawled upstairs from the room 
below into that where her husband was lying, and was 
stretched beside him dead. Such being the fact, we are 
left to speculate whether the double seizure of the man 
and the snake was a mere coincidence, or whether the 
sight of its stricken master, acting on the emotions of a 
possibly not healthy animal, precipitated its death. Look- 
ing to the extreme suddenness of the latter, as well as to 
the fact of the animal having pined so greatly for his 
friends while it was confined at the Zoological Gardens, 
I think the probability rather points to the death of the 
1 This gentleman was Lord Arthur Knssell. 
2 The Times, July 25, 1872. 
