fangs; because a snake without these fangs can just as easily secure its prey as a snake with them.

In the damp and gloomy forests of Guiana, are to be found some of the largest snakes as yet discovered. There, basking in the noon-day sun wherever a discontinuance of the dense foliage will admit its rays to enter, these magnificent monsters enjoy an undisturbed repose during the day. When night sets in they leave their favorite haunts and silently glide forth in quest of food.

Most lovely are the colors of some snakes when exposed to the rays of a tropical sun, but they fade in death and cannot possibly be restored by any application at present known.

All snakes in gliding onwards take a motion from right to left or vice versa, but never up and down, the whole extent of the body being in contact with the ground, saving the head which is somewhat elevated. This is equally observable, both on land and in water. When we see a snake represented in an up and down attitude we therefore know the artist is to blame. In no instance have I seen a snake act on the offensive. But when roused into action by the fear of sudden danger, 'tis then that in self-defense a snake will punish the intruder by a prick, not a laceration, from the poison fang, fatal or not fatal according to its size or virulence. Waterton.

SNAKE BITES, AND THE USES OF SNAKES.

PEOPLE used to believe that snakes could be charmed. The Indian by various artifices professed to exercise a mysterious influence on the poisonous reptile which had the effect of pleasing or irritating it with impunity. The belief that the charmers can handle poisonous snakes without suffering hurt received a sad shock by a circumstance which occurred in Madras...One of the most noted serpent-charmers about the district, chanced one morning to get hold of a cobra of considerable size, which he had conveyed to his home. He was occupied abroad all day, and had not time to get the dangerous fang extracted from the serpent's mouth... In the evening, he returned to his dwelling, considerably excited with liquor, and began to exhibit tricks with his snakes to various persons who were around him at the time. The newly-caught cobra darted at his chin and bit it, making two marks like pin points... The poor juggler was sobered in an instant. "I am a dead man," he exclaimed; "nothing can save me." His professional knowledge was but too accurate. In two hours he was a corpse...I saw

him a short time afterwards; his friends and brother jugglers had gathered round him. "No, no; he only forgot one little word, one small portion of the charm." In fact, they declared that he was not dead at all, but only in a sort of swoon, from which he would recover in seven days. But the officers of the barracks close to which the deceased had lived, interfered in the matter. They put a guard of one or two men on the house, but of course the poor serpent-charmer never came to life again.

There remains, however, another, and that an important point, which must not be passed over in silence. It is, what can be done to save the life of a person who has been bitten by a cobra or any other poisonous serpent?... It is within the bounds of possibility-may it not be so?-that the reader of these pages may be so unfortunate as to be bitten by a snake; my advice to him would be, instantly to suck the wound as hard as he can for some time... Care must be taken at the same time that the skin inside the mouth be perfect and unbroken; for, by a wise provision of nature, no external poison is an internal poison, and vice versa. Whether the saliva decomposes the poison or not, we are as yet ignorant; suffice it to say, that the poison of the snake, as has been frequently proved by experiment, is innocent when taken into the stomach, most deadly when applied to an external wound, however minute... We all of us recollect the story of Queen Eleanor, sucking the poison out of the wound in her husband's arm; and a wise and physiological queen she was; she could not have done better under the circumstances.

The flesh of snakes is not uncommonly eaten by the poor Bushman, and also by the Australian natives. Wandering along their vast deserts, and having but the bow and arrow to rely upon to kill an animal for their dinner, they often go many hours, nay even days, without flesh. The wild creatures soon find out that man is their enemy, and avoid him... Great as may be the natural cunning of the savage in the capture of his prey, greater still is the wariness of the wild deer or kangaroo to get out of the way. The puny arrows of the Bushman would fail to bring down any large animal, it would only go away and die of the wound; he therefore tips his arrow with poison... This poison is easily soluble in the blood of the victim, and his exertions to escape by flight only hastens the operation of the poison; as the motions of the muscles, and the accelerated action of the heart, soon distribute the fatal fluid throughout the system, and the animal quickly falls.

Curiosities of Nat. Hist.

THE BUFFALO AND HIS FEATHERED FRIEND.

THE animal in America commonly called the buffalo is erroneously named. Its proper name is the bison, and this animal differs considerably in its appearance and habits from the true buffalo of South Africa. Africa abounds in buffaloes; we see large herds of them feeding in all directions by day. When much disturbed by man, they retire into the densest parts of the forest, and feed by night only... We secured a fine large bull by crawling close to a herd; when shot, he fell down, and the rest, not seeing their enemy, gazed about, wondering where the danger lay. The others came back to it; and when we showed ourselves, much to the amusement of my companions, they lifted him up with their horns, and half supporting him in the crowd, bore him away... All these wild animals usually gore a wounded companion, and expel him from the herd; even zebras bite and kick an unfortunate or a diseased one. It is intended by this instinct that none but the perfect and healthy ones should propagate the species. In this case they manifested their usual propensity to gore the wounded, but our appearance at that moment caused them to take flight, and this, with the goring continued a little, gave my men the impression that they were helping away their wounded companion... He was shot between the fourth and fifth ribs; the ball passed through both lungs and a rib on the other side, and then lodged beneath the skin. But though it was two ounces in weight, yet he ran off some distance, and was secured only by the people driving him into a pool of water, and killing him there with their spears... The herd ran away in the direction of our camp, and then came bounding past us again. We took refuge on a large anthill; and as they rushed by us at full gallop, I had a good opportunity of seeing that the leader of a herd of about sixty was an old cow; all the others allowed her a full half length in their front... On her withers sat about twenty buffalo-birds, which act the part of guardian spirits to the animals. When the buffalo is quietly feeding, this bird may be seen hopping on the ground picking up food, or sitting on its back ridding it of the insects with which their skins are sometimes infested...The sight of the bird being much more acute than that of the buffalo, it is soon alarmed by the approach of any danger, and flying up, the buffaloes instantly raise their heads to discover the cause which has led to the sudden flight of their guardian. They sometimes accompany the buffaloes in their flight on the wing; at other times they act as above described.

Another African bird, namely the Buphaga Africana, attends the rhinoceros for a similar purpose. It is called "kala" in the language of the Bechuanas; when these people wish to express their dependence upon another they address him as "my rhinoceros," as if they were birds. The satellites of a chief go by the same name...The bird cannot be said to depend entirely on the insects on that animal, for its hard hairless skin is a protection against all except a few spotted ticks; but it seems to be attached to the beast, somewhat as the domestic dog is to man; and while the buffalo is alarmed by the sudden flying up of its sentinel, the rhinoceros, not having keen sight, but an acute ear, is warned by the cry of its associate. The rhinoceros feeds by night, and its sentinel is frequently heard in the morning uttering its well-known call, as it searches for its bulky companion... One species of this bird, observed in Angola, possesses a bill of peculiar scoop or stone forceps form, as if intended only to tear off insects from the skin; and its claws are as sharp as needles, enabling it to hang on to an animal's ear, while performing a useful service within it...This sharpness of the claws allows the bird to cling to the nearly insensible cuticle without irritating the nerves of pain on the true skin, exactly as a burr does to the human hand; but in the cases in question other food is partaken of, for we observed flocks of them roosting on the reeds, in spots where neither tame nor wild animals were to be found.

The most wary animal in a herd is generally the "leader." When it is shot, the others often seem at a loss what to do, and stop in a state of bewilderment. I have seen them then attempt to follow each other, and appear quite confused, no one knowing for half a minute or more where to direct the flight. On one occasion I happened to shoot the leader, a young zebra mare, which at some former time had been bitten on the hind leg by a carnivorous animal, and thereby being made unusually wary, had in consequence become a leader... If they see either one of their own herd or any other animal taking to flight, wild animals invariably flee. The most timid thus naturally leads the rest... The great increase of wariness which is seen to occur when the females bring forth their young, causes all the leaders to be at that time females; and there is a probability that the separation of sexes into distinct herds, which is annually observed in many antelopes, arises from the simple fact that the greater caution of the she-antelopes is partaken of only by the young males, and their more frequent flights now have the effect of leaving the old males behind. I am inclined to believe this, because, though the antelopes, as

the pallahs, &c., are frequently in separate herds, they are never seen in the act of expelling the males... There may be some other reason in the case of the elephants, but the male and female elephants are never seen in one herd. The young: males remain with their dams only till they are full grown; and so constantly is their separation maintained, that any one familiar with them, on seeing a picture with the sexes mixed, would immediately conclude that the artist had made it from his imagination, and not from sight. Livingstone.

THE GIRAFFE.

THESE gigantic and exquisitely beautiful animals adorn the forests of the interior of Southern Africa, but are nowhere to be met with in great numbers. A herd, varying from twelve to sixteen, is composed of giraffes of various sizes, from the young of nine or ten feet in height to the dark chestnutcolored old bull, whose exalted head towers above his companions, generally attaining a height of upwards of eighteen feet.

Some writers have discovered ugliness and a want of grace in the giraffe, but I consider that he is one of the most strikingly beautiful animals in the creation, and when a herd of them is seen scattered through a grove of the picturesque parasol-topped acacias which adorn their native plains, and on whose uppermost shoots they are enabled to browse, he must indeed be slow of conception who fails to discover both grace and dignity in all their movements... There can be no doubt that every animal is seen to the greatest advantage in the haunts which nature designed him to dwell. I have often traced a remarkable resemblance between the animal and the general appearance of the locality in which it is found.

In the case of the giraffe, which is invariably met with among venerable forests, where innumerable blasted and weather-beaten trunks and stems occur, I have repeatedly been in doubt as to their presence, until I had recourse to my glass. On referring instances to my savage attendants, I have known even their practised optics fail,—at one time mistaking dilapidated trunks of trees for cameleopards, and again confounding real cameleopards with these veterans of the forest.

After many mischances, how shall I describe the sensations I experienced as, on a cool November evening, after rapidly following some fresh traces in profound silence, for several miles, I at length counted from the back of my most trusty