PROBABLY in no branch of natural history has such a spirit of inquiry been awakened within the last few years and so much valuable information elicited in consequenceas in Ophiology. Till comparatively lately a true comprehension of the Ophidians has been confined to the scientific alone. Apart from these, what was related of serpents was so confused with fable and traditional-not to say religious prejudice, that they have been contemplated only in their terrible and typical aspects; even the unbiassed, in writing of them, have often been led astray in this respect, and have allowed themselves to be influenced by preconceived ideas. Many of the popular errors may be traced back through ages of unquestioning writers to classic authors, whose worth as poets or historians has given them weight as naturalists. What Dr. Carpenter says of Bacon holds good with others, from Pliny downwards: "So far from contributing to our knowledge of natural history, he (Bacon) often gave additional force to errors by the weight of his authority." One such writer, in a work on Egypt, says of snakes, "Some have no teeth, but only hard gums, others only attack with their tongue; but the same end is attained in either case, viz., the insertion of the poison!" This author, being an authority in ancient architecture, is credited and quoted about snakes by those who forget to inquire whether he had studied herpetology as well as

archæology. It would seem superfluous, and an insult to the intel ligent reader, notwithstanding the authority of our great bard, to state that the tongue, even of an adder, is not "envenomed," to say nothing of innocuous snakes; and yet, you will scarcely visit the Zoological Gardens, in this year of grace 1875, without hearing well-dressed and apparently well-educated persons exclaim in horror, when they see the harmless pythons and innocent Coluber natrix send out their slender tongues, that the snake is "darting out its poisonous sting!" Not equally absurd, but of much scientilic interest, are other questions still debated regarding the ophidia. Their nocturnal habits, their native haunts in hidden retreats, caves, swamps, jungles, and inaccessible places, their sluggishness and timidity, have rendered them hard to reach and difficult to observe; consequently we have found some of our popular writers within twenty years, nay, naturalists themselves, differ regarding certain matters in snake history. Such, for instance, as the use made of the tongue; whether snakes do or do not lick their prey over with saliva previous to deglutition; whether they drink as well as eat, and if so, how or what; the precise periods of sloughing, and whether the age of the rattlesnake is to be decided by the number of joints in his tail, or why he is provided with a rattle at all, are points on which a diversity of opinions have existed. Love of

music, and the serpent's power of fascinating the doomed prey; whether snakes eat eggs, as affirmed of them, and whether the infant vipers find refuge in the parent's throat in time of danger, are also among the points inviting investigation, and on which authentic information is being accumulated.

In the contradictory statements of writers on these matters, the amateur naturalist finds himself beset with difficulties; for he has first to find out what to believe and what not of all he reads. We have a great deal of what may be called drawing-room natural history at the present day, and generally of the sensational kind. Travellers are. not always naturalists, and though they may contribute valuable information in one branch of science, it is possible that they may mislead in another. The present writer-a student also-while not presuming to pronounce decidedly on any of the above questions, ventures to offer information gathered both from personal observations, and from those on whose testimony reliance may be placed; evidence, therefore, which cannot be without its interest. And it can scarcely be denied that those who do sufficiently divest their minds of prejudice to study this much maligned class of reptiles, generally become their champions. Dr. Edward Nicholson, of the Madras Artillery, wrote his exceedingly interesting and lucid work. on "Indian Snakes (1870) "in hope of dispelling the lamentable prejudice existing against some of the most beautiful and harmless of God's creatures." Dr. Fayrer, in his Indian work, treats of the Thanatophidia only and professionally, but even these he admits to be unaggressive as a rule. S. Rymer Jones writes enthusiastically of

as

"these lithe and elegant beings." Pet snakes are common in all countries where they exist, and are still domesticated for their uses mousers; as, for the like "virtues," they have been protected and even worshipped from time immemorial. The celebrated collection belonging to Dr. Shortt, of Madras, will be visited by the Prince of Wales. Dr. Shortt's pet snakes are given to hiding in visitors' pockets occasionally, and will doubtless pay their compliments to H.R.H. in this friendly manner, preparatory to being established in an ophidium at Sandringham!

But, to return to the questions proposed; and, first, What do snakes "take to drink?" Schlegel, one of our most learned authorities, speaking on this subject, says: "On s'ignore si les serpents boivent, et s'il est juste d'opiner pour la negative; toutesfois on n'a jamais aperçu de fluides dans ceux dont on a examiné l'éstomac;" evidence, however, by no means conclusive.

In face of the fact that snakes are for the most part amphibious, some living entirely in the water, and that all, even land snakes, swim with ease, it seems strange that any doubt should ever have arisen regarding their bibulous propensities; yet some writers have broadly asserted "snakes never drink." Who of us does not remember a picture of a curly-headed child with a basin of milk before it; and a huge snake twining about the chair till its head was close to that of the child, who, with its spoon, endeavoured to beat away the intruder? How many of us in our tender years have gazed, awe-struck, at that terrible picture, not knowing whether it represented a fable, a fairy-tale, or some frightful reality-yet marvelling that no terror appeared in the face of the

child. The picture represented a familiar fact. The "monster" was the well-known "Pilot snake," or "Racer," Coluber contortrix, the common black snake of the United States; and the child, a native of New England, was sharing with it its morning meal as it had often done before. These " Racers," so called on account of their swiftness of movement, are remarkable for their intelligence in finding out a dairy, or a cellar in which milk is kept, and, having once discovered it, in retracing their way thither. They are in evil repute as robbers of milk and of the poultry yard; but in good repute as devourers of other snakes, even rattlesnakes. The writer has frequently seen these "Racers" of between five and six feet in length-sometimes two of them together-luxuriating at the bottom of a stream. They are apt to be spiteful if worried, and will snap pretty hard with their sharp teeth; but not being venomous are useful rather than not, as destroyers of vermin. Mr. Bell, the author of "British Reptiles," relates that a pet snake of his own came regularly every morning to drink from a saucer of milk placed for him. His pet, our common Coluber natrix, has also the credit of an excellent memory for milky localities; as have also various species of snakes. in other parts of the world.

A remarkable case where a cobra's love of milk proved the means of saving life happened to a friend of the writer, and who was one of the party present. Four officers were playing whist in a bungalow in India, when one of them, suddenly turning deadly pale, exclaimed in a hushed voice, "For God's sake keep still! I feel a snake about my legs." Accustomed to these stealthy intruders, the others did not lose presence of mind, but very gently bent down to get a look at the unwelcome visitor, when, sure enough,

a large cobra was twining and gliding about the legs of their comrade. Haste and disturbance would have been death to their friend. The one farthest from him rose as softly as possible, and stealing from the room the rest remaining motionless-soon crept back with a saucer of milk, which he placed as near as it was safe to venture. Soon they had the pleasure of seeing the creature gradually untwine itself and go to the milk-but not to enjoy much of it, for the moment the officer was free from its coils a stout stick soon disabled it, and the cobra was got rid of. Some snakes have the credit of sucking the teats of a cow for themselves, an impossible feat for a mouth so constructed. The "hoop snake" of Texas, and the Clothonia of India, are said to do this. That they do infest cattle sheds and places where cows are milked, is, no doubt, the case; but it is to suck up stray drippings only. Possibly they have been seen gliding around the legs of a cow to reconnoitre with their ever vigilant tongue, and this has given birth to another "traveller's tale," viz., that some snakes suck the udders of cows. Dr. Cantor, a member of the Zoological Society, and one of the great authorities on Indian sea snakes says he has "seen them both drink and also moisten the tongue, two distinct operations." Dr. Edward Nicholson, another of our Indian authorities, speaking of a harmless species, Tropidonotus, says: "It allows itself to be easily caught, and the offer of a drink of water will at once gain its heart." "All snakes drink water freely," he says, and that he has "frequently counted 100 gulps before the drinker was satisfied." Livingstone, who was a close observer of nature, tells us that some African snakes are known to come a long way to pools and rivers in order to drink. In his "Expedition to the

Zambezi " he also tells us that snakes were frequently found on board, often "floating down the river to us, and climbing easily by the chain. cable."

But without going abroad an attentive observer can learn a great deal for himself in a visit to the reptile house at the Zoological Gardens. He sees either a tank or a pan of water in most of the cages, and the pythons or other snakes lying coiled up in their bath in apparent enjoyment. The keeper informs us that when snakes are first brought in and placed in their cages they will drink, even although they refuse food. On one or two occasions a snake has drunk with such eagerness that the water in the tank has visibly sunk. A python in the museum of Paris, a few years ago, was eight weeks incubating her eggs, coiling herself upon them, and during the whole time, though she ate nothing, she drank frequently. In 1862 a rather rare English snake, Caronella Lavis, gave birth to some young ones in a cage in London, and Mr. Frank Buckland, in describing them, said, though not to be tempted with food, "they are very fond of water."

Dr. Fayrer says he had a Daboia (one of the most deadly snakes) which lived in confinement for a whole year without food or water, "obstinately refusing both," as if a rare thing for snakes to decline drink.

H. O. Lenz goes thoroughly into the matter of snakes drinking, and speaking from personal experiments. After keeping snakes for a considerable time without food or water, he placed them in a cage with the latter. "Upon their being killed and dissected, it appeared that the common snake and viper had not partaken of the water, but

the blindworm (Anguis fragilis, a limbless saurian) had." He reminds us that the numerous snakes which inhabit arid mountains or plains "can only quench their thirst in rain or dew." He thinks they require little water so long as they live in the open air. "It is an established rule that no water is found in the maw, stomach, or entrails of snakes killed in the open air, even when destroyed in water." "Snakes are never seen to go to drink in any part of the world." This is speaking very positively; but, as we have seen, the assertion is not borne out by some other writers equally conscientious and intelligent. Lenz quotes Rudolph Effeldt, of Berlin," the most eminent observer of living serpents," who found that snakes will always drink when kept at a uniform temperature of 18° Reaumur, through summer and winter. "They soon learn to drink from a vessel, and always with the tongue. If deprived of the tongue they will neither drink nor eat."`

It is well known that snakes when in confinement often refuse food for many months; and that their extreme sensitiveness and timidity, as well as their power of resistance, are so great, that their habits cannot, then, be cited as natural. Divested of the tongue, its most important organ, one might conjecture the utter helplessness of the creature. A young rattlesnake that could not be induced to take any other nourishment, drank milk eagerly, but died at the end of two months. Instances of thirsty snakes might be multiplied; but now a few words on the process of deglutition.

The popular error that serpents "lick their prey over with saliva ” is, perhaps, as easily explained as the drinking or "lapping" process. All snakes, whether poisonous or