2L.l2.lbl

Presented to the
library of the

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

Betsy Taylor

.

i •'*

AWFUL CHANGES.

Man found only in a Fossil State - Reappearance of Ichthyosauri.

A Lecture “ You will at once perceive,” continued Professor Ichthyosaurus, “ that the skull before
us belonged to some of the lower order of animals; the teeth are very insignificant, the power of the jaws

CURIOSITIES

OF

NATURAL HISTORY.

BY

FRANCIS T. BUCKLAND, H.A.,

STUDENT OF CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD ;

ASSISTANT SURGEON SECOND LIFE GUARDS ; LATE HOUSE SURGEON OF

st. George’s hospital;

EDITOR OF THE LATE DR. BUCKXAND’S BRIDGEWATER TREATISE ON GEOLOGY

AND MINERALOGY.

EIGHTH EDITION.

LONDON:

RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.

1865.

LONDON :

PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET.

in JKemnri) of

THE FATHER,

10 WHOSE EXAMPLE AND INSTRUCTION

I OWE

THAT TASTE FOR NATURAL HISTORY

WHICH HAS FURNISHED ME WITH AGREEABLE OCCUPATION

DURING THE

LEISURE HOURS OF MY PROFESSION.

Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2018 with funding from
University of Toronto

https://archive.org/details/curiositiesofnatOObuck

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

In issuing a second edition of this collection of notes
on Natural History, I have to express my grateful
acknowledgments, both to the public and the press,
for the favourable manner in which they have received
and spoken of my endeavours to promote the observa¬
tion of facts which we see in daily operation among
the various members of the living animal world around
us. It is by observation alone that we can arrive at
truth ; and great truths are ascertained only by a
combination of numerous recorded facts.

Again, or for the second time, I make my bow ;
trusting to my readers to pardon all the imperfections,
which still, after a careful revision, I fear, have escaped
my notice.

F. T. BIJCKLAND,

2nd Life Guards, Knightsbridge Barracks.

March 1, 1858.
Athenaeum Club, Pall Mall.

CONTENTS.

A HUNT IN A HORSE-POND. 1‘aqe 1.

The Pond a small World. Frogs on the Watch. Tadpoles feed¬
ing. Skeletons made by Tadpoles. Sea Lice and Shrimps.
Use of Crab’s Claws. Shed Skins of Shrimps. Acute Sense
of Smell in the common Lobster. Clever Rooks. Show ers of
Frogs explained. Frogs’ Hiding-places in Hot Weather and
in Frost. Curious Provision for their Hybernation. They
absorb Water. Reservoir of Water inside their Bodies.
Dried human Bodies. Furnace-men and Stokers obliged to
drink much water. Croaking of Frogs. Horace and Ovid
allude to it. Adventure with Green-tree Frogs in a Ger¬
man Diligence. How the Croaking is produced. The Bul-
frog. Frogs in Giessen Pine Forest. Mode of killing them.
The Paris Frog-market. French Frog-catchers. The
Vienna Frog Preserve. Food of Frogs. They are useful to
the Farmer. Curious Deposit found in the Tower of Ely
Cathedral, in the Caves of Vavou, and in the Moat of an
old Castle. Frogs good Barometers. The Newt the King
of the Horse-pond. Howto catch him. Saleable Articles
to be found in the Pond. Stupidity of Newts, Their Cry
and Bite. Newts fighting. Their Eggs. Their Cast Skins.
Oysters fastened to the back of a Crab. Oysters can move
themselves. A green Lobster. Affection of the Lobster for
its Young. How it protects them. Cast Shells of Lobsters.
Mr. Gosse an Eye-witness of the Process of casting the
Shell. Larvse of Dragonflies in Weybridge Woods. Good
specimens of their Skins shed in the Process of Trans¬
formation. Secretion from- the Body of the Newt. Its Use.
Its unpleasant effects upon the Dissecter. Lizard sent by

CONTENTS.

XI

Post from America. A queer mode of dislodging a Newt
from a Man’s Stomach. Salamander’s Wool. The repre¬
sentatives of the Newt in Geological Times. Dr. Buck-
land’s Speech at Taunton.' His description of the Megalo-
saurus. Note taken at one of his Field Lectures. Megalo-
saurus and Iguanodon restored at the Crystal Palace by Mr.
Hawkins. Dr. Buckland ands Dr. Mantell first made out
their History. Lizard from Japan. Chameleons. The true
cause of their changing colour yet to be discovered. Toads
used as Beetle-traps by Entomologists. Decoy for Moths.
Toads destroy Bees. Poison of Toads, The part of the
body whei’e it is found. Its poisonous effects on a drunken
Man. Composition of the Poison. Mr. G. Rainey’s remarks
on the Poison. His observations on the Skin of the Toad.
Toads useful to Gardeners. They might be used to catch
Ants in London Houses. Dr. Buckland’s experiments in
detail to explain the stories of Toads found in Stones,
Trees, &c. Fossil Frogs. Bones of monstrous frog-like
Animals found Fossil. Newspaper story of an Antediluvian
Frog.

RATS. Page 56.

Horace’s description of a Rat’s Feast. Two kinds of Rats
in Great Britain. Proof of the French origin of the
Black Rat. Description of him. Why he is getting scarce.
His favourite Haunts. Few Black Rats in the London
Sewers. Experience of the Owner of the ‘ Happy Family.’
Black Rats near London Bridge and at the Isle of Dogs. A
Present from Bristol. History of the common Brown Rat.
An unsuccessful Experiment in Jamaica. The Brown Rat
in New Zealand. Australian Rats. A rare Species of Rat
in Oxfordshire. The breeding of Rats. A careful Mother.
Proof of Rats killing and eating each other — even when in
a Rat Pit. Their Cannibal Propensities indirectly beneficial
to their race and to Man. Cunning of a Pair of old Rats.
A dried Rat. Three cases of exhibitions of so-called ‘ Fossil

Xll

CONTENTS.

Men.’ Cross Breeds of Bats. Mr. Shaw’s calculation. A
bad Shot at a Bat. Bats at the Zoological Gardens. An in¬
valid Bat. Natural Beservoirs of Water in the African
Desert. Mice found where Bats cannot get at Food. A true
but horrible Story. The gnawing habits of Bats. They will
attack Men. Are fond of warmth. Impudence of College
Bats. Bats in Hair Warehouses. A Plea for the Rat. Pro¬
fessor Coleman’s remark. War proclaimed against Bats. Bats
at Montfaucon. Good use made of the dead Horses. Bats’
Skins sometimes used for leather. Use of Microscope in
examining Hairs. Danes’ Skin on Church-door. The Rats’
Tail. Its Use. Mr. Bishop’s Story. The Bat’s equipment.
Beautiful provision to keep his Teeth always sharp. Illus¬
trations from the Royal College of Surgeons. Beavers in
England. Rats gnaw Ivory. Reason why they do so. Mr.
R. Fauntleroy’s Ivory warehouse. Gnawed Tusks found in
store. Billiard Balls not made of Eat-gnawn Ivory. Rats
good Judges of the quality of Ivory. Specimens from Dr.
Buckland’s Museum. Ivory Tips. Facts about Billiard
Balls. The marks of Rats’ gnawings useful to the pur¬
chaser of Ivory. Mr. Fauntleroy’s Skull of wounded Ele¬
phant. Information about Ivory — Ivory Jelly. Rats
on board Ship. A set of drunken Bats. Wholesale destruc¬
tion of Bats. Bats killed in the Atmospheric Railway Pipes.
A lost Handkerchief. Tame Bats. The Author’s Expe¬
rience. Ship Bats. How to catch and hold a Rat. Observ
ations on the habits of the Bat. Cases of Rat, Horse, and
Camel Bites. The W’hipmaker’s pet Bat. The Bat Ikey.
Runaway Rats in the Vauxhall-road. Migration of Bats.
A Nondescript. A Ghost Story. Oxford Rats in the Long
Vacation. Migration of Rats on the Ilsley Downs. Story
of a Rat-eating Slave. His Traps. Chinese dried Bats.
Human Hair sometimes used for Manure. Tame Seals at a
Fair. India-rubber Dogs. A Californian Cock. A French
Lawsuit about a ‘ Trumpet Bat.’ French Sailors eat Bats.
Dr, Kane obliged to do so also. Admiral Beaufort’s expe-

CONTENTS.

Xlll

rience of Rats. Captain Inglefield’s Pets. Adventures of a
Dove. How to free Ships from Rats. The Long Boat over¬
board. The Water Rat. His Anatomy. His rudder-like
Tail. His Ears and Fur. Catching Water Rats. Their
Enemies. The Heron’s Bill. Structure of its Neck. A
good Fight. Use of serrated Claw of Heron. Parallel
Instances in other Birds. Fossil Water Rats. Hyaenas eat
Rats. Rat caught Fly Fishing. Rats’ Brains are highly
developed. How to destroy Rats. Method of Smoking
them out. An ingenious but simple Trap for Indoor Use.
Another kind for Farm-yards, Kennels, &c.

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO. Page 149.

Virgil’s Description of the death of Laocoon. The Man killed
by the Cobra in the Zoological Gardens, 1852. Beautiful
Structure of Snake’s Vertebrae. How he progresses without
feet. His attitude when climbing. Emblematic Meanings
of the Snake. Sagacity of the Fowls in Jamaica. Birds and
the Electric Telegraph. Skin of the Snake. Dr. Russell’s
Plates coloured by Natives. Cast Sloughs of Snakes. Hot¬
tentots’ Simile. Curious Disease of Snakes. Beautiful
structure of Snake’s skin when injected. Tail of Rattlesnake.
Coprolites of Snakes. Covent Garden Snakes and Vipers.
Vipers used medicinally. Theriacum. The Serpent’s Cavern.
Dr. Meade on Viper Broth. iEsculapius. Snake-catcher at
Cambridge. Adder’s Ears. Skinning a Boa Constrictor.
Snake’s Eggs. Snake Sugar-plums. The Bristol Monster.
External differences between venomous and harmless Snakes.
Instances of carelessness on the part of Modellers. Bronze
Casts of Lizards, &c. Mr. Hancock’s Group in Silver. The
Snake Plant. Vegetable Caterpillars. Exhibition of Hot¬
tentot Adder. A Hairy Viper. Double-headed Snake.
Anatomy of Head of Boa Constrictor. Arrangement of the
Teeth. Guinea Pig in Jack’s Head. Savage Boa Constric¬
tors. A Man eaten. How to kill a Snake. Instances cf

A1V

CONTENTS.

/ ' . *

Snakes swallowing Snakes. Poisonous Snakes. Remarks
on ‘the Sting.’ Scorpions. Centipedes. Poisonous Spur
<)f the Platypus. Teeth of venomous Snakes. Internal Teeth
of an African Snake. Fangs of Cobra. Preparations in the
College of Surgeons. Poison Glands. Microscopic appear¬
ance of Poison of Puff Adder. Experiments with it. Also
with Wourali Poison. Shed Teeth of Snakes. Attempt to
explain an old Story. Poisoned Arrows. Old William and
the Crocodile. Hood of Cobra. Speculations as to the
mode of progression of the §nake before the Curse. And
upon the meaning of the Words ‘Dust shalt thou eat'
Cobras in Egypt. Pharaoh’s Magicians. The Plague of
Fiery Serpents. Testimony of Herodotus. Mr. Broderip’s
description of the Snake-charmers. Tricks of the Ope¬
rators. An Accident. Flow to treat a Person bitten by a
poisonous Snake. Native Snake Doctors. Boy bitten by a
Viper. Remarkable Cure of a Man bitten by a Cobra in
India. Comments upon the Story. The Author poisoned
by a Cobra di Capello. A narrowr Escape.

FISH AND FISHING. Page 227.

Punt-fishing at Windsor. Salmon-fishers pleased. Gudgeon.
Charon’s Receipt to make them bite. Lines made of human
Hair. Also from the Tails of the Queen’s Horses. How to
‘ Plug a Pope.’ Instinct in Fish. Pullah-fishing in India.
Gudgeon Tracks on the Mud. Dr. Buckland’s Paper on
Fossil Fish Tracks. Fish can alter their Colour. Instances.
‘ Black Ivory.’ Skeleton of a Brigantine Chief. Fishes’
Nests. Mr. Crouch’s Observations. Mr. Hancock’s Descrip¬
tion of the building of the Nest. Sticklebacks in the Isle of
Dogs. Remarks on stuffing Fish. Charon’s Rushes.
Otters in the Thames. A monster Jack. The last Thames
Salmon. Prussian Carp at Oxford. A new species of
Mussel-shell. Ingenious rod top. The meaning of a
‘ drowned ’ Fish. Beautiful instance of design seen in the

CONTENTS.

XV

Jack and Stickleback. Attempt to explain a remarkable
Passage in the Book of Job. The Roach. Observations on
the Mouths of Fishes. Angling for Sea Gulls. Wing Bones
of Birds. The anatomy of the Solan Goose. The Teeth of
the Rock Fish. The head of the Gurnard. Gold Fish.
Their Food. Fate of a Hedgehog. Supply of Gold Fish to
the London Market. Eels found in the Fountains at
Charing- Cross. How they got there. A blind Eel. Potted
Eels. The Air-bladder of Fishes and Eels. Curious effect
of Frost on Conger Eels. Jews fond of Fish. A cartload
of Gold Fish. Mr. Hall’s remarks on Gold Fish living in
Water at a High Temperature. Fish in the Serpentine.
Cause of the Colour of the Water. Ingenious mode of
setting Night Lines m the Serpentine. Decoy for Perch.
A starved Perch. Choked Kingfisher. Parallel Instances.
The Barbel. His back Fin. Its Mechanism imitated by
Barge-builders. Spines in back Fin of the Dog Fish. Dr.
Buckland’s Remarks on this Subject- A Sea-Snake Story.
The Dogger-bank. Ground Bait. Earth Quarries. Holes
dug by the Ancient Britons. Their contents accounted for.
A greedy Cow. A chest of Worms. Remarks on Gentles.
Fishing in Flood Time. Bleak. Their Scales. Used to
make Artificial Pearls. The Oxford Pactolus. Roman
Basse. Sharks’ Skins. Soles’ Skins. Parasites on the
Jack, Cod, Barbel, Roach, and Gold Fish. A good place
for Angling.

MY MONKEY JACKO. Page 291.

iuriosities in the Shops at Havre de Grace. Monkeys for Sale.
Jacko discovered at Bayeux. He changes Masters. His
first Piece of Mischief. * Blackguard Monkeys.’ Jacko and
his Blue Bag. Zoological Opinion of a Railway Official.
Tortoises for Sale in London. A gourmand Omnibus driver.
Zouave’s Mode of killing Tortoises. The Christ Church
Turtle. Boy bitten by a Turtle. Jacho’s Home in

X.V1

CONTENTS.

England. A Monkey in a Manger. An old Man and his
old Donkey. What becomes of all the old Post-boys.
Jacko a capital Mouse-catcher. The Cook’s Experiment.
It signally fails. A careful Old Woman. The Dog
on guard. Jacko and the Black-beetles. Use of the
Monkey’s Cheek Pouches. Monkeys on the Rock of
Gibraltar. Natural Purses. How London Street Boys carry
their coppers. A sturdy little Fellow. The poor sick Boy
and the Baker’s Shop. The Housemaid’s Assistant. Jacko
escapes. The Pursuit. The Village in an Uproar. Jacko
repents running away. My Monkey Jenny. A stand-up Fight.
Jenny loose in Westminster. Her Cunning and Activity,
She gets loose again and is shot at. Foxes at Leadenhall
Market. A Fox loose at Clapham. He i s caught in a Wire.
Curious Result. Jacko attempts to clean the Knives, Shoes,
and Candlesticks. A pretty Mess. His warm Bath. He
is nearly boiled alive. An Operation. Jacko goes to
Oxford. His Tricks again. Scene with the Authorities.
Jacko dies. The Beetles’ Revenge.

APPENDIX. Page 321.

INDEX. P4ge 352.

PREFACE TO THE FIFTH EDITION.

No less than four thousand five hundred copies of this
work having been sold since its first publication, I am
induced to issue another Edition.

As it is difficult to alter stereotyped plates, I have
added, in the form of an Appendix, some notes and
letters from correspondents relative to matters men¬
tioned in my pages as first issued. I here beg to thank
those who have kindly written to me for their per¬
mission to publish their observations. Several passages
will be found from “ The Naturalist ” columns of “ The
Field ” newspaper, which the Editor has kindly allowed
me to reprint.

I have also made an Index to facilitate reference to
whatever the reader may wish to look at a second time.

The longevity of this collection of notes on Natural
History cannot but be gratifying to all concerned in
its welfare ; and my Publisher holds out hopes that it
will for some time continue to occupy a place among
the popular literature of the day

Francis T. Buckj.axd.

Kniglitsbridge Barracks,

London , S. W.

Sept . 15, 1860.

b

PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

The demand for this little book has induced me, at
my Publishers request, to issue a Fourth Edition. I
myself should lordly have thought it worthy of the
honour ; the Public are the best judges. To them, to the
Reviewers, who have so favourably noticed its contents,
and to the many kind persons who have sent me com¬
munications on matters treated in its pages, I cannot be
sufficiently grateful. And with best thanks,

Beg to subscribe myself,

Theirs most obliged,

Cavalry Barracks, Windsor;
December 1, 1858.

THE AUTHOR

PEEP ACE TO THE EIEST EDITION.

The Preface is generally the last portion of a book
which is written, and on this account it ought to he
read first. I would beg of those into whose hands
this book should come, to reverse the usual order
of things, and to read the Preface before they dip
into the contents. They will then know why it was
written.

Eor many years I had the great privilege of being
much in the company of my lamented father, the Very
Eev. William Buckland, D.D., &c., &c., Dean of West¬
minster. I never missed one course of his lectures
during the time I was at Oxford, and he hardly ever
went out on any geological or other expedition with¬
out taking me with him.

Always a diligent note-taker himself, he encouraged
me in putting down every fact with which I was pre¬
viously unacquainted, and in this way I accumulated
much information, both from him and from other
sources.

These notes during the last five years I have oc
casionally put together, and published in ‘ Bentley’s
Miscellany,’ and in a rising little periodical, ‘The
St. James’s Medley.’ I have now collected, and have
at the same time added very considerably to them.

I heard, not long ago, of a preparer of microscopic
objects, who complained that ‘ he had exhausted the
animal kingdom.’ I am well aware that many books
have been written on natural history, but still am of

VI

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

opinion that the animal kingdom is not yet ‘ exhausted,’
and with this belief, I have written the following pages.

In natural history, as well as in other researches, it
is^too much the practice to copy facts and observations
from printed books, the great volume of Nature herself
being left unopened. It has been my endeavour to
search into this book, and to record facts which came
under my own eyes. I have, nevertheless, not hesi¬
tated to use the eves of other naturalists, at times

V '

and places when it was impossible to use my own.
I have plainly marked as quotations all matter which
belongs to other persons : should any one recognize
any passage unacknowledged, he is requested to re¬
gard it as an oversight.

In the article on Hats will be observed several
references to a paper which appeared on the same
subject in the Quarterly Review, January 1857. I
have thought it right to draw attention to these, that
I might not be thought guilty of plagiarism.. The
article on Rats was published by me in Bentley’s
Miscellany, August 1852.

Without the knowledge of the structure and phy¬
siology of the lower members of the animal kingdom,
it would be difficult rightly to understand many func¬
tions of the human •economy ; and much light has
beeu thrown upon the art of healing by the study of
the lower links of the chain of animal life.

I would wish it, therefore, to be understood, that the
following pages have not been written to the neglect
of purel}r professional subjects of investigation. It
has been acknowledged by many of our greatest medical
men, that Natural History is the handmaid to the study
of medicine and surgery ; and this is amply proved
by the collection made by John Hunter, the immortal
founder of the Museum of the Royal College of
Surgeons. This great man points out to his followers
the necessity of studying comparative as well as human

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. vii

anatomy ; for he has begun his series with the lowest
form of animal life, ending with man himself.

My sincere thanks are due to the Council of the
ftoyal College of Surgeons, London, for their kind¬
ness in allowing me to have drawings made of speci¬
mens contained in their noble Museum ; a vast store¬
house of facts, the treasures of which can only he ap¬
preciated by those who examine for themselves. To
my friend Mr. Quekett, Curator of the Museum, I am
under great obligations, not only for his kindness in
giving me every facility of access to those specimens
I wished to examine, but also for much information
relative to the subjects under my investigation.

The drawings are by the anastatic process, but
have not come out so clearly as I could have wished.
The frontispiece, (photographed on wood from the
original) Plate I., is a reduction of a drawing made
many years ago lor Dr. Buckland by the late lamented
Sir Henry de la Beche. After my father’s death,
I found that a few copies only remained, and the
plate could not be found. Unwilling, therefore, that
it should be entirely lost, and at the same time having
every reason to believe that it had never yet been
published, I determined to endeavour to resuscitate- it
as worthy of the brilliant imagination of one of Dr.
Buckland’s most intimate friends. It was originally,
drawn as a sort of quiz upon his geological lectures
at Oxford, when he was treating upon Ichthyosauri, a
race of extinct fish-like lizards. The subject of the
drawing may be thus described — Times are supposed
to be changed. Man is found only in a fossil state, in
the same condition as the ichthyosauri are discovered at
the present epoch ; and instead of Professor Buckland
giving a lecture upon the head of an ichthyosaurus,
Professor Ichthyosaurus is delivering a lecture on the
head of a fossil man. Around the Professor, whose
jaws and teeth are monstrous as compared with those

Vlll

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION".

in a human subject, is gathered a class of attentive
listeners of the same race as himself, all anxious to
learn the history of the creature to whom the curious
and, in comparison to their own, diminutive skull
belonged. Professor Ichthyosaurus is made thus to
address his audience — ‘ You will at once perceive that
the skull before us belonged to some of the lower
order of animals — the teeth are very insignificant, the
power of the jaws trifling ; and altogether it seems
curious how the creature could have procured food.’

In the following pages no attempt is made at fine
writing, and the matter is put down much in the
order that it occurred to me.* I trust it may afford
some amusement, perhaps instruction, to those who
take an interest in the curiosities of Natural History.

F. T. BUCKLAXD,

2nd Life Guards, Knightsbridge Barracks.

Nov. SO, 1857.

Athenaeum Clab, Pall Mall.

* The above statement is fully borne out by the * Saturday
Review,’ who in mentioning the book says, ‘ Mr. B ckland’s
book reads like the contents of a note-book, thrown out pell-mell.’
Its aim is rather, again to quote the same journal — ‘ amusement
and profit,’ than literary excellence.

CURIOSITIES

OF

NATURAL HISTORY.

A HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

Pray what is there to be found in a horse-pond except
mud, dead dogs and cats, and duck-weed ? the reader
may ask. — Pray what is to be found in that trumpery
ball they call the earth? the 4 Man in the Moon’ may
demand of his neighbour Saturn as they both come out
for their evening stroll. The answer to such questions
is, simply, 4 Life; Life in all diversity of form, beau¬
tifully and wonderfully arranged, each individual de¬
riving benefit from the well-being of the mass ; the
mass itself prospering in ratio with the individual.

To the inhabitants of the pond, the pond is the world ;
to the inhabitants of the world, the world, as compared
to space, is but a pond; and when the adventurous
lizard has made a voyage of discovery round his pond,
he has as much right, comparatively speaking, to boast
of his performance to his fellow-lizards, as Captain Cook

B

2

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

had, when he first sailed round the world, to write two
thick volumes for the information of his fellow-men.
Well, let us have a look at the pond-world; choose a
dry place at the side, and fix our eyes steadily upon the
dirty water : what shall we see ? Nothing at first ; but
wait a minute or two ; a little round black nob appears
in the middle ; gradually it rises higher and higher, till
at last you can make out a frog’s head, with his great
eyes staring hard at you, like the eyes of the frog in
the woodcut facing JEsop’s fable of the frog and the
bull ; not a bit of his body do you see, he is much too
cunning for that, he does not know who or what you
are ; you may be a heron, his mortal enemy, for aught
he knows. You move your arm, he thinks it is the
heron’s bill coming; down he goes again, and you see
him not ; a few seconds, he regains courage and re¬
appears, having probably communicated the intelligence
to the other frogs ; for many big heads and many big
eyes appear, in all parts of the pond, looking like so
many Hippopotami on a small scale. Soon a conversa¬
tional ‘Wurk, wurk, wurk,’ begins; you don’t under¬
stand it ; luckily perhaps, as from the swelling in their
throats it is evident that the colony is outraged by the
intrusion, and the remarks passing are not compli¬
mentary to the intruder.

These frogs are all respectable, grown-up, well-to-
do frogs, and they have in this pond duly deposited their
spawn, and then, hard-hearted creatures ! left it to its
fate ; it has, however, taken care of itself, and is now
hatched, at least that part of it which has escaped the
hands of the gipsies, who not unfrequently prescribe
baths of this natural jelly for rheumatism.

In the shallow water close by, is a dark black spot,

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

3

that looks like a bit of old hat thrown away to rot.*
Touch it with the end of a stick — the mass immediately
becomes alive. Presto ! thousands of little black long¬
tailed rascals seem immediately to start into life : these
are embryo frogs, alias tadpoles, alias porwiggles, alias
loggerheads, alias toe-biters. This last significant title
has been given them by the amphibious boys of Clapham
Common, whose toes they bite, when fishing about for
fresh-water curiosities in the numerous ponds of that
district. These little creatures are evidently selfish like
other animals in the creation, for they are pushing,
squeezing, and hustling each other, like people going
to hear Jenny Lind. And pray what are they all so
anxious to get at? — simply a dead kitten. And why
should they not fight for good places? The dead kitten
is to them what a turtle dinner is to the City folks ; each
duly appreciated by the rightful consumers.

But supposing there happens to be no dead kitten or
decayed vegetable matter in their pond, what will the
poor things get to eat ? Why then they will do what
the New Zealanders have done before them ; they,
the New Zealanders, ate up every specimen of the
Dinornis they could find on their island, and then they
set to work and ate up each other ; so do the tadpoles.
You ask a proof: last year, I went, with a tin quart-
pot in my hand, toe-biter hunting, on Clapham Corn-

* Some beavers were one day building their dam across a
river, when an old hat came floating down the stream and lodged
against their dam ; the beavers collected round it and examined
it; at last one of them applied his nose to it and exclaimed
‘ Alas ! our grandfather.’ This happened in the days when
beavers were killed and their skins made into hats. The
grandfather had returned to his colony in the form of a hat.

B 2

4

HUNT IX A HORSE-POND.

nion, and brought home exactly a quart of tadpoles ;
these I emptied into a tub in the beer-cellar ; there
they lived, being fed on meat several days, till one
evening, on sending for a glass of the all-refreshing
fluid, up comes John with half a smile on his face, and
simpers out, 4 If you please, sir, I have brought the beer,
but I have upset the tadpoles.’ On arriving at the scene
of the disaster, there were the poor things high and dry
on the floor. I restored them to their tub, but forgot
to put back their meat. The next morning, I found
some had not recovered their accident, and round the
bodies of their departed brethren, were crowded the
cannibal survivors, eating and pulling away, each for
himself. After this, I left them much to themselves,
and their numbers diminished considerably ; the cook’s
opinion being, as usual, that that omnivorous creature,
4 the cat’ had a hand in it ; bringing forward as an argu¬
ment, which is not strictly zoological, as applied to tad¬
poles, that the 4 cat is fond of fish.’

By the discovery of skeletons, murders are often
brought to light; so it was in the case of Tadpole v.
Cat ; the skeletons of the murdered froglings I found
in abundance at the bottom of their tub : and wonderful
skeletons they were, the form of the little creatures
being beautifully shown in a framework of delicate
gristle, the various parts still united together, but
separating on the slightest touch. I have sometimes
seen capital skeletons of small animals in ponds, the
flesh having been eaten away by tadpoles. In the
United Service Museum are some very perfect
skeletons of sea-birds made somewhat in the same wav ;
they were brought home from the Arctic regions, and
were made by the sea-lice : the birds were let down into

HUNT IN A HOUSE-POND.

6

the sea to an immense depth, and left there twenty-four
hours ; these bones are as white as ivory.

Common shrimps are capital skeleton-makers : these
little creatures are wonderful scavengers, and eat up
the vegetable and animal refuse of the ocean. Behind
the ancient fort at Tilbury, opposite Gravesend, is a
considerable extent of flat ground, intersected by deep
ditches. In these ditches I found swarms of shrimps
feeding on the weed along the banks : though I could
see them plain enough, I found it very difficult to catch
them ; for the moment my hand-net touched the surface
of the water they vanished — shooting away like little
meteors ; and even when I did get them in the net they
hopped out like gigantic fleas. I discovered a small
sluice-gate, through which a shallow stream of water
was running : looking over very quietly, I saw thou¬
sands of these little shrimps, all with their heads pointed
up stream, feeding upon what they could find. Pre¬
sently a crab, about three inches and a half long,
appeared at the top of the water, then another, and then
another: and these perpetually caught with their claws
at passing portions of what they saw floating by ; when
they had got anything they sunk with it, probably to
devour it. Till then I never quite understood the use
of a crab’s claws ; though clumsy-looking things, the
crab can wield them with great activity and neatness,
and they seldom missed what they clutched at. The
boys, taking advantage of this, drop into the stream a
common bit of string, the crab seizes hold and goes to
the bottom to examine his prize ; but before he has time
to ascertain that it is not edible, and to let go, the boy
whips him up on to the land. Over the place where
the shrimps were feeding, I observed masses of a white

6

HUNT INT A HORSE-POND.

looking substance floating : I got them up, and they
turned out to be the shed skins of the shrimps ; for
shrimps shed their skins as well as lobsters. From
examination, I should conclude that the shrimp emerges
from his old skin at the junction of the tail with the
body ; he sheds even the skin of his antennae or feelers,
as well as of the peculiar saw-like weapon which pro¬
jects between his eyes. When lobsters shed their outer
skins, strange to say, they shed also the lining membrane
of their stomachs. I could not find any of the lining mem¬
brane of the stomach among the shrimp skins. They
were for the most part much broken up ; but I picked
out two or three good specimens which are now in the
College of Surgeons.

My friend, Mr. Roberts of Worthing, has informed me
that both lobsters and prawns have the most acute sense
of smell. Nine miles out at sea, off Lyme Regis in
Dorsetshire, is a ledge of chalk rocks abounding with these
animals. If a basket be let down, the prawns directly
crowd together around it: if it be daylight, and they
can see the boat, they will not go in, but at night they
go in in great numbers. Mr. Roberts says a lobster
will smell a putrid object a hundred yards off. A crab
is caught with fresh bait only. When at Weyrmouth,
many years ago, with my father, I recollect his telling
me a story of a large ship being wrecked off the Isle of
Portland, and that many persons were drowned. Soon
after thg wreck, a great number of lobsters and prawns
were caught, and none of the Weymouth folks would
eat them, because they were supposed to have fed on
the bodies of the drowned people, and this was very
possibly the case. The lobsters were therefore sent
off to London, for the benefit of those who did not

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

<

know their history. It is extraordinary how soon
animals and birds find ont the place where there is any¬
thing to eat (we may include our own species among
the animals). The regiment to which I belong very
frequently marches down to Wormwood Scrubs, for field-
days. Upon arriving at the Scrubs, I have not seen a
single rook ; but the rooks very soon appear : they come
to pick out what they can from the dung of the horses,
and the bits of bread which drop out of the paper in
which the men carry their refreshment. The rooks
always go to the place where the regiment has dis¬
mounted, as there they find most to eat, These rooks
come I believe from the trees in Holland Park — they
certainly often arrive from that direction.

The habit of eating each other among the tadpoles
may by some be considered horrible and unnatural ;
but when we consider the thousands that are hatched
from the egg, its beneficial use in the economy of nature
will at once be perceived. Were all the young tad¬
poles to become frogs, not only would mankind be
cursed with a plague of Egypt, but the frogs themselves
would suffer, inasmuch as there could not possibly be
food for all, and starvation would be the consequence.
Thus, by inquiry into the ways of an all-wise and
munificent Creator, we may generally find that what
at first sight seems cruel, is in reality merciful and
kind.

Come again to the horse-pond a few weeks after the
tadpole era, and you will find hundreds of lively little
frogs, no longer black specks, but having lost their gills,
and their tails, and their dead-kitten appetites, sent
forth to fight their way in the world ; or may-be, not in
the world, but in the regions of the air above the

o

HUNT IX A HORSE-POND.

world, thence suddenly to descend, to the astonishment
of rustics, and to the delight of those profound phi¬
losophers, newspaper naturalists.

I will not enter into the various changes assumed by
the tadpole before it becomes a frog : this transformation
has been ably described elsewhere. Those who wish to
see with their own eyes what happens have only to go
to the College of Surgeons, where they will find a series
of models, of gigantic size compared to the originals,
illustrating this point. These models were presented by
Professor Echer of Freiburg.

It may not here be out of place to give the interpre¬
tation of frog showers, as now most generally received
by competent judges. The actual fact, that consider¬
able spaces of ground have been suddenly covered with
numerous small frogs, where there were no frogs before,
has been proved beyond a doubt. Some have called in
the aid of waterspouts, whirlwinds, and similar causes,
to account for their elevation into the regions of air,
and some have even thought that they were formed in
the clouds, from whence they were precipitated. It has
generally been in August, and often after a season of
drought, that these hordes of frogs have made their
appearance; but, with Mrs. Siddons, we will exclaim,
‘How gat they there?’ Simply as follows: — the
animals had been hatched, and quitted their tadpole
state and their pond at the same time, days before they
became visible to, or rather observed by, mortal eyes.*
Finding it unpleasant in the hot, parched fields, and also
running a great chance of being then and there dried up

* I am not sure that I am right in this theory, and feel half
inclined to recant. See Appendix, pages 321 and 327.

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

9

by the heat of the sun, they wisely retreated to the
coolest and dampest places they could find, namely,
under clods and stones, where on account of tfleir dusky
colour, they escaped notice. Down comes the rain, out
come the frogs, pleased with the chance. Forthwith
appears an article in the county paper ; the good folks
flock to see the phenomenon. There are the frogs
hopping about ; the visitors remember the shower, and
a ‘ simple countryman ’ swears the frogs fell in the
shower, and he saw them fall : frogs, visitors, country¬
men, editors, are all pleased, and nobody undeceives
them, nor are they willing to be undeceived.

The skin of frogs readily absorbs water, and in hot
weather they always retreat to places where they will
find moisture, or at least a certain degree of dampness :
if you want to catch a frog on a hot day, you must look
under boards, clumps of grass, &c., and you will pro¬
bably find him at home. After a continuance of hot
weather, frogs are frequently found dead and quite
dried up, particularly on or near dusty roads : they
have probably come out of their damp hiding-places,
and the moisture of their bodies having been evaporated
before they had time to get back again, they have been
dried up like mummies. When water is scarce, frogs
collect together to keep each other moist. Water can
become scarce from frost as well as from heat ; and this
was curiously exemplified by what once happened at
Carlsruhe. The town, during a long frost, became
deprived of the usual supply of water for many days.
A great number of frogs, to shelter themselves from the
frost, took refuge in the hydraulic engines by means
of which the houses are supplied with water. The cold
increasing, the frogs got up into the pipes, and in

HUNT IN A IIORSE-POND.

many places became agglomerated into a mass so
compact, that it was with the greatest difficulty they
were cleared out, and a passage for the water made.
There is a curious fact as regards the hybernation or
winter sleep of frogs: of course in this state they cannot
eat : most other animals, as the bear, marmot, &c.,
which hybernate, lay up in their bodies a supply of fat
during the summer, which becomes absorbed in the
winter. According to this rule, a frog ought to be very
fat towards the close of summer, yet who ever saw a fat
frog ? Still a frog does lay up fat for winter consump¬
tion, not outside his body, but inside ; for we find that
the membrane which surrounds the intestines, the peri¬
toneum, contains remarkable folds, and in these folds a
fatty matter of a yellow colour is deposited, and this fat
is, with reason, supposed to be stored up there for winter
consumption. Dr. Townson, in his tracts on Natural
History, London, 1799, records a series of observations
which he made on frogs, and also on some toads :
these were directed chiefly to the very absorbent power
of the skin of these reptiles, and show that they ta*e
in and eject liquids through their skin alone, by a
rapid process of absorption and evaporation ; a frog
absorbing sometimes in half-an-hour as much as half
its own weight, and in a few hours the whole of its
weight of water, and nearly as rapidly giving it off
when placed in any position that is warm and removed
from moisture. Dr. T. contends that as the frog tribe
never drink water, this fluid must be supplied by means
of absorption through the skin. Both frogs and toads
have a large bladder-like sack, which is often found
full of water; ‘whatever this fluid may be,’ (he says),
‘ it is as pure as distilled water, and equally tasteless.

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

11

This I assert as well of that of the toad, which I
have often tasted, as that of frogs.’ I myself, have
frequently observed that when a frog is caught, by
suddenly ejecting a quantity of water he will diminish
his size nearly half. When you first catch him he
looks very fat, but in five minutes he looks thin
and half-starved ; place him all night in a little water,
shallow enough for him to sit comfortably in, and he
will have recovered his plumpness by the morning.

The bag, or receptacle where this fluid is collected,
looks like the organ generally called the bladder ; but it
is not the true bladder, for it is not in any way connected
with the kidneys : it is formed out of a peculiar mem¬
brane (called the allantois), and serves two purposes ; — ■
first, it acts as a simple water reservoir ; secondly, it
assists in the process of respiration, for when injected
with coloured size, the sides are found to be highly
vascular, resembling somewhat the true lung structure.

The body of man himself contains a large propor¬
tion of water, and if he has no water he soon dies. A
person can live longer without eating than he can
without drinking. The bodies of men found dead in the
deserts are dried up almost to nothing. The hot sand,
wind, and sun, have caused every drop of water to
evaporate from the flesh, and even from the bones.
The bodies thu* become very light in proportion to their
size.

In the College of Surgeons is the dried body of a
poor boy, that was found bricked up in a vault in a
London church. This boy was about twelve years of
age. He was found erect, with his clothes on, in a
vault underneath St. Botolph’s, Aldgate old church, in
the year 1742 ; and is supposed to have been shut in at

12

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

the time of the plague in London, in 1665, as the
vault had not been opened since that period till it was
pulled down. This body weighs only eighteen pounds.
Persons subject to great heat are obliged to drink
much water to supply that taken away by evaporation.
The Swansea copper furnace-man is exposed to great
changes of temperature : a thermometer at his chest
denotes 120°, one on his back, 60° or 70°. After two
hours’ exposure to the scorching blaze, he retires
to the open air to cool himself, and to drink ; his drink
is generally water, two or three gallons in twelve
hours ; but then he perspires six hundred gallons in
the year before his furnace. Yet, Dr. Williams reports
that he is ‘ a merry fellow, who lives to a good old
age, as hale, florid, and corpulent as his neighbours.’
I am informed, that when steam- vessels are voyaging
in the tropics, the heat of the engine-room, combined
with the temperature of the air, is so overpowering,
that the stokers and others have free access to an
unlimited supply of iced water, in which oatmeal has
been sprinkled ; the drinkers say this oatmeal prevents
so much water disturbing the stomach, and experience
in these matters generally leads to right conclusions. If
the men had not this water they would not be able to
withstand the evaporation, and the heat would kill
them. The human skin is in itself a great absorber of
water, and sailors exposed in the open sea without fresh
water, find their thirst relieved by applications to their
bodies of cloths wet with salt water. Man has been aptly
defined by a writer in the Quarterly Review as ‘Forty-
five pounds of carbon and nitrogen diffused through five
and a half pailfuls of water.’

For the poor little frog a cruel fate is often in store

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

13

• — no less than to be buried alive, in a two-legged, hat-
wearing tomb. I have often seen boys allow frogs to
jump down their throats (never to return), at a small
charge of one halfpenny each frog. 4 Fiat experi-
mentum in corpore vili ’ — they received no hurt, or ill
effects, therefore shall one of the race be honoured with
a free passage down yet another throat. I follow Mrs.
Glasse’s advice, and first 4 catch my frog/ then place
him on the brink of the abyss ; he hesitates, I don’t
half like it, one, two, three, he jumps — the deed is
done. Am I any the better or the worse for it? not
that I know of ; others are of a different opinion. I am
told that my 4 croaking fits ’ date their origin from the
moment poor frogee entered upon his fatal journey.
Many frogs have I eaten since this date, not 4 in statu
naturali,’ but cooked as a Frenchman only knows how
to cook ; and very good imitation of whitebait is a dish
of cooked frogs — the comparison will not hold when
the frogs have not seen the fire.

Happening to be in Germany, in 1846, I was de¬
sirous of getting some insight into the manners and
customs of the inhabitants of the ponds, and after
much observation, arrived at the same conclusion con¬
cerning them as the master of one of Her Majesty’s
ships did respecting the subjects of the Imaum of Mus¬
cat. Being compelled to record categorically a reply
to the inquiry, 4 What are the manners and customs of
the inhabitants?’ he wrote, 4 Manners they have none,
and their customs are very beastly.’ This is much the
case with the subjects of King Frog.

My knowledge of their vicinity was based upon auri¬
cular confession. Night after night, the most dreadful
din of croaking bore testimony to the fact that they

14

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

were unburdening their consciences ; and I determined
to try if I could not unburden their bodies of their ba-
trachian souls altogether. However, before I detail my
proceedings, I have a word to say with reference to their
croaking.

Horace bears expressive testimony to the disgust he
felt at it, when, after a heavy supper to help him on his
way to Brundusium, he exclaimed

- ‘ Mali culices, raneeque palustres

Avertunt somnos.’*

So loud and continuous is their song, especially in the
breeding season, that I find it recorded — in the former
good old times of France, when nobles were nobles, and
lived in their magnificent chateaux scattered through¬
out the country — that the peasants were employed during
the whole night in beating the ponds within earshot
of the chateaux, with boughs of trees, to prevent the
slumbers of the lords and ladies being broken by their
paludine neighbours. The frogs, can produce this noise
under water as well as on land. Ovid alludes to
this fact when he says,

‘ Quamvis sint sub aqua, sub aqua maledicere tentent,

Vox quoque jam rauca est, iutlataque colla tumescunt.’ t

In some places from their making this peculiar noise,
they have been called ‘ Dutch nightingales.’ In Scot¬
land, too, they have a curious name, Paddock or Puddick ;
but there is poetical authority for it : —

* ‘ The fenny frogs, with croaking hoarse and deep,

And gnats loud buzzing drive away our sleep.’ — Francis.

t ‘ Although they are under the water, yet they try to curse
under the water.

Their voice too is hoarse, and their inflated throats swell.

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

15

* The water-snake whom fish and paddocks feed,

With staring scales lies poisoned.’ — Dryden.

Returning from the University of Giessen, I brought
with me about a dozen green tree-frogs, which I had
caught in the woods near the town. The Germans call
them Laub Frosch, or leaf-frog ; they are most difficult
things to find, on account, of their colour so much re¬
sembling the leaves on which they live. I have fre¬
quently heard one singing in a small bush, and, though
I have searched carefully, have not been able to find
him: the only way is to remain quite quiet till he again
begins his song. After much ambush-work, at length I
collected a dozen frogs and put them in a bottle. I started
at night on my homeward journey by the diligence,
and I put the bottle containing the frogs into the pocket
inside the diligence. My fellow passengers were sleepy
old smoke-dried Germans : very little conversation took
place, and after the first mile, every one settled himself to
sleep, and soon all were snoring. I suddenly awoke with
a start, and found all the sleepers had been roused at the
same moment. On their sleepy faces were depicted fear
and anger. What had woke us all up so suddenly ? The
morning was just breaking, and my frogs, though in the
dark pocket of the coach, had found it out ; and, with
one accord, all twelve of them had begun their morning
song. As if at a given signal, they one and all of them
began to croak as loud as ever they could. The noise
their united concert made, seemed, in the closed com¬
partment of the coach, quite deafening : well might the
Germans look angry ; they wanted to throw the frogs,
bottle and all, out of the window', but I gave the bottle
a good shaking, and made the frogs keep quiet. The
Germans all went to sleep again, but I was obliged to

16

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

remain awake, to shake the frogs when they began to
croak. It was lucky that I did so, for they tried to begin
their concert again two or three times. These frogs
came safely to Oxford ; and the day after their arrival,
a stupid housemaid took off the top of the bottle to see
what was inside : one of the frogs croaked at that instant,
and so frightened her, that she dared not put the cover
on again. They all got loose in the garden, where I
believe the ducks ate them, for I never heard or saw
them again. These frogs cost six shillings each in
Covent Garden Market : they are not difficult to keep
alive, as they will eat black beetles, and these are to be
procured at all seasons of the year.

In the green tree and edible frogs there are fissures at
the corners of the mouth, foradmitting the external protru¬
sion of the bladder-like cheek-pouches which are inflated
from the windpipe ; and these are the instruments with
which they produce their noise. These cheek-pouches
they invariably protrude in their struggles to escape
when held by the hind legs. Under these circumstances
they are also capable of uttering a peculiar shrill cry
of distress, differing completely from their ordinary
croak.

The female frogs have not these voice sacs — in the
males alone we find them. Their use may possibly be to
enable one sex to be aware of the presence of the other.

In the bull-frog we find a very peculiar piece of
mechanism, by means of which the animal is enabled to
produce the well-known bellowing sound described by
travellers ; hence his name — bull-frog. Certain portions
of the larynx (the arytenoid cartilages) are convex
externally, and concave internally, so that when the
entrance to the larynx is closed, they form a dome over

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

17

the windpipe, which Cuvier has compared to a kettle¬
drum.

In the centre of a dark pine forest near Giessen in
Germany I found a shallow black-looking1 pond which
was full of these noisy frogs. Anxious to catch some
specimens, and obtaining a landing-net, I cautiously
approached this pond, and then, without allowing my
shadow to fall on the water, or making the slightest noise,
I peeped through the dense brushwood at the side ;
yet the moment I showed myself, every individual
who happened to be above water, jumped off his
perch, and was out of sight in an instant. I tried every
means to catch them, but in vain. At last I borrowed
from some boys a long tube of wood with a small
hole smoothly and equally bored through the centre,
which they used to shoot small birds about the hedges.
Armed with some arrows made of sharp needles tipped
with cotton wool, I ensconced myself in a bush, and
waited quietly for my prey. In a few moments, the
frogs, one by one, began to poke their noses out of the
water. I selected the finest, and by dint of a good shot,
I succeeded in fixing an arrow in his head. In the
course of the afternoon I bagged several of the
patriarchs of the pond, some of them as large as the
largest English toad. Upon being struck with the
arrow, they nearly all protruded their sacculi from each
side of the mouth, in the manner above narrated.

These frogs are not often used for the table in Ger¬
many, but in France they are considered a luxury, as
any bon vivant ordering a dish of them at the 4 Trois
Freres’ at Paris may, by the long price, speedily ascer¬
tain. Not wishing to try such an expensive experiment
in gastronomy, I went to the large market in the Fan-

c

18

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

bourg St. Germain, and inquired for frogs. I was re¬
ferred to a stately -looking dame at a fish-stall, who pro¬
duced a box nearly full of them, huddling and crawling
about, and occasionally croaking as though aware of the
fate to which they were destined. The price fixed was
two a-penny, and having ordered a dish to be prepared,
the Dame de la Halle dived her hand in among them,
and having secured her victim by the hind legs, she
severed him in twain with a sharp knife, the legs,
minus skin, still struggling, were placed on a dish ; and
the head with the fore-legs affixed, retained life and
motion, and performed such motions that the operation
became painful to look at. These legs were afterwards
cooked at the restaurateur’s, being served up fried in
bread crumbs, as larks are in England : and most excel¬
lent eating they were, tasting more like the delicate
flesh of the rabbit, than anything else I can think of.

I afterwards tried a dish of the common English frog,
but his flesh is not so white nor so tender as that of his
French brother.

Should any person wish to have a dish of real French
frogs, he can buy at Fortnum and Mason’s, for half-a-
guinea, a tin-caseful. They are beautifully preserved,
and are ready for cooking. I have eaten them at the
house of a lady, who kindly invited me to luncheon when
she tried the experiment.

The old fishwife, of whom I bought the frogs, in¬
formed me that she had a man regularly in her employ
to catch them. He went out every evening at dusk, to
the ponds in the neighbourhood of Paris, with a lantern
and a long stick, to the end of which was attached a
piece of red cloth. The frogs were attracted by the
light to the place where the fisherman stood. He then

HUNT IX A HORSE -POXD.

19

lightly dropped his cloth on the surface of the water;
the frogs imagining that some dainty morsel was placed
before them, eagerly snapped at if, and their teeth be¬
coming entangled, they became an easy prey, destined
for to-morrow’s market, and the tender mercies of the
fish or rather frog woman.

I subsequently brought over several dozen of these
frogs alive to England : some of them are still. 1 believe,
living in the Ward’s botanical cases of those to whom I
presented them ; the rest were turned out in a pond,
where I fear they have been devoured by the gourmand
English ducks, its rightful occupants.

The edible frog (rana esculenta) is brought from the
country, in quantities of from thirty to forty thousand
at a time to Vienna, and sold to great dealers, who have
conservatories for them : these conservatories are large
holes, four or five feet deep, dug in the ground, the mouth
covered with a board, and in severe weather with straw.
In these conservatories, even during a hard frost, the
frogs never become quite torpid ; they get together in
heaps one upon another instinctively, and thereby pre
vent the evaporation of their humidity, for no water is
ever put to them.

In Vienna, in 1793, there were only three dealers
who supplied the market with frogs ready skinned and
prepared for the cook.

Frogs feed principally upon beetles, which they find
among the tufts of grass by the sides of the ponds.
They do not, I think, grope about among the grass for
their prey, but rather wait till the beetles run near them,
and then they easily catch them by means of their pro
jectile tongue. I have examined the stomachs of many
frogs just caught, arid have found both slugs, beetles.

20

HUNT IN A HORSE- PONT).

and caterpillars. One year, when the wire-worm was
proving very destructive to the turnips, I examined some
frogs from a field swarming with it ; the frogs were
quite gorged with the worm, and must have done
much good to the farmer. I mentioned the fact to him,
and he issued an edict for the preservation of the frogs.
In the cages where I have kept frogs, I have frequently
found masses of the wing-cases and legs of the beetles
and flies they have eaten. These wing-cases, being com¬
posed of a horny material called Chitine, are not digested.
The same thing happens with bats. When going over
Ely Cathedral, I observed, on an old beam, up in the
tower, a shining glittering mass of something; it turned
out to be a mass of the wing-cases of insects, mixed with
the wings themselves. This beam was just underneath a
hole which was full of bats, and what I found was the
dung of the bats : so full was it of these wings and wing-
cases, and also of the eyes of the insects, that when the
sun shone on it, it appeared set with shining and iridescent
points. Dr. Daubeny, some years ago, exhibited to the
Ashmolean Society at Oxford, a similar mass of dung of
bats, from a crevice in the tower of Holton church.

When Sir E. Home, Mr. Quekett informed me, visited
the cave of Vavou, in the neighbourhood of New Cale¬
donia, he found in a cave a quantity of very curious-
looking material, which was ascertained to be bats’ dung,
presenting the same appearance as the specimen from
Ely Cathedral. Its real nature was not ascertained for
some time. I have sometimes found the wings of flies
and scales of beetles in the dung of the common English
swallow.

I have in my possession, a mass of the bones of frogs,
mice, and again beetles’ wings: which was found in a

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

21

moat of an old castle (the locality I forget). There was a
considerable deposition of this peculiar mixture of bones,
amounting to many inches in thickness. It was a puzzle
for some time, how frogs, mice, and beetle bones came
there all mixed together, but the two previous instances
will give an explanation. Above the moat must have
been an owl’s nest and these birds always spit up the
bones of what they eat. Owls live on mice, frogs, and
beetles, and hence the deposition of their bones.

Virgil, a good observer of nature, when describing
the approach of rain as predicted by animals, mentions
the flight of cranes and swallows, the cow looking up
to the sky, the pigs, &c., instances the frogs, especially,
as being good barometers —

‘ Et veterem in limo ranee cecinere querelam.’ *

Georg, i. 378.

The green tree-frogs are used to this day in Germany
as barometers ; they are placed in tall bottles, with little
wooden ladders. The steps of the ladder mark as it were
the degrees ; the frogs always go up towards the top in
fine weather, and lower down at the approach of bad
weather. I have often seen the Germans consult their
frogs when starting on a pic-nic expedition. Leeches,
too, make good barometers. I have two leeches in a
long bottle, which generally will indicate what sort of
weather is coming in the next twenty-four hours.

But let us return to our horse-pond : we have been
sitting there some time, looking at, and thinking about,
the frog family. The sun is very hot, and no horse has
come to drink. Like a dandy from his club, decked in
his best, the great water-newt, Sir Triton Cristatus (the

* And the frogs have sung their old song in the xnud.

22

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

king1 of the pond in the absence of the ducks, who are
his arch-devourers), rolls lazily forth from his hiding-
place. Look at his beautiful coat, and his orange-coloured
waistcoat — down the whole length of his back disports a
magnificent crest,* for just now he is in prime condition.
He is indeed a handsome beast, and by the way he parades
himself up and down, in front of his favourite batch of
weeds, he evidently knows it.

* O formose “ Triton” nimium ne crede colori.’ f

We want you : how are we to get you ? The question
is often asked, ‘ What did your godfathers V &c. My
godfather, peace to his memory, gave me a silver cup,
and a bit of advice. Sir Francis Chantrey was a fisher¬
man, and a practical man. 4 Never,’ said he, ‘go
without a knife, a bit of string, and a sixpence.’ We
have followed his advice, and have all those three
articles in our pocket. When we see the triton, our
obedience to sponsorial authority is rewarded. We cut
a stick with our knife, we tie a bit of string to the end
of it; now for a hook — ah, here is a pin all ready, in
the corner of our coat ; this is soon crooked, and a worm
affixed thereto ; Triton sees it, be snaps eagerly, we have
him, and for the first time in his life he is tied up in the
corner of a pocket handkerchief. But where is Lady
Triton? Not far off ; she is recognized by her crestless
and russet-coloured body, but she refuses the worm.
She shall be caught, nevertheless, by means of our
sixpence. This is quickly changed into fine brass wire

* I find that in captivity this crest becomes absorbed in a few
days ; the colours on the belly also lose their brilliancy.

f 0, beautiful Triton, do not trust too much to your appear¬
ance.

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

23

at a neighbouring shop, the proprietor of which seems
to sell everything, from a nail to a flitch of bacon, or a
pair of old woman’s pattens. In true hangman style, a
noose of wire is made, and fastened to the stick — the
captive couple meet again in the pocket-handkerchief
This lizard-fishing must be profitable sport to somebody,
for on asking the price of some medium-sized specimens
at Covent Garden, in a shop up the stairs, I found they
were worth threepence each. Tadpoles also were
saleable articles, and cost twopence a dozen, and the
water-beetles, that have .oars like a waterman (dytiscus),
cost from twopence to sixpence each. Of 4 weed,’ they
could 4 make any quantity, a pennyworth, or sixpenny-
worth,’ — so something saleable is to be got even out of a
horse-pond.

The newts are stupid things, and do not profit by
experience. In a pond, in a brick-yard not far from
Hanwell, I caught many beautiful specimens : the worm
was fixed on to a good-sized fish-hook in this instance, and
it was impossible for the lizard to get the hook into its
mouth. I had a good day’s sport, although I only
hooked one ; the others I caught by allowing them to
bite at the worm ; they went at it fiercely like bull-dogs,
and held on tight like these animals. I gave my
victim plenty of time, and when he had got a firm
hold, quickly but cautiously pulled him out of the
water. If the line became at all loose the triton escaped.
I found that they were caught by their teeth sticking
into the worm. One triton actually took the bait seven
times, and was pulled out of the water thrice before I
got him. This shows how very inactive their lacertine
brains must be, and is another proof, were it wanted,
that the intelligence of an animal depends upon the

24

HUNT IN A HOKSE-POND.

development of its cerebral organ. I observed that these
lizards, when taken hold of, invariably uttered a small
shrill cry, something between a squeak and a croak :
this cry I have heard frequently uttered by lizards in
my vivarium ; they generally utter it about sun-down.
Frequently also they would turn sharp round and bite, or
rather pinch the finger, their small teeth not being strong
enough to break the skin. The females are either not
so bold or so cunning (probably the former) as the males ;
they are much more difficult to catch, and much more
wary in their movements. I saw one female have a
fight with a gudgeon, who invariably returned to the
same clump of weeds, as if looking for something ;
probably the female laid her eggs in this clump of weeds,
and the fish wanted to eat them. The fish seemed afraid
of the newt, and always made off when she came near ;
she charged him vigorously two or three times, and
seemed to bite him.

The scene changes : the male and female newt have
now resided a week in a private crystal palace of a glo¬
bular shape. What we observed about them, imprimis,
was that they lived like Mr. and Mrs. Sprat, and always
quarrelled at dinner-time : a worm was given them, the
gentleman did not wait for the lady, but seized the one
end of the worm while she seized the other, each gulped
their portion down as fast as Italians their maccaroni ;
but there must be an end to all things, and worms are
included in the category. In due time the loving
couple meet, nose to nose, each with having swallowed
exactly half a worm. Husband looks daggers at wife,
as much as to say, What business have you here ? The
compliment is returned, and they begin waltzing, twist¬
ing, twirling, and rolling over each other, round and

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

25

round their globe ; neither will drop the worm, neither
will cry 4 peccavi somebody must give way, and that
somebody is the poor worm, who 4 comes a two in the
middle/ and settles the conjugal difficulty.

One day I quietly let a worm fall exactly between
two large itewts that were resting at the bottom of my
vivarium ; they both turned at it at the same momentt
and both made a bite. The worm gave a wriggle just
at that moment, and, both newts missing him, caught
hold of each other by the fore legs — newt A having
the right leg of newt B in his mouth, and newt B the
leg of newt A in the same position ; they soon found
out their mistake, and began writhing and tumbling
about over and over, round and round the vivarium, as
tightly fixed to each other as a couple of bull-dogs,
knocking off the shells from the sides, and frightening
the poor water-beetle out of his wits, and causing him to
ply his oars vigorously. Both of the combatants at last
seemed tired, and opening their mouths, set free the
captured legs ; they then retired to opposite ends of
the tank, thoroughly exhausted. Could these two crea¬
tures when fighting have been seen under a powerful
magnifier, they would have realised the strange pictures
we see in Mr. Hawkins’s book on 4 The Sea Dragons.’

Secondly. I have observed that the lizards obey the
command, ‘Increase and multiply.’ The young make
their debut in the form of an egg : the female will deposit
them when in captivity. These eggs are not agglutinated
together in a gelatinous lump as are the frogs’ eggs,
but are carefully deposited by the mother, one by one,
each in a distinct spot from the other. Resting on a
leaf or bit of weed, she folds it, by means of her two
hinder feet, into the shape of a funnel, and therein

26

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

deposits a single egg, gluing, at the same time, the
folded parts together, thus concealing and protecting
the enclosed embryo. In due time the young lizard-
tadpole comes forth from his egg, and much resembles,
during the few first stages of development, his first-
cousin, the frog-tadpole : both are furifished with
tufted gills or branchiae outside their body, which
act the part of lungs ; these disappear in time, and
are replaced by true lungs inside their body. The eggs
are deposited at the latter end of April, and during the
months of May and June ; but I know not how soon
the tadpole assumes the form of a perfect adult lizard.

Thirdly. I have observed that the lizards frequently
change their skins, as do snakes ; and this much in the
same manner. A few days before the skin is coming
off, the lizard looks covered with a sort of slime, and
appears stupid and sluggish. When he feels his coat is
loose enough, he gets between two conveniently-placed
portions of stick or weed, and, leaving the dead skin or
slough, as it is sometimes called, behind him, comes
forth more brilliant and lively than ever. These
cast-off skins are sometimes most perfect, particularly
when the lizard has not been disturbed during the ope¬
ration : the only way to examine it is to take it most
carefully out from the vessel in which it is found, on
the top of a camel’s-hair brush* (anything ruder, as
a bit of stick, will tear it to bits), and place it in a wine¬
glass of clear water, then, with the lightest touch pos¬
sible, brush the parts asunder, and, if you are lucky and
have a light hand, you may get the whole skin expanded

* I once told a soldier servant to go and borrow me a camel’s-
hair brush ; he came back and told me that — had not got a
camel’s * hair-brush.’

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

27

quite perfect, looking- like the ghost of its former owner.
There is not a portion of the body that has not parted
with its covering ; the very toes and skin of the feet
are seen hanging like an empty glove ; and even the
beautiful and yet hard and transparent covering of the
eye remains faithfully fixed in its old companion, the skin.
The lizards, why or wherefore 1 know not, are very
fond of eating these cast-off skins. I have frequently
seen them at work at it.

Crabs and lobsters, too, change their skins periodically,
but how often is not certain. Mr. Quekett lately
showed me a crab upon whose back an oyster had taken
up its position, and there it was hard and fast. Now by
examining the oyster it was evident that its age was
about three years; it became, therefore, a self-evident
conclusion that the crab had not cast his coat for three
years, as an oyster, who has once taken up his posi¬
tion and fixed himself when quite young, can never
make a change. Oysters, nevertheless, that have not
fixed themselves, but remain loose at the bottom of the
sea, have the power of locomotion ; they open their shells
to their fullest extent, and then suddenly contracting
them, the expulsion of the water forwards gives a motion
backwards. A fisherman at Guernsey told me that he
had frequently seen oysters moving in this way. Passing
through Billingsgate-market I saw, in a glass-case in a
fishmonger’s shop, a lobster, extended full length, of a
green colour. I immediately inquired about it. It had
been in the case some time, the man told me, and the
colour had faded ; but when it was alive, the green was
of a much more brilliant hue. It came from the coast
of Cornwall, and the fishmonger’s theory was that
when it had cast off its old coat and retired into a hole

28

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

in the rocks for its new coat to harden, this new coat
became impregnated with copper, the chosen retreat
being a hole in a rock containing copper. I do
not quite agree with his theor}q as I have seen the
common fresh-water crayfish of a green colour, and
they could not have got at any copper. The theory is,
however, ingenious ; there is no reason why a lobster
should not have been green instead of dark blue, its
natural colour when unboiled. The cause of a lobster
turning bright red when boiled, is a mystery I never yet
heard explained. Is it mechanical or is it chemical ?

That lobsters have affection for their young is proved
from the following facts communicated to my father by
Mr. Peach, when writing to him on the subject of
fishes’ nests (see page 240). He states, 4 This love of
offspring is not confined only to the scaly tribe. I
have been told by the fishermen of Goran Haven (Corn¬
wall) that they repeatedly see the lobster surrounded
by its young even until they are six inches in length :
this I have had, not from a solitary observer, but
from many, at different times, and quite unknown to
each other. So large was one taken by a fisherman’s
boy, that it was put into the 44 store-pot,” to be sold to
the crab-merchant when he came round, but the wicker¬
work allowed it to escape. The old lobster has been
seen lying with its head peeping from under a rock,
with its large claws extended, and the young ones
playing between them. When danger was near, the old
one rattled its claws; the young ones sheltered them¬
selves under the rock, and the old one followed.’

Every person who has eaten a lobster salad, must
know what the so-called berries are like ; they are the
eggs of the lobster. The kangaroo, as is well known,

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

29

has a pouch in its abdomen, where it carries its newly-
born young ; and for this reason they are called mar¬
supial (from fjLcipaviTOQ, a pouch) : among creatures that
live in the water, lobsters and crabs seem to be the
representatives of marsupial tribes on land. If the tail
of a lobster be stretched out straight, there will be seen
on its lower surface a number of Hat finger-like projec¬
tions. In the male creature these are comparatively
small and short ; in the female, they are long and broad :
and if it be the right time of year, clusters of eggs will
be found adhering to these appendages, so that by sim¬
ply examining the under surface of the tail, the fish¬
monger knows a male from a female lobster. This same
arrangement prevails in the common fresh-water craw¬
fish, and from a specimen in the College of Surgeons,
it seems probable that even after the eggs are hatched,
the young take shelter under the motherly tail ; for
i\o. 3783 is a crawfish, where several little mites of
crawfish just come out of the egg, and not much big¬
ger than the egg, are seen adhering firmly to the finger¬
like processes. When the mother closes her tail, her
offspring will be snugly concealed out of harm’s way
beneath it. So that even in creatures so low in the
scale of creation as lobsters and crawfish, we see that
parental affection has been planted by the great Creator
of their species, that the race may not become extinct.

Mr. Townsend, fishmonger, in Hungerford Market,
tells me that, not unfrequently, lobsters are brought to
Billingsgate with their two shells on, the old one in
process of peeling off from the new one underneath.
He promised to procure me the first specimen he saw,
and a few days ago he sent to the College of Surgeons,
two lobsters in the process of moulting. The shell of

30

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

the largest has split exactly down the centre of the
head portion, so that a slight pull would tear the two
parts completely away. The shell in fact comes off
in two equal halves, just as does a regimental cuirass
from the breast of a Life-guardsman, when loosened
from the shoulder-straps and waist-strap. The old shell
on the tail of the lobster is simply loose, and not split.

From what I observed in the Tilbury Fort shrimps, it
is possible that the tail part is never split, but that the
tail slips out of it, like a hand from a glove.

The second lobster is a very ragged-looking thing :
he is casting his shell in a very slovenly manner ; it is
coming off here and there in patches and bits, which is
I believe an exception to the rule. In the Vivarium
House, at the Zoological Gardens, is the shell of a
lobster cast in confinement — and it is pretty perfect.
I find in the Magazine of Natural Flistory for 1852,
a most interesting account of this process of shell¬
casting in a spider-crab, from the pen of Mr. Gosse.
I am not aware that there is any other account pub¬
lished of this most curious operation ; and as Mr. Gosse
watched it himself, I may be pardoned for introducing
his own words: it occurred at Ilfracombe.

‘ In the remotest corner of a tide pool, crouched a
spider-crab, face outwards, as is the custom with crabs
under such circumstances. On pulling it out, I was
astonished and delighted to observe how completely
the carapace and the limbs were covered with para¬
sitical zoophytes, and also while in the act of securing
the crab, I felt the body fall away from the carapace,
which hung for an instant by the frontal part, and
then gently detached itself, with a feeling to my fingers
as if it had been torn away. On looking at the crab,

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

31

I saw the new carapace perfectly formed and coloured,
with no marks of injury where the slough had parted
from it.’ Mr. Gosse took it home, and watched the
process of sloughing. ‘ The posterior legs were freed
first, the anterior pairs were about half out, and the
animal pulled first at one, then at another, until they
were quite drawn out as if from boots. The joints as
they came out were a great deal larger than the cases
from which they proceeded. It seemed to me that the
parts, which had an almost jelly-like softness when
extruded, were compressed as they were drawn through
the narrow orifices by the fluids being forced back,
these returning through their vessels, and distending
the liberated portion of the limb as it was freed. The
whole of the branchia were represented in the most
beautiful order in the exuviae. The coats of the
stomach, with its minute teeth, were also there in the
form of a membranous bag attached to the mouth by
the lining of the oesophagus. The coats of the antennae
(the feelers) remained attached to the carapace (the
upper shell), and the glassy cornea (the eye-cases)
of the latter were not reversed. I did not see any of
the struggling that is sometimes spoken of — it seemed a
very easy and simple matter.’

Though I have never witnessed the casting of the
shell in a crab, I have been fortunate enough to find
two Dragonflies in the act of coming out of their larva
state. Hunting about in the woods, at Weybridge, near
London, I came upon a pond, round which were hover¬
ing hundreds of the largest species of dragonflies, or
as the French call them, demoiselles ; they were forag¬
ing about for food, and everv now and then made a
pounce down upon some unfortunate insect smaller

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

32

than themselves. Looking about among the rushes
at the edge of the pond, I was much pleased to find in
nearly every tuft, two or three cast skins of this insect.
The first part of his existence the dragonfly passes in
the water, in a very different shape to what it after¬
wards assumes. When it is time that the transformation
should take place, the larva crawls out of the water,
and on to a stick, bit of rush, or in fact anything that
it can catch hold of. Now unless there existed some
contrivance for holding firm the skin which is to be
cast, it would hang about the body of the fly as it made
its exit. Accordingly we find that at the ends of each of
the legs of the larva are two curved and sharp-pointed
hooks. When its instinct prompts, it places itself in
such a position that the hooks shall have a firm hold,
and keep the skin destined to be left in an immoveable
position. The skin then splits at the back, and out comes
the perfect fly. The larva-cases which I found were
most abundant. There was an old post of rotten wood
close to the margin of the pond, and this giving a firm
hold, was literally covered with cast skins. On one
bunch of rushes, I found a dragonfly just half way out ;
the head and one of the wings were quite free, but its
tail was not as yet liberated. Most carefully did I
catch it, wishing to preserve it in the act of transform¬
ing ; I put it in my hat, but in a few minutes it came
quite out of its old skin. A few yards further on from
the place where I found the last specimen, I found
another dry skin on a tuft of rushes ; two of the rushes
had been taken hold of by the legs of the opposite
sides, and had been pressed together, so that their
elasticity, in attempting to resume their natural positions,
kept the legs quite tense, and the skin perfectly fixed.

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

33

A few inches below this cast skin, I found the dragon¬
fly which had just come out : it was resting upon a
rush, and its wings were spread out to their fullest
extent. The body of the creature was quite soft and
moist, and it was evidently exposing itself to the sun,
to allow its wings and body to harden before it took its
flight. I brought home both the cast skin and the
insect (which I killed by holding it over a chloroform
bottle), and they are now in a cabinet in the Museum
of the College of Surgeons. A few weeks afterwards
I again visited this pond ; hardly a dragonfly was to be
seen, and the cast larva-cases had nearly disappeared.

But to return to the lizards. A magnifying glass will
reveal, on the surface of the cast-off skin aforesaid, nume¬
rous pits and depressions, (remember the skin is inverted) :
these pits and depressions correspond to their relative
elevations and furrows on the body of the lizard. These
curious formations are little glands, set in the skin,
which secrete a peculiar fluid, and which serve, I think,
two purposes — first, to keep the body of the lizard moist
when he goes out of the water, which he not unfre-
quently does, I mean on his own account; secondly, to
afford his poor naked body some sort of protection.
Who ever saw a dog hold a lizard long in his mouth?
Certainly not. The captive exudes a peculiar acrid fluid
from these glands, and the dog drops him instanter.
This fluid is also partially poisonous to the human race.
I remember once killing a lizard ; and began to dissect
him immediately afterwards : upon dividing the skin
of the abdomen, there came forth a very peculiar and
remarkably offensive odour. Though I cannot say it
amounted to a stench, I confess I was obliged to give up
my dissection ; for I felt faint, and was obliged to he

34

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

down for a few minutes. An hour afterwards, there was
no trace of the odour ; and I finished my work. I there¬
fore advise naturalists never to dissect a newt till he has
been defunct some little time. They are very difficult to
kill by violence, but a little salt sprinkled on them soon
causes them to die. The lizard tribe will remain alive
a long time under circumstances that would be fatal to
most other creatures. Mr. Quekett showed me a lizard
called the ‘ horned frog of Texas/ in a little tin box in
which holes had been perforated : this was the most
hideous creature I ever saw, looking like a five-shilling
piece, with a tail on one side, and two horns on the
other. It had been sent in its box by post all the way
from Carolina, in America. It had started on May
1st, and arrived at the College of Surgeons, London,
May 17th, 1857. The box was not big enough for
it to turn in, and it must have remained in the same
position all this time : it looked very thin, and re¬
fused all food. Having frequently had occasion to feed
snakes and tortoises when they would not eat, I pro¬
posed to Mr. Quekett to feed it ; I accordingly, with
some difficulty, opened its mouth with a bit of ivory, and
having, as it were, gagged-it open, I put in three big flies,
and then took away the ivory, and the lizard swallowed
the flies with apparent relish. This lizard, unlike the
tritons, has not poison-secreting glands ; nor are the
Italian land-lizards armed with them, for the Italian cats
delight to catch and eat them. Crocodiles have not glands
in their skin which secrete acrid matter. Their skin is
exceedingly hard and strong ; so strong, indeed, as to be
useful even in the shape of armour. In the British
Museum there is a suit of armour — from ancient Egypt,
I believe— made to fit a man, and composed entirely of

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND. 35

crocodile skin. The stuffed crocodiles in museums are of
a dark, almost black colour ; but I read that when alive,
and in their native haunts, the skin is of a greenish hue.
With reference to killing lizards by means of salt, I was
lately told a wonderful story by a raw Lancashire man.
It appears that once upon a time there lived a man
whose appetite was enormous : he was always eating and
yet could never get fat, he was the thinnest and most
miserable of creatures to look at. He always declared
that he had something alive in his stomach ; and a kind
friend learned in doctoring confirmed his opinion, and
prescribed a most ingenious plan to dislodge the enemy,
a big Triton, who had taken up his quarters in the
man’s stomach. He was ordered to eat nothing but
salt food and to drink no water ; and when he had
continued this treatment as long as he could bear it, he
was to go and lie down near a weir of the river, where
the water was running over, ‘ with his mouth open.’
The man did as he was told, and open-mouthed and
expectant placed himself by the side of the weir. The
lizard inside, tormented by the salt food, and parched
for want of water, heard the sound of the running
stream, and came scampering up the man’s throat, and
jumping out of his mouth ran down to the water to
drink. The sudden appearance of the brute so terri¬
fied the weakened patient that he fainted away, still
with his mouth open. In the meantime the lizard had
drunk his full and was coming back to return down the
man’s throat into his stomach : he had nearly succeeded
in so doing when the patient awoke, and seizing his
enemy by the tail killed him on the spot. I consider
this story to be one of the finest strings of impossi¬
bilities ever recorded.

d 2

36

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

It is possible that the power of secreting1 or exuding
fluid possessed by lizards has given rise to the well-
known story of the Salamander. The ancients, and
some moderns, doubtless, believed, and do yet be¬
lieve, that the Salamander is incombustible, and has
the power (like Phillips’s suicidal fire annihilator)
of putting the fire out. Aristotle says, it is reported.
that the salamander, when it goes through the fire,
extinguishes it. Elian says that it will live in flames,
and attack fire like an enemy. From the above erro¬
neous notions of the poor beast’s power, the name of
‘Salamander’s wool’ has been given to asbestos; and,
why or wherefore I know not, but the alchemists
tortured Salamanders in their attempts to change quick¬
silver into gold. I have never tried the experiment,
nor do I intend to do so ; but I conceive it likely that a
lizard that has glands in his skin thrown into a fire, might
escape death, and possibly be able to crawl away, de¬
fending himself from the heat by means of the exudation
therefrom.

The alchemists have not been the only persecutors of
the poor Tritons ; modern philosophers have frequently
tried experiments upon them, and have found out that,
like lobsters and crabs, they can reproduce limbs or
parts of limbs which have been amputated, whether by
nature or accident.

A French philosopher, M. Bonnet, has amputated
their tails, and arms, and legs, which have been repro¬
duced with toes capable of motion ; and in one case the
same limb was reproduced four times ; an eye, also,
which he cut out, was reproduced in twelve months ;
and the results of many other similarly interesting, but
cruel, experiments are on record. Would that the poor

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

37

limbless fellows from the Crimea had had this triton¬
like power, instead of being- obliged to appeal to cork
and wood — but clumsy substitutes at the best — for the
useful members they have lost !

The tritons* of our glass-bowl are the representa¬
tives of the crocodiles and gavials, which formerly
inhabited this ‘right little, tight little island.’ Query,
was it an island in those days? Geologists, with good
reason, think not ; here, however, island or continent,
gigantic lizards lived, died, and were buried. Should
there be an unbeliever, let h-im go to the British
Museum, and look at the bones of these gigantic British
lizards in their coffins of hardened mud ; let him read
the white labels upon them, informing him where they
were found ; he will recognise many names of true
English towns ; some of them, perchance, nearer
London than he had imagined.

I find in a Taunton newspaper that my late father,
when addressing the Somerset Archaeological Society, in
1849, made reference to the extinct lizard-like animals
found fossil in England. He thus remarks: — ‘The
lias to be found in the neighbourhood of Taunton was
not only useful to the architect, but to the archaeologist.
It was the rock of which it might be said, as Virgil
said of some of the pests of the farm,

“ Quae plurima terrae
Monstra gerunt.” ’ f

The monsters of the lias stone were indeed most awful

* Several of the tritons above-mentioned have been trans¬
ferred from their glass-bowl to the fresh-water tanks of the
Aquarium, in the Regent’s Park Zoological Gardens. We
advise the reader to inspect and admire them for himself.

f The monsters which the earth (or strata) bears in abun¬
dance.

38

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

monsters. My father valued one collection of them
at the British Museum at 2000/. : they were so perfect
that they could be dissected, as an anatomist would a
dead dog- ; the skin, the scarf-skin, and even what
they had eaten for their dinners, were discoverable.
After referring to the Plesiosaurus, discovered by Mr.
Conybeare, Dr. Buckland stated 4 that on Tuesday last
at Birmingham there was laid upon the table a thigh¬
bone larger than that of any elephant ever seen ; it had
no marrow, and was as solid as a gate-post — had per¬
forations for the blood-vessels that intersected it to
enter ; and it had a fibrous structure which is not found
in the whale, and also particular perforations which
exist now only in the families of frogs, toads, and
salamanders. It was the thigh-bone of a colossal sala¬
mander, and was found not thirty-three miles from that
place.’

Again in a MS. note of one of my father’s cele¬
brated field lectures I find the following amusing de¬
scription of the Megalosaurus (fieyag great, and aavpog
lizard), whose bones had been discovered in the neigh¬
bourhood of Oxford. ‘ During this period of monsters
there floated in the neighbourhood of what is now the
lake of Blenheim — huge lizards, their jaws like croco¬
diles, their bodies as big as elephants, their legs like gate
posts and mile-stones, and their tails as long and as
large as the steeple of Kidlington or Long Hanbro’ (two
neighbouring villages). Take off the steeple of either
church, lay it in a horizontal position, and place legs to
it, and you will have some notion of the animal’s bulk.
These stories look like fables, but I ask not your in¬
dulgence to believe them. There the monsters are, and I
challenge your incredulity in the face of the specimens
before your eyes ; — disbelieve them if you can.’

HUNT IN’ A HORSE-POND.

39

Elsewhere my father remarks of this Megalosaurus :
i Although no skeleton has been found entire, so many
perfect bones and teeth have been discovered in the
same quarries, that we are nearly as well acquainted with
the form and dimensions of the limbs as if they had been
found together in a single block of stone.’ Not only
may the reader see and examine the actual bones of these
gigantic lizards in the British Museum and other places,
but he may, in these days of wonders, behold with his
own eyes the bones as it were again clothed with flesh
and muscle, and the monster Megalosaurus restored
to life, hideous yet wonderful in its vastness.

Baron Cuvier estimated the Megalosaurus to have been
about fifty feet in length, but Professor Owen, having
more bones to examine and compare than the Baron had,
has reduced its size to about thirty-five feet ; but in his
own words, 1 the superior proportional height and capa¬
city of trunk, as contrasted with the largest existing, the
length even of thirty-five feet gives a most formidable
character to this extinct ii predatory ” reptile.’ Mark
the word predatory. As there is never fire without
smoke, so there is generally some sort of foundation for
every story we hear. May not the idea of the dragons,
curious stories of which are chronicled in various parts
of En gland, owe their origin, in some way or other, to
the veritable existence of these large lizards in former
ages? To point out the train of ideas or circumstances
which led to these ancient dragon stories is of course im¬
possible, particularly as man was not coexistent with
Megalosaurus and Co. — still there is a certain shadow oi
connexion between them.

In the garden of the Crystal Palace at Sydenham,
stands the mighty giant Megalosaurus, formed and
fashioned by the hands of the modern Pygmalion, Mr.

40

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

Waterhouse Hawkins, and not far from this Oxfordshire
representative of giant lizards is the model of another
huge creature, the Iguanodon, (Iguana, ccovg , tooth,) so
called because the form of its teeth resembles those
of a lizard called the Iguana. The Megalosaurus rv as a
predatory reptile ; the Iguanodon was herbivorous, and
is found at Lewes in Sussex. Its bones were first dis¬
covered by the wife of Dr. Man tell, and the Doctor
made out its history most satisfactorily. Strange it is
that both my father and Dr. Mantell should be taken
from us before the restorations of these and other mon¬
sters were erected. Neither of them lived long enough
to see the results of their laborious investigations, amid
the broken fragments of dirty bones dug out of the
Oxfordshire and Sussex quarries, embodied, and the ani¬
mals again, as it were, embued with life. The magniti-
cent collection of Megalosaurus’ bones in my father’s
museum at Oxford, and also that left behind him by
Dr. Mantell, testify to their industry.

One of the most celebrated newts ever discovered was
found about a century ago, in a miocene deposit, at
CEningen, and was described by a philosopher of those
days as a human skeleton, which he called ‘ Homo
diluvii testis;’ and a great fuss it then made in the
learned world. Cuvier, however, came to the rescue,
and decided that it was not the skeleton of a man, but
of a gigantic salamander. This skeleton is still, I
believe, in the Museum of Haarlem. Since this date,
the Prince of Canino has examined it, and decided that
it is closely allied to his genus, Sieboldtia, a gigantic
water newt, three feet long, found by Siebolt (whence
its name), in a lake within a volcanic crater in Japan.

A male and female specimen of this enormous water
newt were brought alive from Japan, by their dis-

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

41

coverer, Sieboldt ; but the female was eaten, during the
voyage to Holland, by the male, which arrived safe and
sound at Leyden, often changing its skin and feeding
on small fishes, and snapping at the fingers of any man
that attempted to catch it.*

Chameleons do not secrete any acrid poison, but they
have, as it is well known, the power of changing their
colour. I had a couple at Oxford, and tried several
experiments, placing them on different-coloured cloths;
the variety of colours they can assume is not very great.
They unfortunately soon died, my servant having put
the box in which they were kept in a very cold place.
They are very passionate creatures. Mr. Madden writes,
4 1 trained two large chameleons to fight ; I could at any
time by knocking their tails against one another, insure
a combat, during which their change of colour was
most conspicuous. This change is only effected by
paroxysms of rage, when the dark-green gall of the
animal is transmitted into the blood, and is visible
enough under its pellucid skin. One of them, which I
kept for some months, deposited thirteen eggs in a
corner of the room, each about the size of a large
lavender-seed ; the animal never sat on them.’

The reason here given to account for the change of
colour is not very satisfactory. It has been said else¬
where to be caused by the injection of the blood vessels
of the skin, but Mr. Quekett tells me that he has injected
many chameleons, but has not found the blood vessels of

* I find, among Dr. Buckland’s papers, a portion of the
epiderm or scarf-skin of this very lizard. A MS. note states that
he saw the animal alive at Leyden, October 20, 1835, and that
it had lived there many years ; it was one foot long when it
arrived, but it grew to be three feet long. It had no nails on any
of its toes.

42

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

the skin by any means numerous or capable of dilatation.
The real cause of this phenomenon has yet, I believe, to
be discovered, though there are many theories about it.

There are many insects and beetles which come out
only at night. These are very interesting to the ento¬
mologist, who often finds it very difficult to, catch the
minuter kinds. Toads are therefore turned into beetle-
traps, and made to catcli these little night insects. A
brigade of skirmishing toads is turned loose into the
garden in the evening ; the toads, unconscious why so
much kindness is shown them, do their best to get a
good meal, but in the morning their master comes and
makes them eject all their night-work, which he does
without hurting them ; and in this way many curious
and rare specimens of minute nocturnal j ^sects have
been obtained. I have heard of a capital way to catch
night-moths, with little trouble ; it was practised by a
brave-hearted and gallant artillery officer, alas now no
more ! He lived in a charming country-house near St.
George’s hill at Weybridge : the woods thereabouts are
full of curious insects, and he used to catch the moths
by smearing the trunk of a tree with sugar and beer
boiled together. A lantern was then placed near the
trap ; the moths attracted by it came flying round, and
were caught by the sticky mixture. *

Toads are capital hands, too, at eating bees, when they
can get no other insects. A gentleman in Oxfordshire

* “ Mr. Buckland, we suspect, is not much in the habit of read¬
ing entomological publications [this is quite true~\ ; if he were, he
would frequently see opposite one and another name the myste¬
rious announcement, ‘ At Sugar.’ This means that the moth was
taken by the very device here described, — a device as familiar to
the insect-hunter as his collecting-box.”

Review Literary Gazette, Jan. 2, 1858.

HUNT IN A HOKSE-POND.

43

had a hive of bees in the cavity of a wall : a. common
toad which had taken up its residence in a hole close
by was observed to walk forth and place himself at
the mouth of the hive, and to catch the bees in their
coming from and returning to the hive with much dex¬
terity and activity. After witnessing the toad at work for
some time and feeling convinced that, if his depredations,
were suffered he would eventually destroy the whole
hive, the owner of the bees killed the robber, and on
inspecting his stomach, it was found full to repletion of
dead bees.

Toads are generally reported to be poisonous, and
this is perfectly true to a certain extent. Like the lizards,
they have glands in their skin, which secrete a white
highly-acid fluid, and just behind the head are seen two
eminences like split beans : if these be pressed, this acid
fluid will come out — only let the operator mind that it
does not get into his eyes, for it generally comes out
with a jet. There are also other glands dispersed
thoughout the skin. A dog will never take a toad in his
mouth, and the reason is that this glandular secretion
burns his tongue and lips. It is also poisonous to the
human subject. Mr. Blick, surgeon, of Islip, Oxford¬
shire, tells me that a man once made a wager, when half
drunk in a village public-house, that he would bite a
toad’s head off ; he did so, but in a few hours his lips,
tongue, and throat began to swell in a most alarming
way, and he was dangerously ill for some time. lie
had probably bitten right through the centre of the
glands behind the head, and had got a dose of the
poison. This toad’s poison mixes readily in water.
Under the microscope I find that it appears composed
of numerous round cells. A small animal that I

44

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

inoculated with it was not in any way affected. When
first this juice is squeezed out it is in external appear¬
ance very like the juice of the sow-thistle, which juice
must also have some acrid properties, for it is often
used to destroy warts by country people. Mr. G.
Rainey, in the Microscopic Journal for 1855, has
written a most interesting paper on the structure of
the skin of the toad. He states that some French ex¬
perimenters assert that the secretion from the toad’s
skin is fatal to animals ; but that in his hands they have
not proved so. That it should not be, what is commonly
called venomous, he adduces the following most logical
argument : — 4 There is one consideration which, as mere
circumstantial evidence, may be mentioned in opposition
to the views of the intensely-venomous power of the
secretion in the toad, and that is, its general diffusion
over a large part of the body, whilst in all those animals
which are decidedly provided with a specific venom and
not a mere irritant, the frightful apparatus which pro¬
duces it is well known (see page 194) to occupy but a
very confined locality.’ When a toad is taken into the
hand it feels somewhat hard, and its skin is not soft and
slippery to the touch, as is the skin of the frog. Mr.
Rainey tells us the reason of this is, that 1 underneath
the true skin is a layer of earthy material that will effer¬
vesce with acids.’ Tortoises have a covering, not of
skin but of bone, and Mr. Rainey very justly considers
this earthy deposit in the toad’s skin to be analogous to
the scaly covering of the ehelonean ( ^tXvc , a tortoise)
reptiles. As regards the use of the skin follicles in the
toad, Mr. Rainey gives the following solution : — 4 These
follicles have something to do with the absorption and
retention of fluid which in this class of reptiles is taken

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

45

into the system by the skin. Frogs have no cutaneous
organs to retain fluid, so that this reptile requires more
frequently than the toad a fresh application of moisture
to its surface. If a frog be exposed to the absorbing
power of dry mould, as the toad frequently is, the fluid
would pass through the skin into the dry earth. The
contents of the follicles of the toad mixing with the dust
and other extraneous substances, constantly in contact
with its skin, especially as the secretion is of a glutinous
material, and has a tendency to coagulate when wetted,
may possibly form a coating on its external surface, and
thus tend to diminish evaporation ; and in this way it
may assist in retaining the fluid absorbed into the body,
and in preventing its desiccation, and thus furnish
another means of adapting this animal to the physical
and physiological states and conditions under which it
is ordained to live and perform its part in the accom¬
plishment of that one universal and wise purpose, for
which this much-despised reptile, in conjunction with
all other living beings, was destined and created.’

But do not let my verdict of poisonous cause the
destruction of toads by my readers ; they are most useful
reptiles, and devour thousands of small insects, that would
otherwise eat up the vegetation. Gardeners well know
this when they turn them into the hot-houses. As proof,
I subjoin this testimony from a gardener : ‘ In the
autumn of last year a pit wherein I grew melons was so
much infested with ants, as to threaten the destruction
of the whole crop, which they did first by perforating
the skin, and afterwards eating their way into the fruit;
and after making several unsuccessful experiments to
destroy them, it occurred to me that I had seen the toad
feed on them. I accordingly put half-a-dozen toads into

4 6

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

the pit, and in the course of a few clays hardly a single
arnt was to be seen.’ There is just now a plague of
ants in many of the London houses, which defy ex¬
termination. I strongly recommend those who are
troubled with these plagues to try whether a toad or
two won’t help them.

In the year 1825 my father tried a series of experi¬
ments, relative to the old story of toads being found in
stones, blocks of stone, &c. As these experiments were
made with much care, and the detailed account is rarely
to be met with in print, I may be pardoned for here
introducing my father’s own words, for the benefit of
observers of the present day. He writes : —

‘In the month of November, 1825, I commenced the
following experiments with a view to explain the fre¬
quent discoveries of toads enclosed within blocks of stone
and wood, in cavities that are said to have no com¬
munication with the external air.

‘ In one large block of coarse oolitic limestone (the Ox¬
ford oolite from the quarries of Heddington), twelve
circular cells were prepared, each about one foot deep
and five inches in diameter, and having a groove or
shoulder at its upper margin fitted to receive a circular
plate of glass, and a circular slate to protect the glass :
the margin of this double cover was closed round and
rendered impenetrable to air and water by a luting of
soft clay. Twelve smaller cells, each six inches deep
and five inches in diameter, were made in another block
of compact siliceous sandstone, viz. the Pennant Grit
of the coal formation near Bristol ; these cells also
were covered with similar plates of glass and slate
cemented at the edge by clay. The object of the glass
covers was to allow the animals to be inspected, without

HUNT IN A HORSE- POND.

47

disturbing the clay so as to admit external air or insects
into the cell. The limestone is so porous that it is
easily permeable by water, and probably also by air ;
the sandstone is very compact.

1 On the 26th of November, 1825, one live toad was
placed in each of the above-mentioned twenty-four cells,
and the double cover of glass and slate placed over each
of them and cemented down by the luting of clay : the
weight of each toad in grains was ascertained and noted
by Dr. Daubeny and Mr. Dillwyn at the time of their
being placed in the cells; that of the smallest was 115
grains, and of the largest 1185 grains. The large and
small animals were distributed in equal proportion
between the limestone and the sandstone cells.

4 These blocks of stone were buried together in my
garden beneath three feet of earth, and remained un¬
opened until the 10th of December, 1826, on which day
they were examined. Every toad in the smaller cells
of the compact sandstone was dead, and the bodies of
most of them so much decayed, that they must have
been dead some months. The greater number of those
in the larger cells of porous limestone were alive.
No. 1, whose weight when immured was 924 grains, now
weighed only 698 grains. No. 5, whose weight when
immured was 1185 grains, now weighed 1265 grains.
The glass cover over this cell was slightly cracked, so
that minute insects might have entered : none however
were discovered in this cell ; but in another cell whose
glass was broken, and the animal within it dead, there
was a large assemblage of minute insects, and a similar
assemblage also on the outside of the glass of a third
cell. In the cell No. 9, a toad, which when put in
weighed 988 grains, had increased to 1116 grains, and

48

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

the glass cover over it was entire ; but as the luting ot
the cell within which this toad had increased in weight
was not particularly examined, it is probable there was
some aperture in it by which small insects found admis¬
sion. No. 11 had decreased from 936 grains to 652
grains.

4 When they were first examined in December, 1826.
not only were all the small toads dead, but the larger
ones appeared much emaciated, with the two exceptions
above mentioned : we have already stated that these
probably owed their increased weight to the insects
which had found access to the cells and become their
food.

4 The death of every individual of every size in the
smaller cells of compact, sandstone, appears to have re¬
sulted from a deficiency in the supply of air, in conse¬
quence of the smallness of the cells, and the impermeable
nature of the stone ; the larger volume of air originallv
enclosed in the cells of the limestone, and the porous
nature of this stone itself (permeable as it is slowly by
water and probably also by air), seem to have favoured
the duration of life to the animals enclosed in them with¬
out food.

4 It should be noticed that there is a defect in these
experiments, arising from the treatment of the twenty-
four toads before they were enclosed in the blocks of
stone. They were shut up and buried on the 26th of
November, but the greater number of them had been
caught more than two months before that time, and had
been imprisoned all together in a cucumber-frame placed
on common garden earth, where the supply of food to
so many individuals was probably scanty, and their con¬
finement unnatural, so that they were in an unhealthy

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

4y

and somewhat meagre state at the time of their imprison¬
ment. We can therefore scarcely argue with certainty
from the death of all these individuals within two years,
as to the duration of life which might have been main¬
tained had they retired spontaneously, and fallen into
the torpor of their natural hybernization in good bodily
condition.

‘ The results of our experiments amount to this : all
the toads both large and small inclosed in sandstone, and
the small toads in the limestone also, were dead at the
end of thirteen months. Before the expiration of the
second year, all the large ones also were dead : these
were examined several times during the second year
through the glass covers of the cells, but without re¬
moving them to admit air ; they appeared always awake,
with their eyes open, and never in a state of torpor
their meagreness increasing at each interval in which
they were examined, until at length they were found
dead ; those two also which had gained an accession of
weight at the end of the first year, and were then care¬
fully closed up again, were emaciated and dead before
the expiration of the second year.

‘ At the same time that these toads were enclosed m
stone, four other toads of middling size were enclosed
in three holes, cut for this purpose on the north side of
the trunk of an apple-t-ree; two being placed in the
largest cell, and each of the others in a single cell. The
cells were nearly circular, about five inches deep, and
three inches in diameter ; they were carefully closed up
with a plug of wood so as to exclude access of insects,
and apparently were air-tight : when examined at the
end of a year, every one of the toads was dead, and their
bodies were decayed.

n

50

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

4 From the fatal result of the experiments made in tne
small cells cut in the apple-tree, and the block of com¬
pact sandstone, it seems to follow that toads cannot live
a year excluded totally from atmospheric air ; and from
the experiments in the larger cells within the block of
oolitic limestone, it seems also probable that they cannot
survive two years entirely excluded from food ; we may
therefore conclude that there is a want of sufficiently
minute and accurate observation in those so frequently
recorded cases, where toads are said to be found alive
within blocks of stone and wood, in cavities that had no
communication whatever with the external air. The
fact of my two toads having increased in weight at the
end of a year, notwithstanding the care that was taken
to enclose them perfectly by a luting of clay, shows how
very small an aperture will admit minute insects sufficient
to maintain life. In the cell No. 5, where the glass
was slightly cracked, the communication though small
was obvious, but in the cell No. 9, where the glass
cover remained entire, and where it appears certain,
from the increased weight of the enclosed animal, that
insects must have found admission, we have an example
of these minute animals finding their way into a cell, to
which great care had been taken to prevent any possi¬
bility of access.

‘ Admitting, then, that toads are occasionally found in
cavities of wood and stone, with which there is no com¬
munication sufficiently large to allow the ingress and
egress of the animal enclosed in them, we may, I think,
find a solution of such phenomena in the habits of these
reptiles, and of the insects which form their food. The
first effort of the young toad, as soon as it has left its
tadpole state and emerged from the water, is to seek

HUNT IN A HORSE -POND.

51

shelter in holes and crevices of rocks and trees. An in¬
dividual, which, when young, may have thus entered a
cavity by some very narrow aperture, would find abun¬
dance of food by catching insects, which like itself seek
shelter within such cavities, and may soon have increased
so much in bulk as to render it impossible to get out
again through the narrow aperture at which it entered.
A small hole of this kind is very likely to be overlooked
by common workmen, who are the only people whose
operations on stone and wood disclose cavities in the
interior of such substances. In the case of toads, snakes,
and lizards, that occasionally issue from stones that are
broken in a quarry, or in sinking wells, and sometimes
even from strata of coal at the bottom of a coal-mine,
the evidence is never perfect to show that the reptiles
were entirely enclosed in a solid rock ; no examination
is ever made until the reptile is first discovered by the
breaking of the mass in which it was contained, and
then it is too late to ascertain, without carefully re¬
placing every fragment (and in no case that I have
seen reported has this ever been done), whether or not
there was any hole or crevice by which the animal may
have entered the cavity from which it was extracted.
Without previous examination it is almost impossible to
prove that there was no such communication. In the
case of rocks near the surface of the earth, and in stone
quarries, reptiles find ready admission to holes and fis¬
sures. We have a notorious example of this kind in the
lizard found in' a chalk-pit, and brought alive to the late
Dr. Clark. In the case also of wells and coal-pits, a
reptile that had fallen down the well or shaft, and sur¬
vived its fall, would seek its natural retreat in the first
hole or crevice it could find, and the miner dislodging

52

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

it from this cavity, to which his previous attention had
not been called, might in ignorance conclude that the
animal was coeval with the stone from which he had
extracted it.

‘ It remains only to consider the case (of which I know
not any authenticated example) of toads that have been
said to be found in cavities within blocks of limestone,
to which, on careful examination, no access whatever
could be discovered, and where the animal was absolutely
and entirely closed up with stone. Should any such
case ever have existed, it is probable that the communi¬
cation between this cavity and the external surface had
been closed up by stalactitic incrustation, after the
animal had become too large to make its escape. A
similar explanation may be offered of the much more
probable case of a live toad being entirely surrounded
with solid wood. In each case, the animal would have
continued to increase in bulk so long as the smallest
aperture remained by which air and insects could find
admission ; it would probably become torpid as soon as
this aperture was entirely closed by the accumulation
of stalactite or the growth of wood. But it still remains
to be ascertained how long this state of torpor may con¬
tinue under total exclusion from food and from external
air : and although the experiments above recorded show
that life did not extend two years, in the case of any
one of the individuals which formed the subjects of them,
yet, for reasons which have been specified, they are not
decisive to show that a state of torpor, or suspended
animation, may not be endured for a much longer time
by toads that are healthy and well fed up to the moment
when they are finally cut off from food, and from all
direct access of atmospheric air.

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

53

The common experiment of burying- a toad in a flower¬
pot covered with a tile, is of no value unless the cover
be carefully luted to the pot, and the hole at the bottom
of the pot also closed, so as to exclude all possible access
of air, earthworms, and insects. I have heard of two or
three experiments of this kind, in which these precau¬
tions have not been taken, and in which at the end of a
year the toads have been found alive and well.

4 Besides the toads enclosed in stone and wood, four
others were placed each in a small basin of plaster of
Paris, four inches deep and five inches in diameter,
having a cover of the same material carefully luted
round with clay ; these were buried at the same time
and in the same place with the blocks of stone, and on
being examined at the same time with them in De¬
cember, 1826, two of the toads were dead, the other two
alive, but much emaciated. We can only collect, from
this experiment, that a thin plate of plaster of Paris is
permeable to air in a sufficient degree to maintain the
life of a toad for thirteen months.

4 In the 19th vol. No. 1, p. 167, of Silliman’s American
Journal of Science and Arts, David Thomas, Esq., has
published some observations on frogs and toads in stone
and solid earth, enumerating several authentic and well-
attested cases. These, however, amount to no more than
a repetition of the facts so often stated and admitted to
be true, viz. that torpid reptiles occur in cavities of
stone, and at the depth of many feet in soil and earth ;
but they state not anything to disprove the possibility
of a small aperture, by which these cavities may have
had communication with the external surface, and in¬
sects have been admitted.

4 The attention of the discoverer is always directed

54

HUNT IN A HOKSE-POND.

more to the toad than to the minutiae of the state of the
cavity in which it was contained.’

But frogs are found sometimes in a true fossil state :
some good specimens have been discovered in the so-
called 6 papier kohl ’ (a species of semi-fossil wood that
splits up into thin sheets like paper), near the town of
Bonn, on the Rhine. They were associated with re¬
mains of roach, dace, and a curious kind of carp. Pos¬
sibly in former days there might have been in the ante¬
diluvian forest (now turned into coal) just such another
pond as that I found in the pine- wood near Giessen,
where I killed my frogs with the blowing-tube. As in
former times there existed gigantic lizards, so also there
Mrere gigantic frogs, or creatures very frog-like in their
conformation. Specimens of these creatures have been
modelled by Mr. Waterhouse Hawkins, and may be
seen at Sydenham. This beast has been christened the
Labyrinthodon, because, when a thin slice is made of
its tooth, the structures are seen blending one with the
other in an in-and-out fashion like a labyrinth. I lately
saw in a sugar-plum shop a stick of what the boys call
sweetstuff, composed of various coloured sugars inter¬
mixed ; strange to say, they had assumed exactly the
pattern we find in the tooth of the Labyrinthodon. Long
before they found the bones of our friend they found his
footsteps ; like hounds who have to hunt along the foot¬
steps of the fox a long time before they catch their fox.
These footsteps were like the impression of a man’s
hand, so they called it the Chirotherium, or beast with a
hand. There are some fine specimens of these foot¬
steps in my father’s geological museum at Oxford; and
many years ago I well recollect making frogs walk
over soft plaster of Paris to show the similarity of

HUNT IN A HORSE-POND.

55

their foot tracts with those of their great-great, &c.
grandfather.

As a sample of the i toad-in-a-hole ’ stories which we
see every now and then in newspapers, I insert the
following newspaper scrap, which I find among some
MS. notes of my father’s, relative to toads : — ‘ A few
days ago, as two colliers were working coal in a pit in
the neighbourhood of Bathgate, Linlithgowshire, they
wrere astonished, on breaking a large piece of coal, to see
a living frog skip nimbly from it. The niche in which
it had lived was perfectly smooth, and of the exact shape
of the frog. The hind legs of the animal are at least
twice as long as those of an ordinary frog, the fore legs
almost gone. It is of a beautiful bronze colour. It
leaped briskly about the moment that it wras liberated
from its dark abode. How many generations it may
have been shut up from light and air it is impossible to
say ; certain it is that although diminutive in form, and
with great brilliancy of eye, it is a very antediluvian-
looking customer . It inspires us with a kind of fear
to he brought into contact with a living being that has ,
in all probability , breathed the same air as Noah , or
disported in the same limpid stream in which Adam
bathed his sturdy limbs.’

Examine this story by means of the key afforded by
my father’s experiments, and its absurdity becomes
apparent.

56

RATS.

EATS.

Aridum et ore ferens acinum, semesaque lardi
Frusta dedit, cupiens varia fastidia coend
Vincere tangentis male singula dente superbo :

Cum pater ipse domus palea porrectus in hornd
Esset ador loliumque, dapis meliora relinquens.*

Horace , Sat. n. vi. 85.

In the above lines Horace amusingly describes the
grave hospitality shown by the Mas rusticus towards
his old friend the Mas urbanus, the feast being held,
we are given to understand, in ‘ paupere cavo/f situated
on a rugged mountain-side. During the entertainment
the conversation turned upon the vanity of mundane
affairs, and the certainty of death to all, whether bipeds
or quadrupeds : the moral appearing with the dessert —
that it behoves rats, as well as men, to be jolly, under
whatever circumstances they may happen to be placed.
On taking leave, the city beau returned the compliment
of the invitation, and his country friend trotted off with
him to enjoy, as well as he might, the contrast to his
own humble apartments,

* He goes, and freely fetches
Whole ears of hoarded oats and vetches ;

Dry grapes and raisins cross her chaps ;

And dainty bacon, but in scraps :

If delicacies could invite
My squeamish lady’s appetite.

The matron of the house, reclined
On downy chaff, discreetly dined
On wheat and darnel from a manger.

And left the dainties for the stranger. — Francis.
f Miserable burrow.

RATS.

57

In locuplete domo — rubro ubi cocco
Tincta super lectos canderet vestis eburnos. *

Whether other such murine feasts have taken place
since, or whether the London mures are given to the
same hospitality towards their brethren as their prede¬
cessors of Italy exercised, I know not ; but I do know,
and we all know, that there are many representatives
of this noble and ancient family in London, whose habits
and modes of living (though we don’t often read
notices of their soirees and entertainments in the
columns of the 4 Morning Post’) are exceedingly
interesting, and point out to us, that if we only look we
may find something to admire and reflect upon in the
humblest works of the munificent Creator.

But to our subject : —

There are two kinds of rats known in Great Britain —
the black rat and the brown rat. The black rat, or, as
it is sometimes called, the old English rat, does not
seem to be an aboriginal occupier of the British soil.
The earliest mention of it is by Genner, in his 4 His-
toria Animalium,’ published at Zurich about the year
1587. It is probable that it was introduced into this
country from France, the Welsh name for it being to
this day, as I have it from a gentleman of Welsh
extraction, 4 Llygoden Frengig ’ — 4 the French
mouse ;* and I am, moreover, given to understand, on
good authority, that it still abounds in the barns anti
granaries scattered throughout Normandy. f We all

* When harass’d with a length of road,

They came beneath a gi'and abode ;

Where ivory couches, overspread
With Tyrian carpets, glowing, fed
The dazzled eye. — Francis.
f Quoted by the Quarterly Review.

58

RATS.

know the common brown rat when we see it : the black
rat is a different-looking- animal ; he is much slighter in
make, his upper jaw projects further over the lower jaw
than it does in the brown rat, his ears are much larger,
and his tail very much longer than in his first cousin,
and lastly his colour is a jet black, with numerous long
hairs projecting out from the lower fur-like coat.
He is a very timid creature, and rarely shows fight ; he
is, in fact, not very powerful, but his want of strength is
made up by his excessive activity. I have examined
several, and found their bodies a mass of muscle
without a particle of fat.

By the side of the rat now so common in England,
the aboriginal rat has no chance ; he might get away
from him, being more active, but in a pitched battle the
brown, through his weight and superior power, must be
victorious. Rats, as will be seen hereafter, are very
fond of fighting, and are addicted to cannibal habits.
In the rat tribe, as well as among ourselves, the maxim
that i the weakest goes to the wall ’ holds good, and
the consequence is that the black rat has become very
scarce indeed, and the brown rat reigns predominant
in his stead. Stuffed specimens, even, are very rare
in museums, and the example they have in the British
Museum is by no means a good one, I hope to be able
to present them with a better. There is a case on re¬
cord to prove that the Norway rat is the principal agent
in the extirpation of the black rat. Some years ago
a London rat-catcher shut up together in a cage the
result of his day’s work, consisting of several dozen
rats, of both species, and put them away carefully for
the night, their intended fate being to afford sport to
his employer’s dogs the next morning. What was his
astonishment, when he came to fetch them, to find none

RATS.

59

but brown rats remaining ! these cannibals having
cruelly devoured all their sable brethren.

The black rat is reported by phrenologists to have
the cerebral organs differently developed to those of the
brown rat (and this fact was insisted upon by Spurzheim
in support of his theories).* The black rat delights
not in low haunts, such as cellars, pigsties, nor does
he burrow and run into holes, etc., but lives chiefly in
the ceilings and wainscoats of houses, and under the
ridge-tiles, and behind the rafters of out-houses. Ad¬
vantage may be taken of this habit ; for the surest way
to catch him is to place snares of thin wire, fixed open,
on the beams or rafters which he is in the habit of
traversing. Into these he will thrust his head, and
struggling to escape, will throw himself off the beam,
and thereby become strangled in the wire by his own
weight.

The author of a curious book — ‘ The Vermin Catcher,
1768,’ — confirms this fact. He writes : 4 I was once
exercising my employment at a gentleman’s house, and
when the night came that I appointed to catch, I set
all my traps going as usual, and in the lower part of the
house in the cellars I caught the Norway rats, but in
the upper part of the house I took nothing but the
black rats ; I then put them together into the great
cage to keep them alive till the morning, that the gentle¬
man might see them, when the Norway rats killed the

* “ It is certain, and must be conceded, that animals -which live
on mountains, or which are fond of high regions, have one part
of their brain more developed than the species of the same genus
which live in flat and low countries. This difference is very
sensible in roes, hares, rats, &c. One species of rats lives in
canals, cellars and the lower parts of houses ; another in com-
lofts and garrets, and the difference in their cerebral organization
is very distinguishable — Spurzheim’s Phrenology , p. 142. 1825.

60

RATS.

black rats immediately and devoured them in my
presence.’

It is a general notion that there are many black rats
still remaining in the vast city of sewers underneath the
houses and streets of London, but the author of ‘Lon¬
don Labour and London Poor ’ tells us otherwise.*

‘ One man, who had worked twelve years in the sewers
before flushing was general, told me he had never seen
but two black (or old English) rats.’ His evidence,
however, goes to prove that they are not quite extinct.
He says : ‘ In my inquiries as to the sale of rats (as part
of the live animals dealt in by a class in the metropolis),
I ascertained, that in the older granaries, where there
were series of floors, there were black as well as brown
rats ; “ Great black fellows,” said one man, who managed
a Bermondsey granary, “ as would frighten a lady into
asterisks to see of a sudden.” ’

There are two exhibitions of happy families in
London ; one stands at Charing Cross and about the
streets, the other remains permanently at Waterloo
Bridge. They both claim to be the original ‘ happy
family,’ but I think the man at the bridge has the
greatest claims to originality. He is the successor to
the man who first started the idea, thirty-six years ago —
Austin by name; the present owner has exhibited eight
years, and always in the same place. Both of these men
told me that black rats were very scarce things indeed ;
one of them had to give half a crown for a single one.
He afterwards got another, but finding they would not
breed in captivity, he turned them out under the floor
of his room, to give them a better chance of breeding : the
result of the experiment he has promised to let me know.

* All the sewer-labourers I hare spoken to, confirm this.

RATS

61

I have been informed that a gentleman who was in
the habit of crossing London Bridge early in the
morning some years ago, frequently saw whole colonies
of black rats out on the mud banks by the river side at
low- water; lately, however, they have all disappeared,
killed, most probably, by the increasing numbers of the
Norway rats from the large granaries and store- houses
that have sprung up near the bridge.

An intelligent rat-catcher informs me that the present
head-quarters of the old English black rat is the Isle of
Dogs ; that they abound there in the numerous ditches,
and come out to feed upon what is left by the tide.
In his opinion these black rats are not aboriginal in
England, but that they came over originally from
Jersey in ships. They thrive, he tells me, in marshy
places, particularly where the water is brackish, and
there are many such places in Jersey. I have not yet
had an opportunity of verifying his assertion. My
friend Mr. Coulson, of Clifton, Bristol, most kindly sent
me up five beautiful young black rats from Bristol ;
they were in a large iron cage, and when excited
moved about the cage more like birds than rats. ’ I
never yet saw other creatures with four legs so active
as they : their tails are remarkably long, and they use
them as levers to spring by when about to jump. Open¬
ing the cage to examine them, one escaped, running
under my hand. It took myself, three other persons,
and two dogs three quarters of an hour hunting in my
room to catch him again — so active was the little brute.
We were obliged finally to kill him to get him at all :
one of my friends present very appropriately called
him 4 black lightning.’

The other species of rat, now so universally known

62

RATS.

and generally esteemed a pest by all, is commonly
supposed to have come from Norway, and is, therefore,
called (but wrongly) the Norway rat. This is a strange
mistake, for it would imply that this animal was
aboriginal in that country ; whereas, in fact, at the time
when the name was first applied to it, it was not even
known to exist there. How this mistake arose I know
not, except from the fact that there exists in Norway a
little animal, not unlike a rat, called a lemming, de¬
scribed in a treatise entirely devoted to it by the cele¬
brated Danish historian and antiquary, Wormius, about
the seventeenth century. This may be the origin of
the name ; but, however, it made its appearance in Paris
about the middle of the eighteenth century, and in Eng¬
land not many years earlier. It is now agreed by most
naturalists that it is a native of India and Persia ; that
it spread onwards into European Russia, and was
thence transferred by merchant-ships to England and
elsewhere.

This species of rat having nearly exterminated the
olack rat, has multiplied in the course of years to a fearful
extent, and has taken sole possession of every haunt and
lurking-place where he can be warm and dry, and at the
same time find food in abundance.

What has happened in England has happened else¬
where, viz. the Norway rat has destroyed the aboriginal
rat of the country. A gentleman whose family had
property in Jamaica, informs me that several rats were
imported to that island to keep down the plantation
rats. This was not a wise plan, for no sooner had the
Norway rats arrived in their new quarters than they
multiplied so exceedingly that they became a greater
pest than the original rat.

RATS.

63

Again, as regards New Zealand, we read in the
‘ Field ’ newspaper, in answer to a question as to whether
any good sporting can be had there, an answer from a
gentleman who signs himself Kaiapoi : 4 With the excep¬
tion of a small species of rat, now nearly extinct, having
been all but exterminated Dy the importation of ihe
common Norway rat, there is not a single indigenous
animal in the country ; the rats have become a serious
nuisance/

Again, another answer to the same question : ‘ In
reply, I may state that New Zealand is about the worst
country for a sportsman in the world. Nearly a cen¬
tury ago, Captain Cook left pigs and rats upon the island,
and these have become a serious nuisance in many
parts/ I lately saw an advertisement of a man who
was 4 willing to buy any number of live cats for ex¬
portation.’ Doubtless these cats are destined for New
Zealand ; we shall have the story of Whittington and
his cat over again. It is by no means a bad speculation.

But according to a Canterbury paper the tables are
now turned here in England against even the Norway
rat. We read: ‘Among the numerous articles for sale
in our market on Saturday last was a number of live
rats from Australia. When asked what inducement
there was to introduce vermin into one’s house, we
were told such was the antipathy of English rats to
those from Australia, that it required only the intro¬
duction of some two or three of the Australian breed to
extirpate any number of English rats. We were
further told that they realized a high price, in conse¬
quence, from those who had faith in their frightening
propensities/ I have heard rumours of the existence
of another species of British rat, that has become nearly

64

RATS.

extinct. Mr. Blick, of Islip, pnforms me, that some
years ago he well recollects seeing in Leicestershire
and Northamptonshire a small species of black water-rat,
shaped like a mole, with a long body and short legs and
a short thick head ; but this rat is now very rare. The
fishermen report that the common water-rat has killed
them. It is reported that they are still to be found in
Barton brook, near Woodstock in Oxfordshire; but I
have never yet seen one.

It is a curious, but nevertheless well-ascertained fact,
that wherever there is a good habitat for a rat, it is
quite certain that there a rat will be. The immediate
occupier may be slain, but in a few days the favourite
spot will be found out, and taken possession of by
another rat, who will in his turn meet the same fate as his
predecessor, and will be succeeded by another deluded
victim, who is doomed, as the doctors would say, ‘ to be
taken as before.’

The rat is a most strict observer of the law ‘ Be
fruitful and multiply for Madame la Ratte is generally
in an interesting condition thrice a-year, and on these
occasions she does not look forward to nursing one
helpless little individual, but thirteen or fifteen small
unfortunates. I have had practical demonstration of
the aptness of this family for propagating its species. In
cleaning out the cage containing a little happy family of
five rats, of variegated colours — all of which were per¬
fectly tame, and live in peace and harmony — I felt some¬
thing among the hay, warm and soft ; on taking it
carefully out, it proved to be a little tiny rat, hairless
and eyeless, but nevertheless endowed, like a biped baby,
with the full and audible use of its infant lungs. On
hearing its cries, the mother — a beautiful snow-white

RATS.

65

rat. upon whose head maternal cares were pressing at
the early age of eight weeks — rushed forward, and
seizing her screaming infant between her teeth, hastily
ran off with it. Upon further examination, ten other
young innocents were found carefully packed up in the
corner of a cigar-box, which had been placed in the
cage for the use of the colony in general, but which
had been kindly vacated by the other considerate rats in
favour of the lady who was literally in the straw. The
owner is happy to announce that the mother and her
little family are all doing well. Such, indeed, is the
amazing fecundity of this animal, that they would soon
overrun the whole country, and render all our attempts
to destroy them fruitless, had they no enemies to lessen
their numbers. But this baneful increase is happily
counteracted, not only by numerous foes among other
animals, but by their destroying and eating each other.
The same insatiable appetite that impels them to indis¬
criminate carnage, also incites the strongest to devour
the weakest, even of their own kind ; and a large male
rat is as much dreaded by its own species, as the most
formidable enemy.

I once had three rats brought to me in a cage ; in
removing one it got hurt. I fed them, and put them
into a stable. The next morning there were only two
rats in the cage, the injured rat having been set upon and
slain by his fellow-prisoners. They had not only slain
him, but had actually begun to eat him, choosing the
head to begin upon. Wishing to see the result, I left
him, and in the course of the day, although well sup¬
plied with bread and milk, these cannibals had nearly
devoured their friend. I have preserved the bones as
proof of the fact. I afterwards ascertained that it was

r

66

RATS.

one only of these rats that was murderously inclined,
for he killed and ate every rat put in to him. In the
course of about a month, this brute killed five rats
that were put into his cage. He always began at
the neck, just behind the ear. A gentleman at Clap-
ham, to whom I gave some rats, had bred a number in
a squirrel’s cage, which was hung up in a garden. One
morning, not long ago, he looked at the rat in it — a
white female with young. Instead of the white rat, he
found a great brown male of the common kind coiled up
in the nest. The white one was gone, and the young
ones all killed and partly devoured. This brown rat
must have climbed up a perpendicular smooth iron bar
to get at the cage. Out of the hole in the cage, where
the intruder got in, the white mother might have got
out if she liked, but she preferred staying at home and
looking after her young ones.

The Yankees, I am told, take advantage of the can¬
nibal propensities in the rats. A clever Yankee being
much troubled with rats, and being determined to get
rid of them, tried every possible plan, but without suc¬
cess. At last he got a lot of rats and shut them in
a cage ; they devoured one another till only a single
one was left. He then turned this one loose, who, ex¬
cited with the blood of his fellow-rats, and having
become a genuine cannibal, killed and ate all the wild
rats he could find on the premises. A good Y’ankee
story.

I was witness to the following circumstance: A
dog had been killing some rats for a match, and one
wounded rat was left alive in the rat-pit. Twenty
other rats were then placed in for another dog. These
l'resh comers found out the wounded one, and instantly,

RATS.

67

though there were many people looking' on, set upon
him and killed him then and there. One of the rats
seemed to take the part of the wounded one, but a
gigantic rat left the wounded one he was murdering
and attacked the would-be rescuer and killed him also.
This seems a wise provision, though, at first sight, a
cruel one. If a wounded rat got into a hole, he would
linger there perhaps many days in a dying state. His
fellow-rats, however, soon find him out and put him
out of his misery. At the same time it is a salutary
check upon their increase, for a colony of rats lias thus
in itself the elements of self-destruction. Were all to
live, there would not be sufficient food for their exist¬
ence ; some must die, and those are killed who are dis¬
abled from foraging for themselves. In this way, too,
one poisoned rat often kills more ; his neighbours eat
his body, and with it the poison. But it appears that
the rats have found out what poison is, for a gentle¬
man with whom I was conversing on the subject in¬
formed me, that he knew a case where poison having
been placed down for rats, a pair of old ones drove
their young away from it. and filled up the holes where
it was placed, so that they should not get at it.

Rats are remarkably subject to tumours in the skin.
Examining about half a sackful of dead rats one day, I
found that more than half had these tumours. I have
in my possession a dried body of a rat with a little round
hole in its back, where one of these places had burst.
This had probably caused the death of the animal, and
he had gone away to die in solitude, as is the habit with
most animals. Not long ago, I examined the body of
a man which was exhibited at Hungerford Market.
The hand-bill of the exhibition stated that it was a

f 2

68

RATS.

fossil man ; no fossil was it, but simply a body quite
dried up, just as was the rat’s. This body was found
buried in the guano, but in which island I cannot
recollect. His name was Christopher Toledo, for one
of the staves of an oil-barrel was found on his body,
with the name and the date, 1670, cut out rudely,
probably with a sailor’s knife. To the head a long
black pigtail was attached. Sailors - in former days
wore pigtails, and I see that in the castings affixed to
the Nelson column, Charing Cross, the sailor who is
carrying Lord Nelson has a pigtail. This poor man,
whose body I examined, had met with cruel treatment ;
he had probably been tortured and then murdered.
The right collar-bone had been broken; and that he had
lived some time after the accident, or more probably
the blow, was evident from the fact that his right arm was
much larger than the left — the result of swelling. Had
he died immediately, the arm could not have had time to
swell. I thought the teeth projected in a remarkable
way. I examined them more closely, and ascertained
that the upper lip had been cut off quite to the bone.
The owner of the skeleton was not aware of this till I
pointed it out to him. He fully agreed with my ob¬
servation. What a story could poor murdered Christo¬
pher Toledo tell us, could his body have the power of
articulation !

In Oxford-street there was, about four years ago,
another exhibition of ‘ a semi-fossilated man from
the guano island of Ichaboe.’ To see this I paid one
penny. It cost me a shilling to see Christopher Toledo,
This man was a Chinese ; his Tartar features, small
feet, and peculiar hair told us this. The proprietor
considered his mummy much more valuable than the

RATS.

69

specimens from Egypt ; for he writes in his exhibition
bill — ‘ The length of time it has been covered with guano
is undecided, but it cannot be rated at less than from
two to three thousand years ; how much more, it is
impossible to state, but the probability is that it far
exceeds in antiquity, as it does in interest, those gum
and bitumen preserved bodies imported to us from
Egypt.’

I have a notice of yet a third human fossil. It is a
handbill of an exhibition, preserved by my father.
‘ Now exhibiting, an antediluvian child, found in a
super critacy soil at Dielgen, near Brussels, Belgium.
There does not perhaps exist in the world a discovery
so rare and so wonderful in the matter of geological
science. Until now there never was found but the
bones of animals to have turned into a fossil state.
Cuvier, the most celebrated of his age, has denied the
existence of human fossil remains, and others pretend,
that previous to the deluge the human race had no ex¬
istence. The proprietors of this fossil being obliged to
return to Paris, &c. &c. Admission £1 each'

On the above bill I find the following in my father’s
MS. : ‘ I saw the above, with Mr. Pentland and Sir
Francis Chantrey, 12th June, 1840. It is nothing but
concretion of chert in the Brussels sand, something like
the head and trunk of a child without legs.

‘ W. Buckland.’

But enough of human fossils.

Mr. Gibbons, a most intelligent and civil rat-catcher,
residing in the Broadway, Westminster, informs me
that the rat will breed every seven weeks, and that the
female will begin to have young as early as fourteen
weeks old. He has one now in his possession of this

70

RATS.

age, who has eight young ones, and likely soon to have
another family. The rat in question is a cross between
the old British black rat and a white rat, which he
turned out in a place where he knew the black rat still
existed. In a few weeks he caught a young one, of a
piebald colour — viz. a beautiful jet black and a pure
white, plainly denoting its parentage. By cross-breeding
with the offspring of this rat, he has obtained some
remarkable and very curious piebald varieties, which
are perfectly tame, and bear handling. One of them is
now sitting on the writer’s table washing and cleaning
himself with his little white paws. Mr. Gibbons informs
me, that in a litter of rats the boars predominate in
number over the sows. In a litter of eight, there were
only two females, in a litter of eleven only three. He
supposes this very justly to be a provision of Nature to
keep down the breed.

Mr. Shaw, of rat-catching notoriety, informs us, in a
little book on the rat, that ‘ his little dog Tiny, under
six pounds weight, has destroyed two thousand five
hundred and twenty-five rats, which, had they been
permitted to live, would, at the end of three years, have
produced one thousand six hundred and thirty-three
millions one hundred and ninety thousand two hundred
living rats !’

During summer the rat resides chiefly in holes on
the banks of rivers, ponds, and ditches ; but on the
approach of winter they visit the farm-houses, and enter
the corn-ricks and barns, where they devour much of
the corn, and damage more than they consume. They
are very fond of pig-sties, running about among the
pigs, picking up the leavings of the oatmeal out of the
troughs, and even nestling down near to the warm body

EATS.

71

of the fat unwieldy porkers, whose obese sides make not
bad pillows for his impudence — the rat.

On one occasion, when a boy, I recollect secretly
borrowing an old-fashioned flint gun from the bird-
keeper of the farm to which I had been invited. I
ensconced myself behind the door of the pig-sty,
determined to make a victim of one of the many rats
that were accustomed to disport themselves among the
straw that formed the bed of the farmer’s pet bacon-pigs.
In a few minutes out came an old patriarchal-looking
rat, who, having taken a careful survey, quietly began
to feed. After a long aim, bang went the gun — I fell
backwards, knocked down by the recoil of the rusty old
piece of artillery. I did not remain prone long, for I
was soon roused by the most unearthly squeaks, and a
dreadful noise as of an infuriated animal madly rushing
round and round the sty. Ye gods ! what had I done ?
I had not surely, like the tailor in the old song of the
( Carrion Crow,’

‘ Shot and missed my mark,

And shot the old sow right bang through the heart.’

But I had nearly performed a similar sportsman-like
feat. There was poor piggy, the blood flowing in
streamlets from several small punctures in that part of
his body destined, at no very distant period, to become
hatn, in vain attempting, by dismal cries and by ener¬
getic waggings of his curly tail, to appease the pain oi
the charge of small shot which had so unceremoniously
awaked him from his porcine dreams of oatmeal and
boiled potatoes. But where was the rat ? he had dis¬
appeared, unhurt ; the buttocks of the unfortunate pig.

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RATS.

the rightful owner of the premises, had received the
charge of shot intended to destroy the daring intruder.

To appease piggy’s wrath, I gave him a bucket-full
of food from the hog-tub : and, while he was thus con¬
soling his inward self, wiped off the blood from the
wounded parts, and said nothing about it to anybody :
no doubt, before this time, some frugal housewife has
been puzzled and astonished at the unwonted appearance
of a charge of small shot in the centre of the break¬
fast ham, which she procured from Squire Morland, of
Sheepstead, Berks.

The frequenters of the Zoological Gardens in Regent’s
Park, may, if the room be quite quiet, and the sun
warm, observe numerous rats in the den of the rhi¬
noceros. I have frequently watched them playing about,
and running backwards and forwards over his thick
armour-like hide, as he lies basking in the pleasant
sunshine. He evidently thinks them quite beneath his
notice, for he makes no efforts to drive them away,
beyond occasionally flapping his great ear when they
tickle him in any tender part. They come to the rhi¬
noceros’ house for the same purpose that they go to the
pig-sty, viz., to get what they can from the leavings of
their superiors. The keeper informs me that he not
unfrequently finds dead rats crushed quite flat in the
straw under the place where the rhinoceros has been
sleeping. The poor rat has but a small chance of
escape when the huge carcase of the great beast comes
plump down upon him, and settles itself there for a good
long sleep. Rats, too, are also found killed in the
same manner in the straw bed of the elephant. These
rats probably come out of the straw thatch which covers
the building where the rhinoceros and elephant live ;

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73

they are common also in the deer-house, where they come
for the oats, of which they are particularly fond. If
any person wishes to keep rats alive a long time in a
cage, let him give them plenty of oats and plenty of
water, for the absence of water will kill them in a very
few hours. A fine full-grown rat was brought to me ;
it appeared in perfect health and vigour, and when I
went near it, it ran about the cage uttering its peculiar
cry of alarm, and fixing itself in an attitude of defence
up in one corner of the cage. I introduced a spoonful
of water to it, and in a moment it seemed to forget its
ferocity, for it came up hesitatingly at first, and tasted
the water ; gaining courage, it soon took hold of the
spoon with its fore-paws to steady it, and greedily drank
up all the water. I gave it two or three spoonfuls
more, and then some wet bread ; the next day it had
again some wet bread, but not any water. On looking
at it the next morning I found my poor rat in the agonies
of death. I took it out of its cage and poured some
brandy down its throat, at the same time putting its
hind feet in hot water, but in vain, it died in my hand.
I could find no internal cause for its death ; but on
consulting a rat-catcher he informed me that it died for
want of water without a doubt. I must therefore confess
that I unwittingly was the cause of its dying, and for
the future I shall know better how to act towards captive
rats. One great reason why they are so abundant at
the Zoological Gardens is that they have free access to
water from the banks of the Regent’s canal, as well as
plenty of food, which they purloin from the animals.
In the deserts of Africa there are numerous colonies
of rats and mice of different kinds ; now how do these
little beasts live during the droughts without water ? The

74

RATS.

ail-wise and ever kind Creator has provided for their
wants. An African traveller, Campbell, writes — 4 I was
surprised how so many mice could have lived without
water till I observed them rolling berries from succulent
plants into their holes. On examining one of the
largest of these berries I found it contained about three
teaspoonsful of water. This is a provision God has made
to supply the wants of these little animals.’ Man, too
(the poor Bushman), is supplied with water from a similar
source, for he finds growing in arid and dry places
natural water reservoirs in the shape of 4 melons, which
being roasted yield good water.’

As a curious instance of the way in which animals
always find out the place best adapted for their habita¬
tion, I may adduce the fact that at the Zoological
Gardens, although the rats swarm not ten yards away
from the parrot-house, yet they never come into this
building. Here mice take their place. How is this ?
The rats have probably found out that it is no use going
there, they would get nothing for their trouble, for they
could not get through the bars of the birds’ cages to
get at the seed ; the little mice, on the contrary, who, as
all well know, are great seed-eaters, with ease run in
and out between the wide bars of the parrots’ cages,
and help themselves both to seed and water. They have
found out that, although the great cockatoo has such an
enormous and formidable-looking bill, it won’t hurt
them, and that Mr. Cockatoo is not a carnivorous bird.
When, therefore, these gaudy denizens of the tropics have
finished their day’s screaming and 4 pretty pollying,’ out
pop the little mice, taking tithe of all the seed-boxes
they can get at. Having finished their meal they retire
behind the hot water pipes which run round the room,

RATS.

75

and with full stomachs lie lazily in their warm and
comfortable quarters alongside the pipes till they are
hungry again. No wonder, therefore, they obey the law
‘ increase and multiply.’

Rats, when hard pressed for food, are not par¬
ticular as to what they eat. In extremities they will
attack and devour human flesh. An instance, corrobo¬
rating this fact, came to my personal knowledge and
inspection about Christmas-time, 1851. The body of
an unfortunate pauper, whose frame was emaciated to
the last degree by famine and want, was brought to one
of the theatres of anatomy in London for dissection.
When the corpse was placed on the table, it was found
that the whole of the lips and parts of the ears were
wanting ; in the place of the eyeballs were empty
sockets ; the parts also covering the palmar surface of
the fingers were gone, only the bones and nails being
left. Besides this, marks of teeth were visible on various
other parts of the body. How came all this mutila¬
tion ? What had caused this fearful disfigurement ?
Upon inquiry, it was ascertained that this poor victim of
starvation had been taken in from the streets, friendless
and unknown, into a workhouse — there he had died,
and had been carried to the dead-house previous to
removal to the dissecting-room. The rats (for, living
in a workhouse, we may suppose that they, too, did not
get too much to eat) had found out the corpse, and in
the space of one night had committed all this havoc,
devouring the most tender parts of the body ; at least,
I suppose they had found the parts that were missing
were the most dainty morsels, for the marks of their
sharp teeth showed that they had had a taste of nearly
every other part of the body. After this event, means

76

RATS.

were taken to prevent the ingress of the rats into the
dead-house ; and a similar case has not since occurred.

A gentleman who has seen much of the world informs
me that when coming from India he was very much an¬
noyed by the cockroaches : they actually at night, when
he was asleep, came and devoured the little rims of
white skin at the roots of the finger-nails. I have also
heard that they will eat the hair of the sleeper, which,
I think, is very likely, particularly if there be any oil
on the hair. Sailors are inclined to be merciful to the
cockroaches, because they wage war with and devour the
bugs. Bearing these facts in mind, when looking at the
elephant in the Zoological Gardens, I observed that just
at the roots of all his nails were white marks, as if the
skin had been rasped away by a file : the elephant, we
observed, perpetually picked at these places with the
finger-like extremity of his trunk. It occurred to me
that it Avas not at all unlikely that the rats had been
gnawing at these parts when the monster was asleep ;
I am by no means certain of the fact, but think it not at
all unlikely, knowing the habits of rats. That rats
will gnaw the skin of dogs’ feet is evident from the
following extract from Dr. Kane’s most interesting work.

Last week I sent down Rhina, the most intelligent
dog of our whole pack, to bivouac in their citadel, for¬
ward. I thought she might at least be able to defend
herself against them, for she had distinguished herself
in the bear hunt. She slept very well for a couple of
hours, on a bed she had chosen for herself on the top of
some iron spikes. But the rats could not or would not
forego the horny skin about her paws ; and they gnawed
her feet and nails so ferociously that we drew her up
yelping and vanquished.’

RATS.

77

A hungry rat will sometimes attack and kill an in¬
fant ; a case occurred in 1853, at Bristol. 4 The mother
was woke by the cries of her child, and she found that
the poor little thing had been bitten by a rat under the
right eye, and it was bleeding profusely.’ It ultimately
died of haemorrhage, the rat’s sharp tooth having probably
cut across an artery or a vein.

Rats will sometimes attack living men, though in this
case fear, and not hunger, is their motive. Mr. Mayhew
writes as follows : — 4 About that time a troop of rats flew
at the feet of another of my informants (one of the men
who work in the London sewers), and would have no
doubt maimed him seriously, 44 but my boots,” said he,
44 stopped the devils.” 44 The sewers generally swarm
with rats,” said another man : 44 1 runs away from ’em, I
don’t like ’em. They in general gets away from us ;
but in case we comes to a stunt end where there is a
wall and no place for ’em to get away, and we goes to
touch ’em, they fly at us. They’re some of ’em as big
as good-sized kittens. One of our men caught hold of
one the other day by the tail, and he found it trying to
release itself, and the tail slipping through his fingers ;
so he put up his left hand to stop it, and the rat caught
hold of his finger, and the man’s got an arm now as big
as his thigh.” ’

Rats are very fond of warmth, and will remain coiled
up for hours in any snug retreat where they can find
this very necessary element of their existence: The fol¬
lowing anecdote well illustrates this point : — My late
father, when Fellow of Corpus College, Oxford, many
years ago, on arriving at his rooms late one night,
found that a rat was running about among the books
and geological specimens, behind the sofa, under the

78

RATS.

fender, and poking his nose into every hiding-place be
could find. Being studiously inclined, and wishing to
set to work at his books, he pursued, him, armed with the
poker in one hand, and a large dictionary, big enough to
crush any rat, in the other, but in vain ; Mr. Rat was
not to be caught, particularly when such 4 Arina Scho-
lastica’ were used.

No sooner had the studies recommenced, than the rat
resumed his gambols, squeaking and rushing about the
room like a mad creature. The battle was renewed and
continued at intervals, to the destruction of all studies,
till quite a late hour at night, when the pursuer, angry
and wearied, retired to his adjoining bedroom : though
he listened attentively, he heard no more of the enemy,
and soon fell asleep. In the morning, he was astonished
to find something warm lying on his chest ; carefully
lifting up the bed-clothes he discovered his tormentor of
the preceding night quietly and snugly ensconced in a
fold in the blanket, and taking advantage of the bodily
warmth of his two-legged adversary. These two lay
looking daggers at each other for some minutes, the one
unwilling to leave his warm berth, the other afraid
to put his hand out from under the protection of
the coverlid, particularly as the stranger’s aspect was
anything but friendly, his little sharp teeth and fierce
*Atle black eyes seeming to say, 4 Paws off from me, if
you please !’

At length, remembering the maxim that 4 discretion is
the better part of valour’ — the truth of which, I imagine,
rats understand as well as most creatures — he made a
sudden jump off the bed, scuttled away into the next
room, and was never seen or heard of afterwards.

In my college rooms at Christchurch, a bachelor rat

RATS.

79

had taken up his quarters, but where these quarters were
1 never could find ; he used to appear on the floor
when all was quiet and disappear again on the slightest
noise. I never could catch him, but he was a terrible
nuisance, for he made a great noise running about during
the night. The scout used to put out the breakfast
before the chapel hour, and when I returned I frequently
found marks of the rat’s paws and teeth on the butter-
pat. What became of him in the long vacation I could
not tell ; on my return to the rooms he soon re-ap¬
peared. At last I found his retreat : it was under a heap
of papers on a side table, and he had made his nest in an
old college cap. He had lined it with pieces gnawed off
the carpet, and had made a fine store of provisions in the
shape of bits of bread, cake, cheese, and everything
edible he could find about. The collection was so va¬
rious that I made a catalogue at the time.

The love of warmth brings many rats out of the
sewers to take their siestas in the large hair warehouses
in Lambeth. They only come in the day, and decamp
at, night, probably in quest of food. They have made
runs up on to the floors where the hair is placed to dry,
and, finding a nice soft bit, roll themselves up quite into
a ball ; the outside of which is horse-hair, the nucleus a
live rat. The boys connected with the establishment
have found this out, and go feeling among the hair with
their hands. The moment they come on a lump harder
than the rest, they pounce upon it without fear, for the
rat cannot bite through his thick self-made great-coat :
they then rush off to a tub of water and shake poor Mr.
Rat out of his hairy (not downy) bed into the merciless
element, when he is soon drowned.

Let us here pause for a moment, and see whether,

80

RATS.

with all his bad qualities, we cannot find some good
trait joined, and something to admire in the construc¬
tion of his body, as adapted to his very peculiar mode of
life.

The rat is one of the most despised and tormented of
created animals ; he has many enemies and very few
friends ; wherever he appears his life is in danger from
men, dogs, cats, owls, &c., who will have no mercy
on him. These perpetual persecutions oblige him to
be wary in his movements, and call for a large amount
of cunning and sagacity on his part, which give his
little sharp face a peculiarly knowing and wide-awake
appearance, which the most superficial observer must
have noticed. Though, poor creature, he is hated and
killed by man, his sworn foe, yet he is to that same un¬
grateful race a most useful servant, in the humble capa¬
city of scavenger ; for wherever man settles his habita¬
tion, even in the most remote parts of the earth, there,
as if by magic, appear our friends the rats. There were
thousands of rats in the camp before Sevastopol ; and a
rat-hunt in the trenches was not an uncommon occur¬
rence. Again, they swarm at the camp at Aldershot :
the sentries see them at night going to the nearest
water to drink. The rat quietly takes possession of the
out-houses, drains, &c., and occupies himself by devour¬
ing the refuse and filth thrown away from the dwelling
of his master (under whose fioor, as well as roof, he
livfes). This refuse, if left to decay, would engender
fever, malaria, and all kinds of horrors, to the destruc¬
tion of the children of the family, were it not for the un¬
remitting exertions of the rats to get rid of it, in a way
no doubt agreeable to themselves, namely, by eating it.
Let us take an example. The sewers adjoining a

RATS.

81

connected series of slaughter-houses, as Newgate-market.
Whitechapel, Clare-market, &c., are often nearly choked
up with offal and the foul refuse of animal matter, swept
into them by the careless butchers. It may be imagined
what fearful maladies would arise from this putrid mass
if it were allowed to stay there neglected. How is this
evil result prevented ? Why, by the poor, persecuted
rats, who live there in swarms, and devour every morsel
of concentrated cholera as it comes down to them, pro¬
fiting, thereby, themselves and the inhabitants of the
houses who reside above their haunts.

The late Professor Coleman remarked that a rat was
the only animal who would thrive, and always have a
clean coat, living, at the same time, in the most filthy and
stinking places. And he was right ; for a rat will live in
air that would be fatal to any other animal. Hence, too,
we see why the rat is always cleaning himself. Never
does a rat finish a bit of food, or is touched by human
hand, but that he cleans himself immediately afterwards.

Passing lately through Newgate-market, I inquired
concerning the rats, and was told by several butchers
that but few rats are now seen there. A war of exter¬
mination was waged against them not very long ago, and
all were killed that could be killed. The holes were
covered with iron, and the rats obliged to remain in
their drains. Again, the rats are deprived of most of
their perquisites, even when they do get out, by the
officers of the Sanitary Commission, who take good care
that the offal shall be removed very frequently. Talking
to a man who kills horses in the neighbourhood of
Regent’s Park, I learnt that formerly they used to con¬
gregate in great numbers in the place where he used to
stack the horses’ bones ; and that when the bones have

<i

82

RATS.

been removed, between eighteen and twenty dozen rats
have been slain in a morning — this, after the bones had
been allowed to remain many months undisturbed.
Now, however, in these degenerate times, he is obliged
by the Commissioners to remove the bones of every three
horses ; and a rat is but seldom seen. When in Paris,
I paid a visit to the horse-slaughtering place at Mont-
faucon ; there I saw from fifteen to twenty horses,
tied up in a row, all to be killed that day. I was told
that sometimes they slay double that number. The
horse being killed, and the skin taken off, the carcass
is cut up with hatchets, and thrown into a huge metal
tub, big enough to contain the bodies of several horses ;
when it is full, the top is fixed on, and steam turned
into it. After a time the lid is again taken off, and it
is found that the steam has quite separated all the flesh
from the bones, which are beautifully white. The
bones, are then picked out, and placed in stacks ; the
flesh is thrown out by shovels, and spread out widely on
floors, to which the air has free access. It soon be¬
comes quite hard and dry, and is then sent off in sacks
to the chemist, who, operating on it, soon converts it
into Prussiate of Potash, and this, again, into Prussian
blue. The bones are ground up in a mill for manure ;
so that, in a comparatively short space of time, the
horse, having worn out his energies in the service
of man, and being of no further use, is converted, one
half into Prussian blue, the other into loaves of bread,
through the medium of the wheat which absorbs his
powdered skeleton. Tims the Frenchman practically
carries out the threat of the ogre, who, when he smelt
the Englishman, pronounced the following anathema
against him —

RATS.

83

‘ Fe fa fum ;

I smell the blood of an Englishman ;

Be he alive or be he dead,

I’ll grind his bones to make my bread'

In the place where these bones are stacked Avere
plenty of rats. It is walled round ; and in the inside
of the wall are several holes left. When the bones are
taken out, the rats, finding themselves becoming ex¬
posed, endeavour to conceal themselves in the holes.
These holes are only just deep enough to contain half
their bodies ; and their tails are left exposed, capital
handles for the men to catch them by. They are placed,
when caught, in cages, and carried off. But what be¬
comes of them? We have heard that their skins are
used to make gloves. I have inquired in many glove-
shops in London for gloves of this description ; and
friends in Paris have also made the same inquiries,
but without success. Either they are not used for this
purpose, or, what is more probable, the glove-dealers
won’t own to rat-skins in their gloves. By way of
testing the fact, I have tanned several rat-skins ; and
the result of my experiment is that, in a prepared state,
the skins are very thin and very fragile ; still, however,
they might be made into gloves of a very delicate
description.

The thumbs of gloves are generally of a different
kind of leather to that of the rest of the glove. Rat-
skins would do well for the thumb part of the glove.

Small delicate hairs are often seen still adhering to
gloves— I am keeping a sharp look-out for these, to
examine them vvith a microscope. The structure of a
rat’s hair is very peculiar, and is unaltered by being
immersed in tanning ; so that, if I could find the hair of

g 2

84

RATS.

a rat still remaining on the skin which forms the glove,
I could verify the fact of rat-skins being used by the
French furriers. Plate II. Fig. 2, gives the appearance
of a rat’s hair under the microscope.

Not very long ago, a portion of hard, dry skin was
found underneath the bossed dread of a huge iron nail,
that was fixed into the door of the Chapter-house at
Westminster. Upon this skin were found several hairs.
Mr. Quekett, curator of the museum of the College of
Surgeons, recognised this hair to be human, and
asserted that it belonged to a fair-haired person. In
former times, the Danes used to come up the mouths of
the English rivers to pillage the churches. When
they were caught, they were skinned, and their skins
nailed to the door of the church they attacked. In the
course of time, all the exposed portion would peel off ;
that covered by the nail would remain protected, and
thus bear testimony to the cruelty of our ancestors.

In the College of Surgeons may be seen three speci¬
mens of human skin, presented by Mr. Albert Way,
viz. — i Portion of human skin, said to be that of a
Dane, from the door of a church at Hadstock, Essex
a second specimen is from Copford, in Essex ; and
a third from ; The North door of Worcester Cathe¬
dral.’

Again : a murder was, by means of a few hairs
brought home to a cruel woman, who had cut the
throat of her little daughter. These hairs were found on
the blade of a. knife and sent to an eminent microscopist
for examination. They came back labelled, 4 Hairs of a
squirrel.’ Now, this fact convicted the woman, as it
was the link wanting in the chain of evidence. The
I>oor child, when murdered, had on a boa made of

RATS.

85

squirrels’ hair, and some of the hair had adhered to the
knife when the murder was committed.

Should the idea of utilizing rat-skins come into
operation, my friend Mr. Coulson suggests opening a
trade with the Chinese for the skins of the rats which
they eat. This would be anew feature in the fur trade.
Even in England rats’ skins have been sometimes used
for the purpose of clothing ; but this, as will appear
from the following paragraph extracted from an old
newspaper, was more for ornament than use : —

‘An ingenious individual of Liskeard, Cornwall, lias
for some time past been exhibiting himself in a dress
composed from top to toe of rat-skins, which he has been
collecting for three years and a half. The dress was
made entirely by himself : it consists of hat, necker¬
chief, coat, waistcoat, trousers, tippet, gaiters, and
shoes. The number of rats required to complete the
suit was 670 ; and the individual, when thus dressed,
appears exactly like one of the Esquimaux described in
the travels of Parry and Ross. The tippet, or boa, is
composed of the pieces of skin immediately round the
tails of the rats, and is a very curious part of the dress,
containing about 600 tails — and those none of the
shortest.’

Again : ( A lady in town (Glasgow) has just now a
pair of shoes, of exquisite workmanship, the upper
parts being made of the skins of rats. The leather is ex¬
ceedingly smooth, and as soft as the finest kid, and
appears stout and firm. It took six skins to make the
pair of shoes, as the back of the skin is the only part
stout enough for use.’

An eminent skin-merchant in the City informed me,
that several years ago a batch of several thousand rat-

86

RATS.

skins were imported from France, but they did not
answer for manufacturing purposes, as they were too
small, and too fine in texture. None are now imported
that he knows of.

An old book on natural history thus describes the
rat’s personal appearance: — ‘The eyes are large and
black ; the tail is covered with minute scales, mixed
with a few short hairs ; and the general figure is dis¬
gusting.’ Now this very tail, ugly as it may appear,
is mentioned by the great Cuvier as one of the first
things that struck his mind, as demonstrating the bounty
of the Creator towards the humblest of his creatures, in
adapting their bodily formation to the peculiar mode of
life which He intended them to enjoy. We all admire
the wonderful construction and admirable working to¬
gether of the numerous muscles of the human hand and
forearm, yet, says Cuvier, ‘ there are more muscles in
a rat’s tail than there are in that part of the human
economy we admire so much, the hand.’

The tail is indeed a most useful appendage to the
rat : it is composed of a chain of small bones, with a
multitude of muscles above mentioned to move them.
‘ Many minute scales and short hairs cover it, and thus
constructed it becomes prehensile, as the tails of many
monkeys and lemurs ; in fact, a sort of hand to the
rat, by means of which he is enabled to crawl along
the tops of railings, and along narrow ledges of walls,
balancing himself by it, or entwining it round the pro¬
jecting portions of the difficult passages along which his
course lies. By means of it, too, he is enabled to spring
up heights otherwise inaccessible, using it on these
occasions (like the kangaroo), as a lever, or rather as a
projectile spring. When, moreover, according to a

RATS.

67

story, which requires confirmation, the delicious oil or
sweet wine lies beneath his reach in the long-necked
Dottle, his ever-useful tail serves him in good turn ;
he dips it into the coveted fluid, and then enjoys the
reward of his sagacity, and says to himself, as he licks
it up, 4 What’s a rat without a tail ?’

He can climb up trees also, for many years ago a
gentleman who had rooms at Christ-church, Oxford,
looking on to a garden belonging to Oriel College
opposite, observed the rats climb up the currant-bushes
and eat the fruit, while the boughs were bending, and
almost breaking with their weight. The loss of the fruit
was put down to biped thieves ; nobody ever thought
of the rats.

We all know that rats can burrow well. Mr. Bishop,
the celebrated gun-maker of Bond-street, tells me that he
recollects that at Ealing, near London, there were, once
upon a time, some gooseberry-trees, planted in a row.
These trees suddenly died, and they died in a regular
order, one after the other. Nobody could tell the
reason, till one day a tree was dug up, and its roots were
found 4 striptoff as if with a scissors.’ They found, also,
a hole under the trees, and at the end of the hole an
enormous rat. 4 This rat,’ says Bishop, 4 had begun at
the first tree, gone on to the second, and so on till it had
eaten the roots of all the trees, and killed them.’ I
tell the tale as it was told to me.

The rat is admirably armed and equipped for the
peculiar mode of life which he is ordained to lead. He
has formidable weapons in the shape of four small, long,
and very sharp teeth, two of which are fixed in the
upper and two in the under jaw. These are formed in
the shape of a wedge, and by the following wonderful

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RATS

provision ot Nature, have always a fine sharp cutting
edge. On examining them ^carefully, we find that the
inner part is of a soft, ivory-like composition, which
may be easily worn away, whereas the outside is com¬
posed of a glass-like enamel, which is excessively hard.
The next time the reader has a boiled rabbit for dinner,
let him perform a simple experiment and convince him¬
self of this peculiar structure common to the rat, rabbit,
and, in fact, to all rodent animals. Let him extract
from the rabbit’s jaw one of the teeth, and with his pen¬
knife let him ascertain the comparative hardness of the
two component parts of the tooth : he will find that he
will be able easily to cut away the internal softer por¬
tion, but that the external hard, glass-like enamel of the
tooth will be so hard that it will not only resist the
knife, but will readily cut and scratch the human nail.
He will also, if the rabbit be not boiled too much, ob¬
serve that the lower end of the tooth is quite hollow
and contains a jelly-like substance. This substance is
the pulp of the tooth, which, by the addition of earthy
matter, and gradually growing onwards, ultimately be¬
comes hard, true tooth-material. On showing a rat’s
tooth, taken out of its socket, to a friend who has been
through the worst part of the Crimean campaign, he
looked at it attentively and said, 4 Ah, if a Zouave had
that he would soon fasten it on to a bit of stick, and
turn it to some useful purpose.’ The upper teeth work
exactly into the under, so that the centres of the opposed
teeth meet exactly in the act of gnawing ; the soft part
is thus being perpetually worn away, while the hard
part keeps a sharp, chisel-like edge ; at the same time
the teeth grow up from the bottom, so that as they
wear away a fresh supply is ready. The consequence

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of this arrangement is, that if one of the teeth be
removed, either by accident or on purpose, the opposed
tooth will continue to grow upwards ; and as there is
nothing to grind it away, will project from the mouth
and be turned upon itself ; or if it be an under tooth
it will even run into the skull above. There is a
preparation in the museum of the Royal College of
Surgeons which well illustrates this fact. It is an
incisor tooth of a rat, which, from the cause above men¬
tioned, has increased its growth upwards to such a
degree, that it has formed a complete circle and a seg¬
ment of another. The diameter of it is about large
enough to admit a good-sized thumb. It is accom¬
panied by the following memorandum, addressed by a
Spanish priest to Sir J. Banks, who presented it to the
museum : — ‘ I send you an extraordinary tooth of a rat.
Believe me it was found in the Nazareth garden (to
which order I belong). I was present when the animal
was killed, and took the tooth. I know not its virtues,
nor have the natives discovered them.’* See Plate II.
Fig. 1.

In the same cabinet as the above specimens, there are
others, illustrating the same point, both in rats and
rabbits ; as, for example, No. 2232, of which I give a
drawing, Plate II. Fig. 5. In this case the under
teeth are seen in their places, but shorter than they are
naturally : probably the under teeth of this rat had
been knocked off by an accident, and the upper teeth
being unopposed, grew in the form of a ring, before
the others had time to attain their natural size, and so
keep the upper teeth in check by wearing them down.
The beaver, too, being a rodent, or gnawing animal, is

* Quoted by the Quarterly Review.

90

RATS.

subject to the same dental accident; and we find in No.
2203 a very remarkable case in. point. Here the tooth
in the right half of the lower jaw, from want of opposition
to its corresponding tooth, has proceeded to grow until it
has again penetrated the mouth, near the spot where it is
joined to the upper jaw, thus completing a circle. It is
not improbable that the right half of this poor beaver’s
jaw became dislocated from its socket by an accident
some considerable time before its death; for otherwise
there would not have been time for the tooth to have
grown to such an extent : the beaver meanwhile con¬
tinued able to eat with the left half of the lower
jaw, which was not dislocated. The portion of the
lower jaw which forms the actual joint confirms this
supposition, for it is quite rough, and exhibits signs of
inflammation having taken place ; whereas it ought in
a natural state to be of a glass-like smoothness. The
molar teeth, too, in the dislocated side have grown
beyond their usual size. These beaver’s teeth are
formidable weapons, and there is a bit of wood close by
the last-mentioned specimen, beautifully grooved by
their sharp cutting teeth.

Beavers have not long been extinct in England. I
have a fine specimen of a beaver’s jaw, not fossil, dug
up in the fens of Lincolnshire, and I have heard on
good authority that beavers were killed in Wales in the
time of Oliver Cromwell. Still I imagine they were
never very common, for I have never yet seen a
beaver’s bone or tooth among ancient British or Saxon
remains. These former inhabitants of Great Britain
used much bone in their household implements, and
had beavers been common, we should probably find
some bone or other converted to some useful domestic
purpose.

RATS.

91

There is a curious but little known fact, which well
illustrates the ravages which the rats can inflict on a
hard substance with their little sharp teeth. Many of
the elephants’ tusks imported into London for the use
of the various workers in ivory are observed to have
their surfaces grooved into small furrows of unequal
depths, as though cut out by a very sharp-edged instru
ment. Surely no man would have taken the trouble to
do this, for what would be the profit of his labour ?
The rats, however, have found out there is something
worth working for, or else, clever fellows, they would not
have used their chisel-like teeth with such effect. They
have discovered which tusks contain the most gelatine
or animal glue — a sweet and delicious morsel for their
dainty palates ; and, having gnawed away as much as
suited their purpose, have left the rest for the ivory-
cutter ; he, for his part, is neither unable nor unwilling
to profit by the fact marked out by the rats’ teeth ;
for ivory which contains gelatine is particularly valuable
for many purposes.

Being anxious to get further evidence on this point, I
called upon Mr. Robert Thomas Fauntleroy, of the great
ivory firm in Tooley Street, near the London Bridge
Station. He most politely and kindly took me into his
warehouse, where, arranged on shelves, and placed on
the floor, I saw more elephants’ tusks than I ever saw
together before in my life, representing altogether a
vast amount of capital. In these rooms were tusks of
elephants from all parts of the world where elephants
exist — from India, Ceylon, North Africa, the Cape,
Siam, &c. ; each having their peculiar characteristics ,
which I cannot now go into, as this is not a special
treatise on ivory. In the room devoted to the tusks

92

RATS.

from India a delicious odour pervaded the whole
place ; this proceeded from the Indian spices and other
foreign aromatic substances, which had been packed with
the tusks. In the room set apart for African ivory, I
scanned the rows of tusks, and to my delight found many
— nay, very many — gnawed by rats ; guessing roughly,
about one tusk in twenty was rat-gnawed. Now from ex¬
perience I can swear to the mark of a rat’s tooth, whether
the material gnawed be hard or soft, and if ever I saw the
marks of rats’ teeth, it was upon these tusks. The rats
had touched only just the tip of the tooth, and in one
instance they had gnawed the tip quite away, leaving a
blunt stump ; this must have been a particularly savoury
tusk. In one tusk only could I find marks at the upper
end, and these but very slight : the rat had been making
an experiment to see whether it was good ; he had
found out that there was but little gelatine up there,
and therefore had not prosecuted his researches. It is
a curious fact, as narrated to me by Mr. Jaques, the
ivory-turner of Hatton Garden, that the rats gnaw the
African ivory, more especially that which is called green
ivory, on account of its amber-tinted, transparent colour ;
Indian ivory they will not, and do not touch ; there is
not enough gelatine in it to make it worth their while
to be at the trouble of gnawing. Even of the African
ivory they touch only the tip and lower extremity, and
why ? because it is the purest, and densest, and softest
part of the tusk.

When this article on rats first appeared in Bentley’s
Miscellany, I stated that the ivory-turner chooses the
rat-gnawn ivory to make his billiard-balls; and this
statement was copied by the Quarterly Review ; but I
have since ascertained that I was mistaken in the fact.

RATS.

93

I consulted Mr. Jaques upon the subject, and he tells
me that billiard-balls are made only of East Indian
ivory, that which the rats never touch ; and not of
African ivory, which they always do touch. The
African ivory contains more moisture and gelatine than
the other kind ; and this occasions the ivory to shrink
in drying, and consequently the ball, when turned, to
get out of the round ; it is, however, very valuable to
make other articles, not billiard-balls. Mr. Jaques
tells me that the trade have always given the alligators
the credit of gnawing the ivory ; which is simply im¬
possible, for when and where could they have the
opportunity of getting at the tusks? And even if they
had been gnawing — or rather champing at it, for an
alligator is not a rodent, or gnawing animal — the marks
on the ivory would have been very different to those
made by the rats. Mr. Jaques confirms the fact, that
where the gnawing has taken place, the ivory has been
6 very transparent, and of the finest quality.’

In my father’s museum at Oxford is a specimen of
a rat-gnawn tusk, of which a drawing is given (Plate
II. Fig 4.). From the shape, it will be readily seen that
it is the lower end of the tusk ; the grooves in it are
very deep, and very well marked. I find that, with
a tooth taken from the skull of a rat, I can easily make
grooves in this bit of ivory similar to those made by the
rats when alive — only, of course, my grooves are not so
clean cut as those made by the live rats.

The ivory-turner values his ‘ tips ’ or 6 points ’ more
than any part of the tusk. The 4 hollow ’ part of the tusk
is cut either into sections to make napkin rings, or
into strips to make paper cutters. The tip is used for the
more delicate turnings, and particularly for fine carv¬
ings, as brooches, umbrella and parasol handles, and

94

EATS.

ivory chessmen. It is, it appears, very difficult indeed to
turn a billiard-ball perfectly true. It may be as true a
circle as the lathe can make it, and yet not be a good ball
when put to the test. The test is this : the ball is rolled
gently along a billiard-table, till it stops of its own
accord. If at that moment it falls either to one
side or the other, it is useless to the player ; if, on the
contrary, it remains motionless on the same line on
which it was originally projected, it is allowed to pass
muster. The density of the ivory in different parts of
the tusk occasions this difference to the ball, and often
gives great annoyance to the ivory-turner, who, after
all his trouble in turning, finds his ball untrue from
causes beyond his reach. One would have thought
that a billiard-ball would have lasted for ever, but it
appears they very soon wear out ; many thousands are
exported to Paris and the large continental cities, and
also to New York, in which places the billiard-tables
are going day and night : the consumption of billiard-
balls from this cause is astonishing.

The rats are useful in an indirect way to the pur¬
chaser of ivory from another cause. Not only is the
fact of the rat’s judgment in choosing good ivory, by
making a meal of it, acknowledged and acted upon by
the turner who wishes to get a good bit of ivory; but
the mark of his teeth will show to the eye what the
substance of the ivory, otherwise concealed under the
external crust of the tusk, is like — whether good, bad, or
indifferent. Many a turner will give the merchant a
higher sum for a tusk, if previous to the bargain he will
saw off the tip, that he may see more of the quality
of the ivory, whether the tusk is sound throughout.
Now if the rat has been gnawing, the turner does not
make this request, because in the grooves eaten by the

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95

rat, he can see plainly what the substance under the
external coat is. Inside the elephant’s tusks very
frequently bullets, both of lead and iron, are found :
those who wish to know how they got there, will find
all they want in the Proceedings of the Society of Arts,
for December 17, 1856, in a paper read by Professor
Owen, F.R.S., in which he most clearly describes
the growth of the elephant’s tusks, and the result of the
introduction of a foreign body into that tusk. I
have seen two or three good specimens of bullets in
solid ivory, in a shop window in St. Paul’s Churchyard :
these balls are of lead or iron, and I understand that
in this shop a tusk was once cut which contained a
bullet of gold. In Mr. Fauntleroy’s warehouse I saw
an entire skull of an elephant, which was exhibited in
the Exhibition of 1851.* A special order was sent to
the West Coast of Africa for this skull, African skulls
being rare in Europe. This poor brute had been in
the wars, for I detected a lead ball flattened and
sticking into the bone just above the eye. Upon examin¬
ing the head more minutely, I found at the top of the
skull a hole large enough to admit a finger: it was a
shot hole, for the edges of the bone round were pressed
inwards, and there were marks round it where the pe¬
riosteum of the bone had been inflamed. The fracture
had, however, partially healed up. In my opinion the
bullet found had entered the head by this hole, and
traversed the cellular substance of the skull till it
had been arrested on the opposite side by the great
masticatory muscle ; and having there spent its force,

* Since sent by Mr. Fauntleroy to the South Kensington
Museum, where it can he seen forming the nucleus of a fine col¬
lection of ivory, both manufactured and in the natural state.

96

RATS.

it remained, and remains to this day firmly fixed
in the wall of the skull. I also observed a great
quantity of the teeth of the sea-cow, or walrus. Each
tooth has a hole bored in it by the Esquimaux, wno
having passed a bit of seal-skin, or gut, through it,
transport it from place to place. In one instance the
tooth has split under the operation, showing the struc¬
ture beautifully. The Hippopotamus is commercially
called sea-horse, while the walrus is called sea-cow :
these two varieties of ivory are much used in the manu¬
facture of artificial human teeth. Some of the elephants’
tusks also were bored, but for a different purpose. On
account of their weight they are difficult to get off to
the ships : they are therefore often bored in the hollow
part, and slung on to empty casks, and thus conveyed
safely to the ship in the offing, through the surf, which
dashes on the shore. Many of the tusks are covered
with minute cracks, and Mr. Fauntleroy informed me
that these, cracks were generally found in North
African ivory. This ivory is conveyed on the backs of
camels over the desert ; the camels are unladen every
night, and the tusks are placed on the ground : the dew
moistens them, and the next morning they are placed,
without being wiped, on the camel’s back again. The
burning sun of the desert falls full upon them all the
next day’s march, and this alternation of heat and
moisture causes the tusks to crack : good specimens of
this cracked ivory can be seen fastened to the wall
outside Mr. Holtzapfell’s shop at Charing Cross.
Strange to say, these tusks have more cracks inside than
appear externally, evidencing the superior hardness of
the 4 bark,’ as the outer coat of the tusk is called.

Apropos to elephants, my friend Mr. Neil, the engineer,
told me a capital story of one. A menagerie came once

RATS.

97

upon a time to Lavington, near Devizes, and at night¬
fall they turned the elephant out into a grass held to eat
his fill. The beast found out that there were turnips
not far off, so he got through the fence and made
terrible havoc among them. In the early morning, a
labourer comes, and finds the elephant pulling up the
turnips with his trunk, and devouring them. He rushes
off to his master, and says, 6 Master, master, do come,
there is an awful beast in the turnip-field, a walking
backwards and a picking up turnips with his curly tail !’
The man had never seen an elephant before, and mis¬
took his trunk for his tail.

Mr. Fauntleroy tells me that even in his warehouse,
the rats will find out and gnaw the so-called ivory-nut,
or vegetable ivory, sometimes nearly consuming the en¬
tire nut. Now this fact of rats gnawing ivory is not
only an important diagnostic mark in the choosing of a
tusk, but we ourselves follow the rats’ example, and for
the same reason. In the manufacturing districts many
tons of ivory are sawn up to make handles of knives
and forks. ^ From this operation a great quantity of dust
of ivory is the consequence. This dust is sold at the
rate of sixpence a pound, and when properly boiled, and
otherwise treated, makes the finest, purest, and most
nutritious animal jelly that we know of. I lately

* According to Mr. P. L. Simmonds, the total imports of ivory
in the past three years have shown a gradual decline : the imports
from India and the East, according to a parliamentary paper,
averaged, the last seven years, about 3341 cwt., estimated, in
1855, at 68,874/. When we come to consider that each elephant
has but two tusks, and how many must be killed to make up the
above weight, it will be easily seen how it is that elephants are
gradually getting rare, and the hunters obliged to go further
inland for them.

li

98

RATS.

recommended this ivory jelly to a patient, tv ho required
some form of food highly nutritious, but yet not bulky,
and my prescription answered admirably. The ivory-
dust can be procured at most of the large ivory-turners
in London. Years ago ivory jelly used to be a fashion¬
able remedy, and much sought after, and it only now
requires to be known to be appreciated.*

Rats have a remarkable instinct for finding out where
there is anything good for food ; and it has been often
a subject of wonder how they manage to get on board
ships laden with sugar and other attractive cargoes.
This mystery has, however, been cleared up, for they
ltave been seen to come off shore to the ship by means
of the rope by which she is moored to the quay,
although at some distance from the shore. By the
same means they will leave the ship when she comes
into port, if they find their quarters filling or filled with
water ; hence the saying, that 4 rats always leave a sinking
ship/ is perfectly true. If, however, the ship be water¬
tight, they will continue breeding to an enormous ex¬
tent. M. de St Pierre informs us, that on the return of
the 4 Valiant. ’ man-of-war from the Havannah, in the
year 1766, its rats had increased to such a degree that
they destroyed a hundred weight of biscuit daily. The
ship was at length smoked between decks, in order to
suffocate them ; and six hampers were for some time
filled every day with the rats that had thus been killed.

Rats are not selfish animals : having found out

* Receipt to make Ivory-dust jelly. — In a brown stewing-pan
with a cover, put lib. of ivory-dust, and three quarts of water;
let it gently simmer for twelve hours, or until it is reduced to
one quart; then put it away to cool, and take the clear jelly
off Add wine and oucar ad libitum.

RATS.

99

where the feast is stored, thev will kindly commit ni-
cate the intelligence to their friends and neighbours.
The following anecdote will confirm this fact. A cer¬
tain worthy old lady, named Mrs. Oke, who resided at
Axminster several years ago, made a cask of sweet
wine, for which she was celebrated, and carefully placed
it on a shelf in the cellar. The second night after this
event she was frightened almost to death by a strange
unaccountable noise in the said cellar. The household
was called up, and a search made, but nothing was
found to clear up the mystery. The next night, as
soon as the lights were extinguished and the house quiet,
this dreadful noise was heard again. This time it was
most alarming ; a sound of squeaking, crying, knock¬
ing, pattering feet ; then a dull scratching sound, with
many other such ghostly noises, which continued
throughout the live-long night. The old lady lay in
bed with the candle alight, pale and sleepless with fright,
anon muttering her prayers, anon determined to fire off
the rusty old blunderbuss that hung over the chimney-
piece. At last the morning broke, and the cock began
to crow. ‘ Now,’ thought she, ‘ the ghosts must disap¬
pear.’ To her infinite relief the noise really did cease,
and the poor frightened dame adjusted her nightcap and
fell asleep. Great preparations had she made for the
next night ; farm servants armed with pitchforks slept
in the house ; the maids took the family dinner-bell
and the tinder-box into their room ; the big dog was
tied to the hall-table. Then the dame retired to her
room, not to sleep, but to sit up in the arm-chair
by the fire, keeping a drowsy guard over the neigh¬
bour’s loaded horse-pistols, of which she was almost as
much afraid as she was of the ghost in the cellar.

h 2

100

RATS.

Sure enough her warlike preparations had succeeded ;
the ghost was certainly frightened ; not a noise, not a
sound, except the heavy snoring of the bumpkins, and
the rattling of the dog’s chain in the hall could be heard.
She had gained a complete victory ; the ghost was never
heard again on the premises ; and the whole affair was
soon forgotten. Some weeks afterwards some friends
dropped in to take a cup of tea, and talk over the last
piece of gossip. Among other things the wine was men¬
tioned, and the maid sent to get some from the cellar.
She soon returned, and gasping for breath, rushed into
the room exclaiming, — ‘ ’Tisall gone, ma’am ;’ and sure
enough it was all gone. ‘ The ghost has taken it,’ —
not a drop was left, only the empty cask remained, the
side was half eaten away, and marks of sharp teeth
were visible round the rugged margins of the newly-
made bung-hole.

This discovery fully accounted for the noise the ghost
had made, which caused so much alarm. The abori¬
ginal rats in the dame’s cellar had found out the wine,
and communicated the joyful news to all the other rats
in the parish ; they had assembled there to enjoy the
fun, and get very tipsy (which, judging from the
noise they made, they certainly did) on this treasured
cask of wine. Being quite a family party they had
finished it in two nights, and having got all they could,
like wise rats, they returned to their respective homes,
perfectly unconscious that their merry-making had nearly
been the death of the rightful owner and ‘ founder of the
least.’ They had first gnawed out the cork, and got as
much out as they could : they soon found that the more
they drank the lower the wine became. Perseverance is
the motto of the rat, so they set to work and ate away the

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101

wood to the level of the wine again. This they conti¬
nued till they had emptied the cask : they must then
have got into it and licked up the last drains, for ano¬
ther and less agreeable smell was substituted for that of
wine. T may add, that this cask, with the side gone
and the marks of the rats’ teeth, is still in my possession.

Rats, like men, being kindly disposed, often give in¬
formation of good things to others, which, alas ! may
prove in the end to be the destruction both of the in¬
formers and the informed. I give a case in point.

A country gentleman was much annoyed by a colony
of rats which had settled in his cellars, and, though he
caught several of them in traps, yet he never could suc¬
ceed in getting rid of them entirely. At last, knowing
well the habits of the animal, he determined on destroy¬
ing the whole colony at one grand coup. He therefore
procured a large box, and, having half filled it with
meal, sat himself down in the cellar by the side of it,
concealing his person under some sacks, and leaving
only a spy-hole for his eyes. The rats soon poked
their noses out to reconnoitre, timidly at first, but soon
they came out and began to eat the meal sprinkled
about, cautiously, however, keeping one eye upon the
mysterious bundle in the corner.

The next night he repeated the same plan of action.
The rats this time were bold enough to get into the box
by means of little ladders placed for them. The first,
of them was rewarded by a plentiful feast of meal, and
was soon joined by many hungry companions.

On the fourth night, however, it was determined to
put an end to their proceedings. By this time the rats
had lost all fear, and had spread the news far and
wide of their good fortune, so that there was a large

102

RATS.

assembly of them in the box, greedily devouring the
remains of the meal, unsuspicious of the fate that
awaited them at the hands of the apparently innocent
bundle, of which they had now no dread.

Mistaken creatures ! up rose the executioner, and
down went the lid. The rats became prisoners under a
padlock, with strong oak boards between them and
liberty. The next morning the box and its living con¬
tents were lifted into the yard, and, at a signal, launched
into a horsepond. It swayed to and fro, and while kept
under water with poles by two men, the numerous
bubbles of air escaping from the chinks of the box told
plainly of the death-struggles of the little quadrupeds
within.

At length all was quiet. The colony of rats, which
had possessed the cellar for so many generations, was no
more. Their holes were filled up with mortar mixed
with glass, until a new generation should arise to meet
the same fate in some future meal-box.

There is another curious instance of rats losing their
lives in quest of food, which has been kindly communi¬
cated to me by a friend. When the atmospheric pump
was in use at the terminus of the Croydon Railway,
hundreds of rats lost their lives daily. The unscientific
creatures used in the night to get into the large iron
tube, by exhausting the air from which the railway car¬
riages were put in motion, their object being to lick off
the grease from the leather valve, which the engineers
of the line were so anxious to keep air-tight. As soon
as the air-pump was put to work for the first morning
train, there was no resisting, and out they were sucked
dead corpses ! *

* Quoted by the Quarterly Review.

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103

This atmospheric railway on one occasion certainly
committed a theft. As a train was passing a. railway
station a lady happened to have a white pocket handker¬
chief in her hand : the draught of the train snatched it
away, and it fell under the passing carriages ; in
an instant it was sucked up and drawn into the pipe, the
train passed on, and the handkerchief was never seen
again.

The rat, though naturally a savage creature, is, by
dint of kindness, capable of being tamed and made
obedient to the will of man. Some of the Japanese
tame rats and teach them to perform many entertaining
tricks ; and thus instructed exhibit them as a show for
the diversion of the populace.

We read in the Naturalists’ Cabinet, 1806, that
‘a gentleman travelling through Mecklenburg about
forty years ago, was witness to a very singular circum¬
stance in the post-house at New Ilargard. After dinner,
the landlord placed on the floor a large dish of soup, and
gave a loud whistle. Immediately there came into the
room a mastiff, a fine Angora cat, an old raven, and a
remarkably large rat, with a bell about its neck. They
all four went to the dish, and without disturbing each
other, fed together, after which the dog, cat, and rat
lay before the fire, while the raven hopped about the
room. The landlord, after accounting for the familiarity
which existed among these animals, informed his guest
that the rat was the most useful of the four, for the noise
he made had completely freed the house from the other
rats and mice with which it had previously been infested.

But capacity for becoming tame and accustomed to
the presence of man, is not confined to the 4 foreigneer ’
rats ; I myself have had many tame ones.

104

RATS.

When carrying on my observations on rats, I bought
a pair of piebalds, and put them in aWard’s case, which
formed a capital cage for them. In the course of a few
weeks my colony increased to an enormous extent : I had
specimens of almost every kind of rat — the pure white
albino rat with pink eyes, the common brown rat, the
true black rat, and the snake or ship-rat. I had to pay
several shillings for my black rat, but he was a tine
beast. By taking trouble I obtained some very remark¬
able crosses ; I had one litter half albino half black — the
white the colour of snow, the black the colour of coal.
Their physiognomy, too, was very peculiar, and a rat from
this lot might readily have been taken for a new species :
they were really very pretty creatures. I could never
obtain a cross between a black and a brown rat, except
through the medium of a hybrid in whom the blood of
the black breed existed. Of the cross between the brown
and white rat I had many live specimens, so many,
indeed, that periodically I took a bag full to the Zoo¬
logical Gardens, for the benefit of the snakes. All my
rats knew me well. The moment I came to the room they
swarmed round the door of the cage, and I was obliged
to keep them back while I put in their food, as a
huntsman does to his hounds. At feeding-time there was
not a single rat in the cage that I could not take up and
handle with impunity ; they never offered to bite me. If,
however, a stranger tried to touch them, they were all
up on their hind legs in a fighting attitude in a moment.
The snake or ship-rats, however, I acknowledge beat
me. I got two from the docks, and unwisely turned
them in with the others. In a few moments a most
tremendous fight began — snake-rats versus the company.
I put them into another cage by themselves, after having

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had the greatest difficulty in catching them ; and this,
tirst, because the moment I got hold of their tails the
skin came off in my hand, and, secondly, they were so
tremendously active that having caught them I could
hardly hold them. When you wish to catch an ordinary
rat, seize his tail, and lift him from the ground : at this
instant he will try to turn up and bite, and a most
severe bite he will give if you don’t keep perpetually
twisting him round and round — he then can’t turn up¬
wards ; then having caught him in the right hand by the
tail, swing him under the left arm. The rat will im¬
mediately endeavour to get away, and so doing fix him¬
self on your waistcoat ; bring your arm to your side, and
you have him a prisoner : then if you wish further to
examine him put the fore-finger of the right hand behind
his right shoulder and the thumb in front of the left, he
is secure and can’t possibly bite ; don’t squeeze too much
or he will die, for a rat is a tender beast, and does not
require much killing. The snake-rats, however, managed
to twist round ; one made his teeth meet in my hand,
so I let him go. A day or two afterwards I found the
remains of his body eaten by the common, or, as I then
called them, the wild rats, who used to come nightly to
the tame rats’ cage to see what they could pick up.
This, I think, was the only time I was ever bitten by a
rat, but I should nevertheless advise a novice to be
careful what he is about in his first attempts.

Rat-catchers will frequently tell you that, to prevent
the rats biting them, they put some preparation dis¬
agreeable to the rats upon their hands ; but this is not
the truth. It is done by knowing the habits of the
animal. I subjoin the experience of an old rat-catcher
on this subject : —

106

RATS.

‘ Rats may be taken out of the cage very easily ; for,
if you don’t hurt them, they will not bite you ; for, by
standing together in the trap, they are cowed, and have
not the least notion of biting, unless you should happen to
squeeze them too hard as you catch them one by one with
your hand. There is a wide difference in the temper and
disposition of these animals ; for some are so savage and
untamed, that they will set up their backs, looking very
fiercely, and crying out if you do but look at them : but
when you meet with one of this kind, shake him well in
the cage, together with the rest, and observe when he
has put his head among the others, and take him out by
his tail, and he will not bite you ; but observe, when
you have first catched them, do not go to handle them
directly, for then they are so mad and furious that they
will bite anything.’

I have frequently had rats brought to me in iron cages.
On arrival they have shown themselves exceedingly fierce,
biting at everything and uttering their peculiar cry of
alarm when 1 went near them. In the course of a few
hours they become pretty tame, even eating bread and
milk out of a spoon introduced between the bars. In a
day or two they take no notice of me whatever, except
to beg for food with their noses through the bars when
I go near ; and here, be it observed, a rat invariably
washes himself all over after eating, no matter what. The
operation is performed just as a cat does it, viz., by
licking the paws. They are naturally exceedingly clean
animals : I never yet saw a parasite of any kind on one.
When a rat eats, he, by means of his sharp front teeth,
gnaws away a mouthful, which he deposits in a sort of
pouch formed between his grinding teeth and his cheeks ;
then he ceases gnawing and masticates his food, by

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moving his jaws incessantly and without pausing. They
move ten times faster than the jaws of a rabbit. When
a rat drinks, he laps up the fluid like a dog, and does not
suck it up like sheep. A rat generally tastes his food
with his tongue previous to eating it. It is curious to
see a rat asleep. I never saw it but once, and that in a
case where the animal was ill. It is as difficult to catch
a rat asleep as it is a weasel. The rat coils himself
into a ball, and places his nose down between his hind
legs : his tail is curled up round the outside of his body :
he then looks like a mass of hair. No part of his body
projects but his two delicate ears, which are beautifully
adapted for catching the least sound, and which seem
to be placed there as sentries ; and pretty sharp sentries
they are. It is certainly not the case, as has been
stated elsewhere, 4 that the garbage on which rats live
poisons their teeth and renders the wounds they make
deadly.’ A rat, though living in and among garbage,
is always clean in its person, and his teeth are always
beautifully clean ; the yellow-looking substance on the
front part of the tooth is its natural colour, and not the
result of the accumulation of tartar.

When house-surgeon at St. George’s Hospital I had
to attend several cases of rat-bites. The result of my
experience is that a person with a good constitution will
easily recover without any severe symptoms from the
bite, which is a pure, punctured, clean-cut wound ; but
a person who has not healing power in him might suffer
severely. If a drayman who is full of beer, or a highly
fed and pampered gentleman’s servant — representatives
of the two most 4 unhealing ’ classes I know — were bitten
by a rat it would go hard with them, and they might lose
their lives. I would, myself, much rather be bitten ten

108

RATS.

times by a rat than once by a man or a horse. I have
seen severe consequences from the former accident ; and,
but lately, a slave-owner in America hit his slave in the
mouth, and the teeth made a severe wound, which ulti¬
mately proved fatal. A horse’s bite is a terrible thing' :
a poor little ‘ tiger ’ groom was brought to the hospital ;
the great cab horse, of which he had charge, pushed him
down, and then took him up between his teeth and shook
him as a cat does a mouse. The poor boy had two great
black marks on his back where the horse’s teeth had
been, just as though he had been pinched in a door. A
friend of mine, who has charge of a regiment in India,
writes to me that he has to attend to very many severe
wounds caused by the bites of camels, who not only
have front teeth like a horse, but also enormous tusks
in the upper jaw, sharp and pointed like a dog’s. I have
also been called upon to treat two or three horse-bites
which occurred in the regiment to which I belong.

Although my rats were very prolific, not above one
litter in three ever grew to be decent-sized animals.
If the mother was disturbed in any way, even by
moving her cage, she would set to work and kill and eat
every one of them. I have also seen the mother move
her little hairless and blind young from one corner ol
the cage to another in her teeth. How she manages not
to hurt them with her sharp teeth I know not ; she car¬
ries them with the greatest care and delicacy. One day
a poor mother had moved her young about into several
parts of the cage, but could not fix on one point. I saw
what was wanting, she could not obtain cover for them.
I put my hand into the cage full of tow and cotton
wool ; she came instantly and took it out of my hand
and covered up her young. But, notwithstanding all

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109

tliis care, and although evidently most anxious for their
welfare, this kind mother, obeying, I suppose, some wise
law of nature, devoured during the following night
every one of the little ones of which she had been so
careful the preceding day.

Talking of tame rats, I knew a worthy whipmaker
who worked hard at his trade to support a large family.
He had prepared a number of strips of leather, by well
oiling and greasing them. He carefully laid them by in
a box, but, strange to say, they disappeared one by one ;
nobody knew anything about them, nobody had touched
them.

However, one day, as he was sitting at work in his
shop, a large black rat, of the original British species,
slyly poked his head up out of a hole in the corner of
the room, and deliberately took a survey of the whole
place. Seeing all quiet, out he came, and ran straight
to the box wherein were kept the favourite leather strips.
In he dived, and quickly reappeared, carrying in his
mouth the most dainty morsel he could find. Off he ran
to his hole, and quickly vanished. Having thus found
out the thief, the saddler determined to catch him. He
accordingly propped up a sieve with a stick, and put a
bait underneath ; in a few minutes out came the rat
again, smelling the inviting toasted cheese, and forth¬
with attacked it. The moment he began nibbling: at
the bait, down came the sieve, and he became a prisoner.
‘Now,’ thought he, ‘ my life depends upon my behaviour
when this horrid sieve is lifted up by that two-legged
wretch with the apron on, who so kindly cuts the greasy
thongs for me every day : he has a good-natured looking
face, and I don’t think he wants to kill me. I know
what I will do.’

110

RATS.

The whipmaker at length lifted up the sieve, being
armed with a stick ready to kill Mr. Rat when he rushed
out. AVhat was his astonishment to see that the rat re¬
mained perfectly quiet, and, after a few moments, walk
quietly up on his arm, and look up in his face, as much
as to say, ‘ I am a poor innocent rat, and if your wife
will lock up all the good things in the cupboard, why I
must eat your nicely-prepared thongs ; rats must live as
well as whipmakers.’ The man then said, ‘ Tom, I was
going to kill you, but now I won’t ; let us be friends.
I’ll put you some bread and butter every day if you will
not take my thongs and wax, and leave the shopman’s
breakfast alone ; and — but I am afraid you will come out
once too often ; there are lots of dogs and cats about
who won’t be so kind to you as I am ; you may go now.’

He then put him down, and Mr. Rat leisurely re¬
treated to his hole. For a long time afterwards he
found his breakfast regularly placed for him at the
mouth of his hole, in return for which he, as in duty
bound, became quite tame, running about the shop, and
inquisitively turning over everything on the bench at
which his protector was at work. He would even
accompany him into the stables when he went to feed
the pony, and pick up the com as it fell from the
manger, keeping, however, a respectable distance from
the pony’s legs. His chief delight was to bask in the
warm window sill, stretching his full length to the mid¬
day sun. This unfortunate though luxurious habit
proved his destruction, for one very hot day, as he lay
at his ease taking his siesta, the dog belonging to the
bird-shop opposite espied him afar oft', and instantly
dashed at him through the window. The poor rat, who
was asleep at the time, awoke, alas ! too late to save his

RATS.

Ill

life. The cruel dog caught him, and took him into the
road, where a few sharp squeezes and shakings soon
finished him. The fatal deed being done, the murderous
dog left his bleeding victim in the dusty road, and, with
ears and tail erect, walked away as though proud of his
performance. The dog’s master, knowing the mstory
of the rat, had him stuffed, and his impaled skin, with a
silver chain round the neck, forms to this day a hand¬
some addition to the shop-front of the bird-shop in
Brompton.

Another still more remarkable instance of a tame rat
has come to my knowledge.

Some time ago the driver of a Bow and Stratford
omnibus was moving some trusses of hay in his hay-loft,
when, snugly coiled up in a corner, he found a little
miserable-looking rat, whose mamma, having carefully
tucked him up in bed, had gone out on a foraging
expedition to find something for her darling’s supper.
The little fellow being of a remarkably piebald colour,
excited the pity of the omnibus man, who took him up,
and brought him home to his family. The little chil¬
dren soon took to their new pet, and named him Ikey,
after their eldest brother, whose name was Isaac. The
little creature soon grew up, and reciprocated the kind¬
ness he had received, by excessive tameness towards
every member of the family. He was therefore allowed
to roam about the house at perfect liberty. His favourite
seat was inside the fender, or on the clean white hearth,
but, strange to say, he would never get on it unless it
was perfectly clean. On one occasion, when the good-
wife was cleaning the hearth, she gave Master Rat a
push ; up he jumped on the hob, and finding it an agree¬
able resting-place, there he stayed. As the fire grew

112

RATS.

brighter and brighter, so the hob became warmer and
warmer, till at last it became unpleasantly hot; but he
would not move from his perch till the hair on his legs
and body became quite singed with the heat.

His master had perfect control over him, and made,
for his special benefit, a little whip, with which he taught
him to sit upon his hind legs in a begging posture, jump
through a whalebone hoop, drag a small cart to which
he was harnessed, carry sticks, money, &c. in his mouth,
and perform many other amusing tricks.

The rat perfectly understood the meaning of the
whip, for whenever it was produced, and his master’s
countenance betrayed coming wrath, in fear and trem¬
bling he would scamper up the sides of the room or up
the curtains, and perch himself on the cornice ; waiting
there, till a kind word from his master brought him
down again, hopping about, and squeaking with delight.
In these gambols of mirth he would run so fast round
after his tail, that it was almost impossible to distinguish
what the whirling object was. At night he would
exhibit another cat-like habit, for he would stretch
himself out at full length before the fire on the rug,
seeming to enjoy this luxurious way of warming himself.
This love of warmth made him sometimes a troublesome
creature, for when he found the fire going out and the
room becoming cold, he would creep up into his master’s
bed, and try to insert his little body under the clothes.
He was never allowed to remain here long, but was
made to decamp as soon as his presence was discovered.
He then took up his refuge in the folds of his master’s
clothes which were placed on a chair, and of these he
was allowed to retain quiet possession till the morning.
The master became so fond of his rat that he taught

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113

him at the word of command, ‘ Come along, Ikey,’ to
jump into his greatcoat pocket in the morning, when he
went out to his daily occupation of driving the ’bus.

He did not, however, carry him all day in his pocket,
but put him in the boot of his ’bus to act as guard to
his dinner. But why did not the rat eat up his master’s
dinner? because, as said the man, ‘ I always gives him
his bellyful when I has my own breakfast before start¬
ing.’ The dinner was never touched, except when it
happened to consist of plum-pudding. This Ikey could
not resist ; his greediness overcame his sense of right,
and he invariably devoured the plums, leaving the less
dainty parts of the repast for his master. The rat
acted as a famous guard to the provisions, for whenever
any of the idle fellows who are always seen lounging
about the public-houses where the omnibuses bait, at¬
tempted to commit a theft, and run off with the bundle
out of the boot, Ikey would fly out at them from under
the straw, and effectually put to flight the robbers.

At night he was taken home in his master’s pocket,
and partook of the family supper ; but if any strangers
happened to be present, he was taken with a shy fit, and,
in spite of his hunger, secreted himself till they had
gone.

His teeth, after a time, became bad and worn out,
and the children finding this out, delighted to give him
a sort of hard cake made of treacle, called, in infant
parlance, jumbles, or brandy-snacks. Of these Ikey, in
his younger days, was very fond ; but now, on the
contrary, they gave him much trouble to masticate, and
his perseverance and rage when attacking the said
brandy-snacks caused the young folks many a hearty
laugh.

i

114

RATS.

This rat is, I believe, still alive and enjoys good
health, though, the weight of age pressing on his hoary
head, he requires many little attentions from his kind
and tender-hearted protectors.*

An amusing incident took place not long ago in the
Vauxhall Bridge Road, which a bystander afterwards
described to me. A rat-catcher, carrying a cage with
six rats in it, entered a public house:1 he unwisely left
his cage on the form outside. The folding-doors of the
tavern had no sooner closed, than a band of young
urchins who had been following at a respectful distance
came up and espied the cage, and the rats within.
k Let’s have a lark,’ says the greatest rogue of the party.

4 Look here, here are some rats in a cage, where is the
man what belongs to the rats ?’ 4 He is in the public-

house,’ exclaimed his comrades, ‘I seed him go in.*
4 Let’s let ’em out, and see if they will run,’ continued
the first speaker. 4 I’ll tell the man, I’ll tell your
mother if you do,’ exclaimed a timid, white-haired lad.

‘ I will though,’ said the other, 4 here goes.’ He accord¬
ingly opened the door of the cage, and out they all
bolted in an instant. 4 Muster, master, your rats are
gone ! ’ exclaimed the whole party assembled. Out came
the old rat-catcher with the half-emptied porter pot in
his hand, exclaiming, 4 Where, where ?’ 4 There, there,

up the street, master, run.’ The old man dashed down
the pot, and away he went up the road as hard as he
could go. The rats in the mean time made best use of
their liberty, and were scampering up the middle of the
dusty road, jumping and squeaking, with their long
tails well stretched out behind them, running in a

* Quoted by the Quarterly Review.

RATS.

115

straight line, one behind the other like horses in a well-
contested race. They did not seem inclined to listen to
the oaths and injunctions of the old man in pursuit, but
continued their course direct to a heap of bricks and
rubbish close by. Here the old man pulled up, arriving
some minutes after the rats, and then, dashing down his
cap, exclaimed, ‘ It’s no use running after ’em : if they
go at that rate they will get home before me ; however,
I dare say I shall meet with my frends another day, let
’em go and enjoy themselves while they can !’ With
these words he ran back again in pursuit of the young
miscreants, the cause of all his misfortune ; they too,
like the rats, had quicker legs than the old man, and
again he was unsuccessful in his pursuit. Like a wise
man, therefore, he picked up his empty cage and retired
again to the tap-room, to console himself for the loss of
his rats, to abuse the whole race of boys in general, and
the boys in the Vauxhall-road in particular.

There is a curious fact connected with the habits of
the rat, which warrants a closer observation on the part
of those who have the opportunity — it is the emigration
of rats. It appears that rats, like many birds, fish, &c.,
are influenced to change their abode by want of food ;
by necessity of change of temperature ; by want of a
place for incubation, where they may obtain food for
their young ; and, lastly, by their fear of man.

4 A Spanish merchant some years ago had forestalled
the market of Barcelona filberts on speculation. He
filled his warehouse with sacks of them, and refused to
sell to the retail dealers, except at such a price as
they could not afford to give. Thinking, however, that
they would be obliged to submit to his demand, rather
than not procure them for sale, he persisted in exacting

116

RATS.

his original price, and thus lost nearly all his treasure ;
for he was informed, by an early-rising friend, that he
had seen, just before sunrise, an army of rats quitting
the warehouse. He immediately went to examine his
sacks, and found them gnawed in various places, and
emptied of above half their contents, and empty shells
of filberts strewed over the floor.’

Pennant relates a story of a burglarious troop of rats,
which nearly frightened a young lady out of her wits,
by mistaking her chimney for one leading to a cheese-
room. She was suddenly wakened by a tremendous
clatter in her bed-chamber, and on looking up saw a
terrific troop of rats running about in wild disorder.
She had presence of mind enough to throw her candle¬
stick at them ( timor arma mbiistrat *), and to her great
joy she found that they speedily departed by the way
which they had entered her apartment, leaving only a
cloud of soot over the room.

Forty years ago, the house of a surgeon in Swansea
was greatly infested with rats, and he completely got
rid of them by burning off all the hair from one which
he had caught alive, and then allowing it to return
to its hole. It was said that he never afterwards saw a rat
on his premises, except the burnt sufferer, which on the
following day returned, and was caught in the same
trap from which he had been but just set at liberty. I
suppose that in their ‘ Advertiser,’ the description of a
ghost, and a notice of haunted premises, was given,
which caused the whole colony so unanimously to
decamp.

The above story reminds me of a curious nondescript

Fear finds arms.

EATS.

117

animal from the torrid zone, which was exhibited some
years ago at Yarmouth. A gentleman who, unfortu¬
nately for the showman, happened to be a naturalist,
paid his penny, and went in to see it. It turned out,
though the owner positively denied the fact, to be a
large bear, with his hair closely shaven away, except in
sundry places, which added much to the grotesque
appearance of his nude person.

Speaking of ghosts, I have heard that some years ago
there was a lone house standing by itself near a planta¬
tion, not far from Guildford. This house nobody would
ever take because it was haunted, and strange noise':
heard in it every night after dark ; several tenants tried
it but were frightened away by the noises. At last, one
individual more courageous than the rest resolved to un¬
ravel the mystery. He accordingly armed himself cap-
a-pie, and having put out the light remained sentry
in one of the rooms. Shortly he heard on the stairs
pit, pat ; a full stop, then pit, pat ; a full stop again.
The noise was repeated several times, as though some
creature, ghost or no ghost, was coming up stairs.
At last the thing, whatever it was, came close to the door
of the room where the sentry was placed and listening ;
his heart, too, chimed in with the tune pit, pat, rather
faster than it was wont to do. He flung open the door
— hurry skurry, bang ; something went down stairs with
a tremendous jump, and all over the bottom of the house
the greatest confusion, as of thousands of demons rushing
in all directions, wa> heard. This was enough for one
night. The next night our crafty sentry established him¬
self on the first landing with a heap of straw and a box
of lucifer-matches ; soon all was quiet. Up the stairs
again came the pit pat, pit pat. When the noise was

118

RATS.

close to his ambush he scraped his match and set fire to
his straw, which blazed up like a bonfire in an instant ;
and what did he see ? only a rabbit, who stood on his
hind leg’s, as much astonished as was the sentry. Both
man and beast having mutually inspected each other, the
biped hurled a sword at the quadruped, who disappeared
down stairs quicker than he came up. The noise made
was only the rabbit’s fore and hind legs hitting the
boards as he hopped from one stair to the other. The
rabbits had got into the house from the neighbouring
plantation, and had fairly frightened away, by their noc¬
turnal wanderings, the rightful owners thereof. The
more courageous sentry was rewarded for his vigil, for
he held his tongue as to the cause of the ghost. He got
the house at a reduced rent, and several capital rabbit
pies made of the ghosts’ bodies into the bargain.

That rats will emigrate we well know from expe¬
rience. My father, when Canon of Christchurch, Ox¬
ford, was usually in residence during the long vacation ;
when the young men went away, their rooms, in con¬
sequence, became bare of food for the rats, and they
all migrated to my father’s house in Tom quadrangle ;
many scores of them I myself have caught in traps at that
particular time of the year. When term commenced
again, the rats went away only to reappear at the next
vacation. The same thing happens at Westminster :
the Canons’ houses there have numerous rats in them
when the Westminster boys are gone home for their
holidays.

On the bleak and bare downs, near Isley, in Berk¬
shire, not very far from the Didcot station of the
Great Western Railway, are situated lone barns, in
which the corn gathered from the neighbouring fields is

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119

stacked. Rats have been frequently met in colonies
by shepherds at early morning, marching in long lines
direct from one barn to another. They have been
watched and seen to go direct across country in a
straight line. They generally leave one barn for
another,- when the wheat has been threshed out and
their food thus taken from them. But the curious point
is how they know where to go ; how do they find
out where there is a barn containing food for them ? do
they send out scouts, or does their instinct guide them ? I
believe it is the same marvellous instinct that guides the
hungry rats, as that which guides the swallow in her long
and wearisome journey to warmer climates, or impels the
shoals of herrings and sprats to visit our shores. A
medical gentleman, who lived in the neighbourhood
of these downs, tells me that on one occasion prepara¬
tions were made to ferret and destroy all the rats in a
barn near Weston. The next morning the company
came — ferrets, dogs, big sticks, and all — but not a rat
could be found. In vain the ferrets poked in and out of
the holes ; in vain the dogs routed under the straw ; in
vain the men brandished their sticks; the rats were all
gone, not one solitary individual remained. We can but
conclude that, from former experience, some of the patri¬
archs among the rats, observing the preparations made,
had advised a general change of quarters, and their ad¬
vice had been taken by the whole colony. Curiously
enough, my friend afterwards ascertained from a labourer
that he had met a regiment of rats very early in the
morning of the day the hunt was to have taken place in
the Weston barn, marching along Chilton bottom to¬
wards another barn situated some distance away. Some
years ago a gentleman driving in a gig, about three

120

RATS.

o’clock one fine summer’s morning, met, upon Kingston
Bridge, a colony of rats on the march. He pulled up, and
the rats filed off to the right and left, taking not the
least notice of either him or the gig.

Though not considered a delicacy by English palates,
the rat, nevertheless, used to afford a dainty dish to the
negro slaves of Jamaica. The slave-masters did not often
ruin themselves by long butchers’ bills for meat for their
living property ; so that the poor wretches were obliged
to set their brains to work to procure animal food for
their craving appetites. They caught and afterwards
cooked the rats in the following way, as described by
the Rev. B. Vernon, in his ‘ Early Recollections of
Jamaica.’

He writes as follows : i But to return to Inkle (a na¬
tive of Congo, in Africa, who was employed as a watch¬
man over a coco piece, or yam-ground). His larder did
not afford many delicacies, and when the continuance of
a storm detained me beyond the usual hour of an early
dinner, I have enjoyed a black coco, or part of a roasted
yam, at his expense, and to his apparent gratification ;
which latter was not diminished, perhaps, by the cer¬
tainty of having such favours returned in kind ; for I
blush not to avow, that I carried to him many a salt
shad or herring to season his vegetable diet.

‘ The most pressing case of hunger never carried me
so far beyond the prejudices of civilised life as to induce
me to partake of roasted rat, in which he delighted. His
method of catching and of cooking this vermin deserves
notice. It were, perhaps, more easy for me to make,
than to describe, his simple but efficient trap. It con¬
sisted of a small conical basket, to which was fastened
in the wicker work outside (running from the apex to

<

RATS.

121

the open mouth), a tough and elastic lance-wood stick,
three or four feet long, with a strong twine, manufac¬
tured by himself from the bark of a tree, attached to the
further and smaller end. In order to set the trap, the
stick was bent into a bow ; a running noose being
formed at the end of the twine, and passed through an
aperture left in the edge of the basket for the purpose.
This noose was carefully spread out round the inner
edge, and concealed under the rim. Below the noose a
separate piece of twine was fixed, drawn through the
basket twice, so as to cross at right angles, and firmly
secured on the outside. In order to reach the bait,
which was deposited at the apex, the rat must gnaw
through these cross strings. As soon as they gave way,
the elasticity of the bow suddenly and tightly drew the
noose, and the rat was strangled. These traps were
laid upon the ground, and seldom failed to secure the
prize, which was prepared for the table in the following
primitive manner. After carefully cleaning the inside
and cutting off the tail, the body was impaled on a long
wooden skewer, and turned briskly round over a fierce
fire, until the hair was completely burnt ; it was then
scraped with a sharp piece of wood, until free from fur,
and of a rich, toasty, brown colour ; and finally, the end
of the skewer was stuck into the ground, inclining
towards the fire, where it remained sometimes for hours,
with an occasional change of position, until it became
quite dry and crisp, and thus ready for the evening meal.
When I expressed surprise that he could eat such food,
Inkle would reply with a merry grin, uKi? nyoung,
massa, ratta sweet, hearee ? If nyoung inassa nyam
ratta one time, no more him nyam ratta ebery day,
hearee ?” — The French are right who say, “ Ce n’est quo

122

RATS,

le Dremier pas qui coute but that “ premier pas ” in
rat-eating I could never take.

‘ Poor Inkle’s ingenuity in procuring, and nfterwards
preparing, his repast, fully illustrates the truth of the
saying,

“ Ingem inventor venter.” * *

The natives in India who cut grass for the officers’
horses are very fond of rats when they can get them :
they singe and eat them as did Inkle.

In that marvellous country, China, where every inch
of ground is cultivated, and every bit of refuse of all
sorts and kinds, even to the hair collected and sold by
the barbers who shave the pate of John Chinaman, is
collected for manure in order to grow food for the
millions of starving wretches, almost everything that
can be cooked is eaten up — to rats, and dogs, and mol-
lusks. I have seen a dried rat bought in the market
of a Chinese town. It has been split down the centre,
powdered with some white substance, and pressed under
some heavy weight, as is evident from its shape, its ap¬
pearance being very much like that of the common
English haddock. These John Chinaman buys, soaks in
water, and then dresses 4 more suo’ — boils, roasts, or fries.
In reference to the subject of using human hair for
manure, as I was being operated on by a celebrated
London barber he informed me, that he was obliged
to burn the cuttings of the hair to get rid of the mess
out of his shop ; but when he was an apprentice at a
town in Huntingdonshire, he was allowed the sweepings
of the shop as a perquisite, and that he sold it at six¬
pence per bushel to a neighbouring farmer. The farmer

* The empty stomach the mother of invention.

HATS.

123

told him that the places where he nad placed the hair
did not require manure for three years afterwards. He
was not aware that barbers ever sold hair-cuttings in
London for manure : he did not think it would pay,
because it required the cuttings of so many people to get
a bushel. In the country the customers came in with
long locks, which were cropped off pretty close, but in
London the customers do not have much hair cut off at
a time.

In a penny exhibition at a fair, I went in to see some
‘ sea lions ’ — two beautiful little seals — and some ‘ India-
rubber dogs.’ The seals were in very good condition
and obedient to the word of command. At the word of
command, ‘Lay on your back, Jemmy,’ Jemmy turned
himself gracefully into the position ordered, and looked
up at his master with a look of affectionate obedience.
Jack’s (the other seal) turn came next. ‘ Roast the pig,
Jack,’ was the word of command ; immediately Jack
rolled himself round and round in the water, staying
always in the same place in his tub, so fast that it was
quite impossible to make out his form. The per¬
formance being concluded each received a bit of fish.
I am now sorry that I did not buy a seal that was
once offered to me in the neighbourhood of the docks
for ten shillings. The poor seal was in a tub, and looked
moribund ; his head too, strange to say, was covered with
a very peculiar species of tick, such as i never saw
before nor since. Thinking the seal would not live long
enough to get as far as Westminster, I did not buy him.
I afterwards heard that a Jew bought him for five
shillings, cured him, and sold him at a considerable profit.

But the c India-rubber dogs these were three dogs
looking* like a cross between an Italian greyhound — -

124

RATS.

which by-the-by has been aptly defined by a French¬
man as ‘ un chien sans un profession ’* — and a terrier;
hair they had none; they looked like scalded black pigs,
for their skin was as black as a hat, firm yet exceed¬
ingly elastic to the touch, giving one the idea of India-
rubber — hence the showman’s name for them. This
man informed us that his dogs were brought from
China, and that they were of the kind eaten by the
Chinese. Were I compelled to eat a dog, I would
certainly choose this kind in preference to a rough,
hairy, dissipated-looking English terrier.

In another show I inspected a ‘ Californian cock.’ It
was a fine specimen of the English cock, upon which
John Hunter’s famous experiment had been repeated —
the spur had been cut off the leg and implanted in the
comb ; strange though it may seem, yet it is true, that
the spur will actually take root and grow in its new
place. Let the sceptic go and inspect for himself at
the Royal College of Surgeons, London, two or three
heads so treated. In the ‘ Californian cock,’ this opera¬
tion had been performed, and a very successful one it
had been ; for the spur had not only taken root, but had
actually grown ; taking the form of a corkscrew, and
representing two turns and a half of the screw.

Hearing that I was interested in rats, Mr. Rupert
Jones kindly sent me an extract from a French news¬
paper, of which the following is a translation. It
appears from it that there can be lawsuits about rats, as
well as about other matters, and also that the Zouaves
perform the Hunterian experiment of transplanting
one part of an animal’s body on to another. The story
runs thus :

A dog without a profession.

RATS.

125

Pliny, Buffon, and Lacepede have made us acquainted
with the races of animals which inhabit the two hemi¬
spheres, but none of these savants, any more than the
naturalists their successors, have made mention of the
4 trumpet-rat/ and a search for it among the antediluvian
animals discovered by science will be equally unsuccess¬
ful. The 4 trumpet-rat ’ is modern ; its existence dates
from the time the Zouaves were in Africa. The action
at law brought by M. Triguel against Girome, a re¬
tired Zouave (ancient Zouave), makes us believe that
this is the animal in question.

The Plaintiff. 4 Gentlemen, this individual has cheated
me out of a hundred francs (4k), and has, at the same
time, wilfully abused my confidence. Pie knows that I
am much interested in geology, antiquities, natural
sciences. I have collections of fossils, of medals, of
shells, of rare animals, of curious plants. One day he
called upon me, and said, 4 Sir, I have a kind of animal
which has never been mentioned by any naturalist*’
4 What is it, Sir ?’ 4 It is 44 the trumpet-rat.” ’ 4 What

do you call the trumpet-rat ?’ 4 Sir, as the name indicates,
it is a rat which has a trumpet ?’ 4 Where is it ? ’ 4 On his
nose like a rhinoceros.’ ‘And you have it alive ?’ 4 Alive
and well ; if you wish to see it, you have only to come to
my house.’ 4 Directly ; come along.’

4 1 was very anxious to see this strange animal. We
arrive at his house, and he shows me in a cage an
enormous rat, very lively and in good condition, and
which really had on its nose a sort of slender excrescence
about two centimetres long (two-thirds of an inch),
covered with hair like the body of the animal, with,
vertebrae in it, and, a most extraordinary thing, larger
at the summit than at the base, the contrary to what it

126

RATS.

ought to be in the usual course of things. I ask to
examine this phenomenon ; he puts it in my hand, and
holds its paws and head that I might examine at my ease
this extraordinary trumpet. I ask him if it were not a
dupe, and a mystification, and to convince myself I take
a pin and force it into the trumpet. The animal cried
out, winced, and a drop of blood came from the prick.
The experiment was conclusive — it was really a trumpet
forming a part of the rat.

4 I wonder. I ask this man if he would sell his rat.
He answers in the affirmative. I ask his price. Fifty
francs. I pay it without any bargaining, and I bring the
animal home. I invite my friends and servants to see it,
the cry of admiration was universal — I was enchanted.

4 Some one says to me, 4 You ought to procure a female
(this was a male). I had thought of that, but having
seen but one rat at the house of the person who sold it
to me, I concluded that he had no more. I determined,
therefore, to go directly to see, and I ask him if it were
possible to get a female. 4 Nothing easier,’ he answered
me ; 4 1 have written to Africa, and they have sent me
many trumpet-rats, of which I have two females.’ With
these words, he brings out a cage full of rats like that
which he had sold me. He chooses me a female, for
which I pay him fifty francs (21.). I carry it off
more enchanted than ever. Some months afterwards
the female has young : I look at them, they had not
trumpets. I say to myself, 4 Without doubt they will
sprout hereafter like the elephants’ tusks.’ I wait one
month, two months, six months ; every day I look at
the nose of my rats, but the trumpet never appeared.

4 In a house where I go frequently I make the ac¬
quaintance of an officer who had served a long time in

RATS.

127

Africa. ‘ Tell me,’ I says to him one day — ‘you ha\ e been
in Africa — do you know the trumpet-rats ?’ ‘ Perfectly,’
he answers me. ‘ Ah ! then you can inform me.’ I then
tell him my story. Then this gentleman began to
laugh, as though his sides would split. I say to myself,
‘ Certainly then I have been duped.’ When he was calm
I beg him to explain the motive of his hilarity. Then
he tells me what follows : The trumpet-rat, he tells me,
is not a supernatural thing, it is an invention due to the
leisure moments of the Zouaves. This is how they
make them : you take two rats ; you tie their paws firmly
on a board, the nose of one close to the end of the tail
of the other ; with a pen-knife or a lancet you make an
incision into the nose of the rat which is hindermost,
and you graft the tail of the first into the nose ; you tie
firmly the muzzle to the tail, and you leave the two
rats in this position for forty-eight hours. At the end of
the time the union has taken place, and the two parts
are grown together ; then you cut off the tail of the rat
which is in front to the required length, and let him
go, but still keep the other tied to the board but with
his head loose, and you give him something to eat.
At the end of a month or more the wound is perfectly
healed, and the eyes of the most curious scrutators
would not see a trace of the grafting. This is what these
Zouaves do ; the rats have no trumpet, you have been
deceived,’ (les rats n’ont pas de trompe ; vous avez
ete trompe).

‘ On the part of the defendant, it was urged that he
had certainly made up the rats as has been stated, but
he affirms that he had not sold them to the plaintiff as
rats ‘ born ’ with a trumpet.

The President. ‘ Is this true, M. Triamel ?’

128

RATS.

31. Triguel. i You understand, Sir, after the experiment
which I made with the prick of the pin, which bled and
made the animal cry, I ought to believe that the trumpet
wras natural.’

The President. 4 Then the defendant told you that
it was a particular kind of rat ? ’

The Plaintiff. i Yes, without doubt/

The Defendant. ‘ In fact — it is a particular kind of
rat.’

Verdict for the Zouave — the trumpet-rat maker.’

( Gaz . des Trib.)

To my mind this story seems almost impossible ; not
that the tail of one rat would not grow on to the nose of
another, for I believe it would, were the operatio.i
properly performed ; but I confess that if I were told t >
tie a rat down in such a manner that he could not
move for eight and forty hours, I should express my in¬
ability so to do.

Rat-eating is not confined to China alone. Mr. Black-
well, of Bristol, informs me, that when a French schooner
was windbound at Hale in Cornwall, not very long ago,
the sailors cleared the country round of rats and snails ;
they pouched and scalded the rats, and then hung them
up by dozens, looking beautifully white, on the yard¬
arms to dry.

Poor Dr. Kane was seriously troubled with rats in
his North Pole expedition, but afterwards they served
him a good turn. He writes : ‘ We have been terribly
annoyed by rats ; some days ago we made a brave effort
to smoke them out with the vilest imaginable compound
of vapours — brimstone, burnt leather, and arsenic; and
we spent a cold night on deck in consequence, and to
give the experiment fair play, but they recovered the

RATS.

129

fumigation. We now determined to dose them with
carbonic acid gas : Dr. Hayes burnt a quantity of char¬
coal, and we shut down the hatches, after pasting up
every fissure that communicated aft. They nearly set
the ship on fire during this operation ; but, however, the
next day, upon inspecting the scene of our operations, we
found twenty-eight well-fed rats of all varieties of age.’
Afterwards, when the crew were starving, the rats came
in as an article of food, and Dr. Kane himself says : —

£ Another article of diet less inviting at first, but
which I found more innocuous [than bears’ liver], was
the rat. We had failed to exterminate the animal by
our varied and perilous efforts of the year before, and
a well-justified fear forbade our renewing the crusade.
It was marvellous, in a region apparently so unfavour¬
able to reproduction, what a perfect warren we soon had
on board. Their impudence and address increased
with their numbers ; it became impossible to stow any¬
thing below decks. Furs, woollens, shoes, specimens of
natural history, everything we disliked to lose, however
little valuable to them, was gnawed into and destroyed.
They harboured among the men’s bedding in the fore¬
castle, and showed such boldness and dexterity in
dodging missiles that they were tolerated at last as in¬
evitable nuisances. Before the winter ended I avenged
our griefs, by decimating them for my private table.
If I was asked what, after darkness, and cold, and scurvy,
are the three besetting curses of our Arctic sojourn, I
should say rats, rats, rats.

‘ Before I pass from these intrepid and pertinacious
visitors, let me add that, on the whole, I am personally
much their debtor. Through the long winter night,
Hans used to beguile his lonely hours of watch by

K

130

RATS.

shooting them with the bow and arrow. The repug«
nance of my associates to share with me the table
luxury of “ such small deer ” gave me the frequent
advantage of a fresh-meat soup, which contributed no
doubt to my comparative immunity from scurvy.’
Again he writes : ( Our diet will be only a stock of meat
biscuit, to which I shall add for myself a few rats
chopped up, and frozen into tallow balls.’

When that gallant sailor Rear-Admiral Beaufort was
making a cruise in H.M.S. i Woolwich,’ his ship was
swarmed with rats. He has kindly informed me that the
boys amused themselves by catching them with cane
spears, armed with needle points, and they killed scores
at a hunt. Determined to get over the silly prejudice
against such animals, as they fed on his peas and flour,
he ordered those that were killed to be brought to his
steward for selection, and he reports that the old grizly
ones were very strong, but that spatchcocked and
broiled, with plenty of salt and pepper, the head
quarters were really not bad ; but prejudice was stronger
even than rats, and no one, either young or old, could
get down a mouthful without a long face. One morning
the admiral was awoke by the cold nose of a rat licking
his lips. The rat was chased, and wedged itself so firmly
between the timbers that the ship’s carpenter had ac¬
tually to cut away a considerable portion of one of the
timbers to get at him ; he then got hold of him, but the
rat wisely slipt his tail, and again escaped ; but at last
the armourer’s long-handled pincers brought him out.

When Captain Inglefield went to the North Pole in the
ship 4 Phoenix,’ in the year 1853, my sister gave him three
white pet rats which were quite tame. These three rats
went to the North Pole in a cage specially provided for

RATS.

131

them, and became quite favourites on board. One of
them died of an abscess in the back, the second was
given away to one of the officers belonging to a ship
that was at Melville Island, and the third came back to
England sound and well, and when I last heard of it, it
was still alive.

A charming young lady was kind enough to give me
the particulars of her pet dove, who is a great Arctic
voyager. This tender bird has been twice to the Nort h
Pole, and spent the summers of 1853-54 there on board
Captain Inglefield’s ship the ‘ Phoenix.’ She then re¬
mained with Captain Inglefield in the ‘Sidon,’ in the Black
Sea. Not only is this dove a great traveller, but she is a
fighting dove as well, for she was present at the bombard¬
ment of Sebastopol, and her cage was knocked to pieces
by a shot. Her oidy other adventure was making herself
ill by eating some strange berries, but she recovered after
the administration of an emetic. This bird has picked
up wisdom in her travels, and now considers herself a
veteran bird, and entitled to take liberties. When a
stranger comes into the room, she Hies, as often as she
can get out of her cage, on to his head, or on to the
nearest corner of the table or floor ; then she stands at
his feet, and commences the funniest succession of
jerks and bows, cooing loudly and hoarsely all the time.
A few weeks after she came home from the North
Pole, an officer of the ship happening to call upon her
mistress, she manifested the utmost impatience to get
out of the cage even when she only heard his voice,
but the moment she saw him she flew direct into
the breast of his coat, where she had been accus¬
tomed to nestle in the homeward voyage. She was
scarcely ever in her cage on board ship, as she was

132

RATS.

too tame to fly away. Captain Inglefield took a large
quantity of wheat and canary-seed and gravel with him
on each voyage, as the dove’s provision.

Rats are terrible plagues on board ships. There is an
improvement upon the old plan of killing them by
means of smoke. A rat is not so easily killed by
stinking vapours, as remarked above. The new plan, as
I have been told, is to take the infected ship alongside a
steamer, and having stuffed up every crack, and door,
and window, to introduce a leather hose ; steam is then
forced down the hose into the ship ; the rats can’t stand
this ; they get parboiled, and the cockroaches with
them ; the ship is thus thoroughly freed from all its
live stock. I have it on the authority of Captain Ship-
ton, R.N., that in the American war, it was no uncom¬
mon thing to get hold of a lot of coasting vessels, and
in order to get rid of the trouble of them, after taking
the crews out, the captors set fire to them, and then
hundreds of rats were seen scudding up the rigging, not
knowing which death was least disagreeable — drowning
or burning.

A friend who has travelled much, tells me than when
off the Cape of Good Hope a heavy sea struck the ship
he was in, and lifting up the long boat from her lashings,
knocked her against the bulwarks, and made a great
hole in her side. This long boat was the receptacle for
all sorts of lumber, and had been taken possession of by
a colony of rats. At the moment of concussion, the
rats retired into the innermost crevices of the lumber.
As the boat was now of no further use, it was deter¬
mined that she should be thrown overboard ; tackle
was therefore fitted, and she was hoisted up, and
dropped plump into the raging sea. The scene of con-

RATS.

133

fusion amongst the rats, who discovered too late their
fate to be committed to the deep, was indescribable.
The carpenter had bored a hole in the bottom of the boat,
as sailors do not like that anything they throw overboard
should be picked up ; and as the boat began to fill, the
rats came nearer and nearer to the surface of the sea,
till at last they were entirely deserted by their faithless
boat, and obliged to swim about, as best they might ;
but this did not last long, a heavy sea was on, and a
great wave came thundering along ; the half-drowned
rats were borne to the top of it, and then were lost in
the watery valley the other side.

There is a third kind of rat, which is very generally
distributed throughout England, whose personal appear¬
ance is well known to most anglers ; it is the 6 water-
rat,’ or, as it is sometimes called, the ‘ water-vole.’
This little animal may be considered as the representa¬
tive of the beaver (many years extinct) in the British
isles. He is entirely aquatic in his habits, and is never
seen except by the water-side. Upon examining his
anatomy we shall find that he, too, is constructed with
reference to the mode of life he is destined to follow.
His neck is very short, his head rounded and convex
above, to enable him to swim fast through the water.
His fur is almost waterproof, being composed of two
sets of hairs, some long and projecting, others short and
thickly set, together forming a close silky pile, which
effectually resists the entrance of the water, and serves
its owner in the place of a very warm, waterproof great¬
coat. I have often seen the water-rat swimming under
water, and have frequently observed that he appears to
be surrounded by a case of air, in fact, looks like a
large air-bubble swimming along. This effect is pro-

134

RATS.

duced, I imagine, by means of the first set of hairs
above mentioned. The air which he takes down with
him on plunging in, would naturally escape were it not
that it is delayed by adhering to these long quasi reser¬
voirs, and thus renders the whole body more buoyant
than it otherwise would be. The tail in the house-rat,
as we have above mentioned, serves as an organ of ba¬
lancing and prehension ; in the water-rat it is so modi¬
fied as to become a sort of rudder and paddle ; it is much
rounder and more taper, being slightly compressed
towards the tip, to afford as much resistance as possible
to the water ; acting, in fact, like the broad end of the
oar, as used by fishermen in propelling their boat from
its stern end.

In the house-rat the ears are long and projecting,
so placed as to catch the smallest sound. What would
be the use of such ears to the water-rat? they would
only be in his way ; accordingly we find the following
beautiful modification and adaptation of means to ends.
The external ears are short, and rounded, and entirely
concealed in the fur , overlapped, moreover, externally
with extremely soft hairs. The hair of the rat under
the microscope is a most beautiful object ; it looks like
a number of small kidney-beans placed side by side in a
row inside a tube. As though these hairs were not suf¬
ficient protection against the entrance of the water, the
meatus, or aperture of the ear, is capable of being
closed up entirely by a thin angular operculum. This
admirably-designed curtain the rat is enabled, when he
plunges below the water, entirely to draw across the
passage of the ear, and completely exclude the element in
which he swims. The water-rat never comes near the
abode of men, water-mills excepted ; he prefers living

RATS.

135

bv the sides of canals and ponds, and in the water-mea¬
dows, forming a secure retreat for himself in the banks
in case of need. The holes and tortuous burrows he
excavates are, beyond description, complicated. Fre¬
quently a large portion of the bank by the side of
the river Itchen, in Hampshire, has given way under
my feet, completely undermined by the rats. In this
way much damage is done to the dams and banks, on
whose security and firmness much valuable property de¬
pends. Aware that he has many enemies, and that
flight is his only chance for life, the water-rat has
not made a 1 single ’ entrance to his spacious habitation,
but, being amphibious, finds it positively necessary
to have two portals, one under water, the other by
the side of the bank, or on the top of the bank, and
on this account it is very difficult indeed to catch him.
When a boy at Winchester, I used often to go out
into the water-meadows to hunt rats. Having marked
them to their holes, sharp stakes were thrust into
the soft grassy banks, which generally dislodged the
quarry. He would first come up to his land-hole to
see if the field were clear, if not, rush out into the
water through his aquatic portal, and swim away as
quietly as he could. The great art was at this moment
to slip over his head, as he swam, a thin loop of brass wire
tied to the end of a long stick, and whisk him out of his
native element, to become a prey to the scholars on the
bank, by some of whom water-rats’ skins were collected
on account of their beauty and silk-like softness.
When hunting about a stream under a viaduct at Han-
well, for creatures for a vivarium, a boy told me that
once he saw a big water-rat, as he thought, enter a hole.
He put his hand up and caught it, but the creature bit

136

RATS.

him severely. It turned out to be, not a water-rat, but
a polecat. lie sold it in the village ; but his hand was
so bad that he was obliged to go to the doctor, and the
doctor’s bill came to more than he got for the polecat..
I asked him if he ever caught any more. ‘ No,’
says he, ‘ I be afeard on ’em.’

The water-rats are nocturnal in their habits, and prefer
coming out at night for their food, which is entirely
vegetable. They are, however, often tempted out on a
fine day, and I have watched them for hours feeding on
a large patch of floating weed on the river Itchen, near
a place well known to Wykehamists as the ‘ Water-
man’s-hut,5 and most amusing were their gambols and
petty disputes about some dainty morsel of cabbage or
potato-skin. I had some difficulty in obtaining water-
rats for dissection from Islip, near Oxford ; Mr. Blick,
my friend, who resides there, informing me that the man
who leases the river thereabouts destroys all the water-
rats he can, as they eat up his young osiers, which he
sells to make baskets, &c.

Water-rats ‘ are said ’ to eat the eggs of the moor-hen,
and the poor bird has no defence against its enemy.
The rat himself gets eaten sometimes by a large and hun¬
gry pike, who will snap him up as he swims across the
water. Herons, too, will eat him. Mr. G. Berkeley
writes : ‘In a small stream inland I have caught many
herons in hard weather, laying the bait — a little eel, or
the tail only of a larger one, with a hook in it — so that
it would gently play in the stream on the shallow which
the herons used in search of the little trout. In the
maw of one heron so caught were seven small trout, a
thrush, and a mouse. I once killed a heron with a
large water-rat in his belly, which effectually prevented

EATS.

137

my dressing them again at table, though the heron, in
former days, was considered a princely delicacy.’ The
heron’s bill is a most formidable, dagger-like weapon.
I once very nearly got a severe peck from a bittern,
which has a similar bill, in Leadenhall Market ; it was in
a cage, and darted its bill at my eyes just as I was
passing. I have seen, in a museum at Cambridge, the
bill of a heron mounted on a handle brought from some
savage country. It makes a formidable, sharp-pointed,
conical weapon, very like a bayonet in shape, when
both portions of the bill are tied together. Herons
stand motionless in the water when fishing ; they do not
go after the fish, but wait for the fish to come to them.
By some it is supposed that there is a peculiar scent in
the heron’s legs which attracts the fish, and with this
idea it is the custom in some ‘countries (I heard of it in
Oxfordshire) to cut off the legs of a heron and obtain
from them the oil, which is used by the fisherman to
anoint his bait. I should be inclined to doubt its
efficacy. The heron has a very peculiar and beautiful
structure in its neck, which enables it cu turn its head
almost at right angles to its neck. It is a peculiar
formation in the junction of one of the neck-bones with
its neighbour. In pictures of hawking we generally
see a heron represented with its bill pointed directly
upwards from its back, so as to transfix the hawk who
is about to pounce down upon it from above. It is this
peculiarly beautiful construction of the neck-bones which
enables it to do so.

My friend, Mr. Bush, of Clapham, tells me he once
saw a heron make good use of his powerful neck. He
had a pugnacious fighting- cock, which attacked every¬
thing he saw. One day the cock caught sight of tire

138

RATS.

heron, and rushed at him with outstretched neck and
drooping wings. The heron could not make him out at
all, his great long legs keeping his body out of the way
of the cock’s spurs. The cock made a second charge,
but this time the heron was ready for him. He placed
his long neck quite back on his body, so that his head
was over his tail feathers. Mr. Cock advanced bravely :
just when he was within reach, the heron let fly his neck
and head with the power of a steel spring, and caught
the cock’s body as he was coming onward. Lucky it
was for the latter that he was not nearer, or the heron’s
bill would have gone through him. The cock had had
a lesson ; he never molested the heron again, and slunk
out of the way when he saw him coming.

Herons have on one claw of each leg a serrated edge
of horn, like a small- tooth comb. The use of this comb
has been generally stated to be to enable the bird to
hold the fish he catches ; but a heron does not use his
feet as organs of prehension as a hawk does. The more
probable use of it is, as observed and made out by Mr.
Bush. In a wood near Witney, in Oxfordshire, called
Tarwood, of fox-hunting notoriety, there are, or there
used to be, some herons’ nests ; from these nests Mr.
Bush procured some young birds. Under the feathers
of the heron is a layer of a sort of mealy down, which, I
imagine, acts as a greatcoat for the bird when standing
out in the cold, waiting for the fish by the side of the
water. When Mr. Bush’s birds pruned and cleaned
themselves with their bills, he observed that this mealy
down adhered to their bills. To get rid of it they used
the comb of the claw, given them for that purpose,
always moving it from the tip towards the base of the
bill, and not in the reverse direction. They also used

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139

it to clean off the slime which adhered to their bills
after they had eaten an eel or a slimy fish. The gannet,,
or solan goose, has its middle claw serrated or combed,
and Mr. Montagu remarks on this point : ‘ The serrated
middle claw cannot be indicative of its habits, since
many land birds are equally furnished with a similar
formation, the use of which has never been discovered.’
I consider, therefore, that Mr. Bush’s observations on
its real use, viz., to act as a comb to clean the plumage
of its owner, to be important, if not quite original.
We see a similar comb on the foot of the night-jar.
This bird has bristles on each side of its bill, to which
the scales of the night-moths, on which he feeds, will
adhere. With the comb on his foot he can clean these
his whiskers after a night’s hunting.

Another instance of a serrated claw is to be found in
the capercailzie, or cock of the wood. Here, however,
we find all the claws on each foot armed with stout
whalebone-like projections. The use of these, unlike
the former cases, does not refer to the cleanliness of the
possessor, but the combs are given him as a means of
supporting his heavy body on the snow, which for many
months in the year covers the regions he inhabits.
Thus to those who observe, and reason upon what they
observe, arises the great and delightful privilege of
seeing, in apparent trivial matters, proof of the benefi¬
cence of the Creator towards his creatures.

The water-rat is probably the original rat of Great
Britain, the black rat even being an intruder. The
teeth of the water-rat were found in abundance by my
father, the late Dean of Westminster, in the cave at
Kirkdale, and were figured by him in his ‘ Reliquiae
Diluvianae,’ published 1824. He savs : ‘But the teeth

140

RATS.

which occur perhaps in greatest abundance are those of
the water-rat, for in almost every specimen I have
collected or seen of the osseous breccia there are teeth
or broken fragments of all the larger bones. These
rats may be supposed to have abounded on the edge of
the lake which I have shown probably existed in this
neighbourhood.’ This Kirkdale cave was proved be¬
yond a doubt to have been the den of hyaenas, who, in
times long antecedent to the appearance of man upon
the face of this planet, inhabited this Yorkshire cave,
and made it their head-quarters, whence they started on
their foraging expeditions. Arguing on this subject,
the Dean goes on to say : ‘ Though the idea of hyaenas
eating rats may appear ridiculous, it is consistent with
the omnivorous appetite of modern hyaenas, and with
the fact quoted from Johnson, that they feed on small
animals as well as carrion and bones. Nor is the dis¬
proportion in size of the animal to that of its prey
greater than that of wolves and foxes, which are sup¬
posed by Captain Parry to feed chiefly on mice during
the long winters of Melville Island. Hearne, in his
“ Journey to the Northern Ocean,” mentions the fact
“of a hill called Grizzle Bear Hill, being deeply fur¬
rowed and turned over like ploughed land by bears
in search of ground squirrels, and perhaps mice, which
constitute a favourite part of their food.” If bears
eat mice, why should not hyaenas eat rats P and in mas¬
ticating the bodies of these small animals with their
coarse conical teeth, many bones and fragments of bones
would be pressed outwards through their lips and fall
neglected to the ground.’ In the copy of the ‘ Re¬
liquiae ’ which is in my possession, and which is inter¬
larded with notes and letters on the subjects mentioned

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141

in the book, I find, at the page whence the foregoing
passage has been quoted, the following important note
in MS., written by my mother, but evidently at my
father’s dictation.

‘ On my presenting a living house-rat to a Cape
hyaena in London,* one evening at its usual feeding¬
time, the hyaena refused to touch it, but on a subsequent
occasion I presented it with a rat again when it had not
been fed for thirty-six hours; the rat was soon devoured.
In fifteen or sixteen minutes after, the hyaena became
sick, vomited up the skin and bones of the rat, together
with fragments of other bones which it had swallowed
immediately after the rat. This experiment explains the
presence of so many bones and teeth of rats in the cave
of Kirkdale. They had probably been swallowed and
vomited up again on the floor of the den. Had they
continued in the stomach they would have been digested
and reduced to the state of album grcecum. We know
that cats and dogs usually become sick if they swallow
the skin of a rat.’

Wishing to know if there were any anatomical differ¬
ence between the Kirkdale rat and the modern water-
vole, I consulted Professor Owen’s valuable work on
British fossil mammalia, published many years after the
4 Reliquiae the following passage gave me the required
answer. 1 The like antiquity of another and smaller
rodent of the beaver family still existing in most of our
British rivers and smaller streams and ditches, is more
abundantly testified by the numerous fossils of a species
ofarvicola, which I have been unable satisfactorily to dis-

* This was Billy, the celebrated, hysena, who lived just a
quarter of a century in this metropolis, first at Exeter Change
and afterwards at the Surrey Gardens.

142

RATS.

tinguish from the arvicola amphibia, or common 'water-
rat.’ Dr. Buckland appears to have been the first to
have noticed the fossil arvicolse in British localities, in
his ‘ Reliquiae Diluvianae.’

As in the modern day the rats in the London ware¬
houses gnaw the ivory, so in the ancient caves did the
rats gnaw the bones which lay about. Dr. Buckland
found marks of teeth upon the ulna of a wolf and the
tibia of a horse in one of the caves at Oreston.

A Wykehamist friend ascertained most practically that
the water-rat was a nocturnal animal. He was out late
one night fishing for trout — for the largest fish always
feed at that time — and had cast his line across the river.
In a few moments he felt a tug and a jerk, as though
the fly had been taken by a large fish ; accordingly he
played his line in the most scientific and judicious man¬
ner, and had unwonted sport with his supposed five-pound
trout. He landed it, and put down his hand to grasp
it : instead, however, of encountering the scales of a
fish, he received a severe bite on the fingers. Certain,
from this proof, that if it were a fish it must be of a
very extraordinary breed, he dropped the net, and ran
off to the £ waterman’s hut ’ for a lantern. On return¬
ing to examine his capture, he found coiled up in a
most dreadful tangle of his best silk-worm gut, and
his best-made flies, a large water-rat. The rat must
have been unsuspiciously swimming along, when the
line happened to drop directly over him. One of the
hooks had caught in his fur, and had given a jerk to the
rod, which the fisherman had mistaken for a trout
rising, and had naturally struck the supposed fish,
thereby firmly fixing the sharp-pointed hook into the
body of the unfortunate rat, who must have been greatly

RATS.

143

surprised at being so suddenly and unceremoniously
dragged to the shore.

It has been said, and with much truth, that it is an
easier task to learn a proposition of Euclid than to catch
a rat. The love of self-preservation is particularly de¬
veloped in this beast, and being surrounded by enemies,
he becomes very suspicious and ever on his guard
against treachery. The brain of the rat, as stated
in the ‘ Quarterly Review,’ is small in proportion to
its size. I do not agree with this statement, for I
have examined the brains of many rats, and find that
though the head appears small externally, yet it
contains a large brain. Moreover, if a section be
made of the brain, I find that the grey matter (the
thinking portion of the brain) is highly developed.
The clever tricks, therefore, that we hear of rats avoid¬
ing poison and traps are accounted for ; their natural
cunning arising from their mental faculties (if I may
use the expression) being of a high order, amounting
more to reasoning than to instinct.

To exterminate rats entirely (even if it were desirable
in a sanitary point of view) I believe to be quite impos¬
sible. We can only keep their race in check, and make
them confine their ravages to our leavings. They can
be destroyed principally in three ways, viz., by traps, by
poison, and by animals naturally their enemies, such as
dogs and ferrets. Among poisons may be mentioned phos¬
phorus (a good receipt for preparing which is given in
a little book entitled 4 The Pests of the Farm’), arsenic,
corrosive sublimate, strychnia, &c. But I should not
recommend any poison to be used in a dwelling-house,
because the rat’s natural instinct is to die in privacy, if
he can, and he generally, when poisoned, manages to

144

RATS.

get into a hole ; there his body remains, and, as I know
from personal experience, a dead rat in a room is by no
means a pleasant subject, the odour proceeding therefrom
being none of the nicest.

The best way, I believe, to get rid of rats is, as an
old rat-catcher said to me, to ‘ make the place too hot
to hold them.’ As we have seen, they will migrate in
bodies. To catch single individuals is no use, unless
there be an outlying rat about the premises ; our efforts
must therefore be directed to call their habit of migration
into play and make them go off in a body. To produce
this effect it is a good plan to tar their holes well, or to
do as Mr. Water ton did, tar a single rat and let him
run : he will cover the sides of the runs with tar. Rats
cannot bear tar, it sticks to their fur and they cannot
get it off again, nor, indeed, do they like the smell.
Another way is to catch two or three, or if you cannot
catch them, buy them, cover them well with horse tur¬
pentine and let them go. They will scent the runs well
with it, and the suspicious inhabitants thereof will
be off forthwith, thinking there is treachery about, and
their quarters are becoming dangerous. The smell, too,
is probably unpleasant to them.

In ‘The Vermin Catcher, 1768,’ the author gives the
following prescription, acting upon the idea that it is a
good plan to make them migrate : ‘ I shall here give the
reader another maxim I have often followed very success¬
fully. Take a pint of common tar, half an ounce of vitriol,
and a good handful of common salt : mix them all well to¬
gether in any old deep pan. Get some pieces of paper, and
put some of the above mixture very thick on the paper,
and place enough of this into the holes, sufficient to stop
them, and then let the bricklayer make good after you ;

RATS.

145

and if you should find any of the holes opened again,
it is quite certain you had not put in a sufficient
quantity ; then put in some more, and if it is done as it
ought, they will never approach there any more while
either taste or smell remains in it. Now by stopping in
the shores [quaere, sewers?] in town with the above mix¬
ture, I have kept a gentleman’s house entirely clear
and have never caught a single rat.’

Again, he gives a capital plan for smoking them out
when they get up behind the wainscot. 4 Find out a
small hole or crack, then take a handful of common
salt, and put it in at the hole or crack, and pour upon the
salt a spoonful or two of oil of vitriol, and this will make
such a fumigation or smoke that they cannot bear it.
Then stop the hole or crevice again, that the smoke
may not come out. Do this in two or three places as
near where you hear they are as you can, and it will
cause them to forsake those places. This method is
very safe, as no damage can possibly ensue to the
wainscot from the smoke.’

The iron wire cage traps and the common hutch
traps are sometimes useful in houses, but they soon lose
their efficacy, because after one or two rats are caught
the others find out that it is a dangerous machine, and
do not go into it. The traps then do more harm than
good, because the rats, smelling the bait, come to it
from all parts ; and as we have seen news flies quickly
among them, you get your neighbours’ rats as well as
your own into your premises. They play round the
bait, but do not go into the trap ; then being hungry,
both the strangers and the original rafs of the place
begin foraging about, and make holes in the corn-bins.,
cupboards, &c.

L-

146

EATS.

The same tiling’ holds good with the fly papers ; it is
true you catch some of the flies, but you get double
your share of flies in the room, as they are attracted
by the poison placed for them.

The most ingenious and simple trap I know to catch
rats is made with a common tub or barrel and a little
bit of board. A. tub or barrel without a head must be
procured, deep enough to prevent a rat getting out of it
when he is once in ; then cut a bit out of its upper
edge, and to this fit a bit of board about a foot long
and an inch or more broad ; through the centre of this
board run a bit of wire, and so fix it by its centre into
the notch in the tub that it is perfectly balanced, like
the boards on which the boys play see-saw. On to the
end which overhangs the tub fasten firmly a bit of
bacon or cheese, and let the other, the free end, rest
against a shelf or any projection, so that the rats can
get on it to eat the bacon. By means of a nail or two,
or an upright bit of wood, fix the swinging board, so
that it becomes perfectly steady and immovable. Let
the rats become accustomed to get upon it and eat the
bait without its being moved by their weight, for two or
three nights, till they gain confidence ; then, on the
night that you wish to catch them, simply remove the
supporters from under that half of the board which over¬
hangs the barrel, leaving the supporters of that half of the
board which is outside the tub still in their places. The
bait must remain in its place at the end overhanging
the tub ; the rats will come as usual, and run along the
board to get to the bait ; but directly they get upon the
inside half of the board, which is now no longrer sun-
ported, it will tip up with them and precipitate them
into the barrel below. This done, the board, if properly

RATS.

147

balanced, will return to its proper position, and be
ready for another rat. In this way an indefinite quail
tity of rats may be caught in a single night. The barrel
may be half filled with water, if it is desirable to kill the
rats, for they cannot swim about very long without
being drowned, and can get no purchase for their claws
or solid place from which they might make a spring to
get out. When swimming about they will probably
make a noise of distress, and the other rats (for they
are inquisitive animals) will come to see what is the
matter. The inquirer will probably go on to the
treacherous board to look, and will become a victim to
his curiosity, for he will fall in as well as his brethren
who have preceded him. This is the plan adopted by
the captain of the slave-ship when he makes his unfortu¬
nate fellow-creatures 4 walk the plank.’

There is another efficacious way to catch rats about
farm-yards, dog- kennels, &c., which has the merit of
simplicity as well as of cheapness. It has been kindly
mentioned and explained to me by a gentleman who has
used it writh great success. It is made with an elastic
twig of willow, or any other tree, two bits of wood, a
bit of string, and a noose of wire.

The first thing to be done is to ascertain the run of
the rat, which is easily found out, as their pathways are
generally well trodden down ; then fix the twig, which
ought to be about two yards and a half long, into the
ground by its thick end, and fasten a bit of string
on to it ; to the end of the string fasten a bit of wood
cut in the shape of Fig. 6, Plate II. On to this bit
of wood fasten your wire, which must have a noose
at its end a little larger than the bodv of a rat. Bv
the side of the run thrust firmly into the ground a stout

l 2

148

EATS.

bit of wood, having a finger to it, as at Fig. 7, Plate II.,
then bend the twig over so that the bit of wood at the
end of the string fastened to it shall catch under the
finger of the peg of wood in the ground ; adjust the
noose of the wire at the right height from the ground —
about an inch and a half — and your trap is set (Plate
II. Fig. 3). It requires some nicety to arrange the
distances, &c., but a little experience will soon teach
this. When the rat comes along the run he will put his *
head into the wire, and in his str uggles to get loose will
let fi •ee the twig, which will whip him up into the air,
where he will remain till you come to take him out.
These traps are best set at night, when the rats cannot
see the wire very well. The finest copper wire is the
best to use, and if the wire will not stand in its proper
position over the run, it may be supported by a little
forked stick underneath it.

This trap has been used with great success at the
Rufford kennels, Notts. The best night’s sport showed
fifteen rats in the air, with twenty traps down ; and the
sum total in about three months was upwards of two
hundred rats. One great merit of this trap is, that the
rats do not seem to be the least aware of the danger
they are in from the snares, as, when caught, there is
no noise. If the rats get at all shy, spring the traps for
a night and change the place of setting.

THE COBRA El CAPELLO.

149

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

i Turn vero tremefacta novus per pectora cuuctis.

Insinuat pavor ; et scelus expendisse merentem

Laocoonta ferunt, sacrum qui cuspide robur

Lseserit et tergo sceleratam intorserit hastam.’'*

Virgil, iEn. ii. 228.

With these lines might have ended a paragraph of
4 The Times,’ as published in the famous city of Troy
many a long year ago, and handed thence down to
posterity by the poet Virgil, detailing a full and true
account of the dreadful accident which had just happened
to Mr. Laocoon and the two Master Laocoons. Mr.
Laocoon, it appears, held the office of high-priest to
Apollo, and probably was superintendent of detectives
in that far-famed city. The Greeks were encamped
before the ramparts, and had been so for some time.
They were nearly tired of such fun, and being unable
to get in by fair means and the force of arms, and not
having brought with them Captain Warner’s long-
range, or a lot of Minie rifles, they adopted a most
peculiar and original notion. They built a great
wooden horse, such as might have been seen in the
studio of the late Sir Francis Chan trey, when he was
modelling the statue of George the Fourth, now at

* * Amazement seizes all ; the general cry
Proclaims Laocoon justly doomed to die,

Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,

And dared to violate the sacred wood.’ Dryden.

150

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

Cliaring Cross. What the exact shape of this Trojm
steed was we are not informed. Virgil was not well up in
Tattersallian phrases, so he contented himself by saying
that he was 4 Instar montis,’ as big as a mountain, and
that his ribs were made of cut fir. So big was he in¬
deed that he could not go through the Trojan Temple
Bar, and the walls had to be pulled down to let him in.’

The crafty Grecians having constructed this noble
animal, adopted that piece of advice often given to
Sunday cockney equestrians by small boys, ‘ Hadn’t you
better pay the difference, sir, and get inside?’ They
accordingly filled their helmets with food — they had no
pockets in their armour — soldiers never had, and never
will have pockets — and in they tumbled — how many
we are not told — close quarters it must have been for
these brave Greeks. They dared not abuse each other
for squeezing, or poke holes in the horse’s sides for
breathing, as they overheard Mr. Laocoon, who was
haranguing the assembled Trojans close by, propose tc
set fire to their equestrian prison, and see if there was
anybody inside. The Master Laocoons were seen by
the serjeant of the company, who was looking through
the animal’s ear, piling up trusses of straw in the
manner of burning pigs, if the Trojans singed their
bacon. While Laocoon was striking a light, he was
assailed by cries of ‘shame’ from the crowd, and being
in a rage took up a spear and hurled it into the nag’s
side. The fat corporal

‘ Ipse doli fabricator Epeus, ’*

was hit in the leg, and while his comrades were trying

* ‘ The famed

Epeus who the fatal engine framed,’

Dryden.

TIIE COBRA DI UAFELLO.

151

to put a pocket-handkerchief in his mouth to prevent
nim crying out, their heavy metal coats clashed to¬
gether —

‘Insonuere cavse gemitumque dedere cavernce.’*

No sooner had Laocoon done this, than two snakes
appeared out at sea making their way from the island
of Tenedos, for the place where the horse stood.
(Strange to say, these monstrous sea-snakes are de¬
scribed by the poet as having crests, such as are generally
attributed to modern sea-snakes, by those who have
been lucky enough to see, or fancy they saw them.)
Away went the crowd —

* Diffugimus visu exsangues.’f

The poor Laocoon family seemed to have been
fascinated, as birds are by the rattlesnake in South
America. The great sea-monsters came gliding up
with vibrating tongues; and, entwining their muscular
folds round the two younger branches of the family,
fixed their teeth in their young limbs (the snakes were
evidently of the boa-constrictor tribe, or they would
not have used this mode of attack). Laocoon, like a
brave father, came to the rescue ; in vain did he hack
at the scaly limbs of the monsters : they caught him in
their folds ; and he perished miserably, a great example
to the pious Aeneas, and the Trojans in general, of the
necessity of obeying the will of the gods. This scene
has been so admirably represented in marble by the

* ‘ The sides transpierced return a hollow sound,

And groans of Greeks enclosed come issuing through the

wound.’ t ‘ We fled amazed.’ Dbyden.

152

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

sculptor, and so wonderfully painted in words by
Virgil, that we here introduce his admirable lines, not
to be read over with a schoolboy listlessness, but as a
truthful, accurate, and grand description of a serpent
seizing a human victim : —

‘ Post ipsum, auxilio subeuntem ac tela ferentem
Corripiunt, spirisque ligant ingentibus ; et jam
Bis medium amplexi, bis collo squamea circum
Terga dati, superant capite et cervicibus altis.

Ille simul manibus tendit divellere nodos
Perfusus sanie vittas atroque veneno.’*

Having done the cruel deed, the snakes did not
attempt to eat the slain, but quietly glided away into
the sacred part of the city —

* Delubra ad summa dracones
Effugiunt, saevseque petunt Tritonidis arcem
Sub pedibusque Deae, clypeique sub orbe teguntur.’f

Bv a somewhat similar and shocking; occurrence
were the good folks of this modern Troy, the city of
London (who are now by means of the press united,
as it were, into one family), disturbed by reading in
‘The Times’ of October 21st, 1852, the following

* ‘ The wretched father running to their aid
With pious haste they next invade ;

Twice round his waist their winding volumes roll’d,

And twice about his gasping throat they fold.

The Priest, thus doubly choked, their crest divides,

And towering o’er his head in triumph rides :

With both his hands he labours at the knots
His holy fillets the blue venom blots.’

T ‘ Their’task perform’d, the serpents quit their prey,

And to the tower of Pallas make their way ;

Crouch’d at her feet they lay protected there

By her large buckler and protended spear.’ Dryden.

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

153

account of a Laocoon-like proceeding1, which had
occurred at the Zoological Gardens, Regent’s Park, the
previous day. It runs as follows : —

i Edward Curling, aged 31, was brought to Univer¬
sity College Hospital yesterday morning, October 20th.
His occupation was that of a keeper at the Zoological
Gardens, and the care of the reptile-house was his
special duty. About 8 a.m., while engaged at his
work in this department, he commenced a series of rash
familiarities with some of the venomous serpents. After
removing an African cobra from its cage, and twirling
it about his head, he replaced it without having received
any injury, and took out an Indian cobra. This he also
played with for some time with impunity, allowing it to
crawl round his body beneath his waistcoat. Shortly
afterwards, however, while he was holding the snake
before his face the creature made a dart at him, and
inflicted a wTound on the upper part of his nose, &c.
In forty minutes past 9 a.m. he was a corpse.’

It is not my intention to go into all the circumstances
of this case, as this has been already amply done by the
various letters we have seen in the newspapers on the
subject. We may, however, usefully and profitably
employ our time in examining, admiring, and wonder¬
ing, at the structure and conformation of the snake
tribe, with special reference to their small but effective
apparatus of death, as developed in that most poi¬
sonous of all snakes the cobra di capello. Although
deprived of feet, fins, and other obvious members for
walking, the serpent glides on the earth, ascends trees,
or even directs its course through the waters, with
surprising agility, and with graceful evolutions : yet
the serpent was c cursed above every beast of the field/

154

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

and man, as if remembering the curse, turns from the
reptile with disgust and horror, or seeks to effect its
instant destruction. Let us examine how all this is
effected, and first as to the spinal column.

The numerous bones or vertebrae which form this
chain, are united together by ball and socket articula¬
tions, or, in other words, the rounded head of each is
fitted into a cup like cavity in its predecessor, so that
the whole column is a chain of these joints, capable of
the utmost mobility compatible with the safety of the
spinal cord enclosed within. The articulations can only
be moved from side to side ; and their progress by ver¬
tical undulations, as is seen in many old prints of ser¬
pents, is anatomically impossible.

So also it is impossible for the snake to perform the
feat which has been ascribed to him, when he wishes
to go quickly down a hill ; for, according to an absurd
story, he is said to put his tail in his mouth, and roll
himself down, being in the form of a hoop. It is just
as well to recollect the fact that a snake cannot turn
himself directly upwards when held by the tail. He
can wriggle famously from side to side, but certainly not
upwards. Hence it follows, that the best way to handle
a snake is to hold him out at arm’s length : in this
position he can do no harm.

But how, it will be asked, does the snake contrive to
get along the ground so fast, as he has no perceptible
legs or arms to help him ? This is managed as follows :

—To each vertebra — and a large snake has many dozen
vertebrae — is attached a pair of ribs : the small ends of
these ribs are not attached to a sternum, or breast-bone,
as in man, but to a single scutum or scale on the ab¬
domen, by means of a slender cartilage and a set of

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155

short muscles. It is on the points of these ribs, which
may be compared to the legs of a millipede, that the
snake rests, and they act in progressive order, just like
the legs of that creature, each pair bringing forward
the plate or scutum to which it is attached. This row
of scuta may thus be regarded as one long ample foot.
Sir E. Home, in his 4 Comparative Anatomy,’ gives an
account of the muscles which, arising from the ribs,
give motion to the scuta. He observes, that the rib in
the snake performs two functions ; the upper half is
concerned in respiration, the lower in locomotion.

If a snake be allowed quietly to crawl over the hand,
the progressive movement of the ribs may be easily
distinguished, and also if it be watched while crawling
over any raised edge (as the back of a book), requiring
the firm application of two or three scuta in succession
as the body glides over it.

If you put a snake on a bit of plate-glass he can get
no hold with the scuta, and becomes powerless.

Snakes are often in the habit of climbing trees, and
we see them represented in engravings, particularly in
old pictorial Bibles, where the serpent is seen tempting
Adam and Eve, and in stuffed specimens in museums, as
coiling their bodies round the branches, in corkscrew¬
like folds. Now the snake (when alive) never does this:
it simply glides up with the whole body extended in a
straight line, clinging by means of the .tips of the ex¬
panded ribs with the scuta atached, as has been above
explained. Mr. Gosse tells us that 6 the black snake in
Jamaica will allow the greatest part of its body to hang
down in the air, and thus remain still, while little more
than the tail maintains its position by clinging (straight,
not spirally, and not half round it, but longitudinally

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along- it) to the upper surface of a branch ; and it will
often pass freely and gracefully from one branch to an¬
other at a considerable interval, projecting its head and
body with the utmost ease across the interval. The
motions of a snake in a tree are beautifully easy and free,
and convey the impression that the reptile feels quite at
home among the branches.’

The apple on a branch, with a snake coiled round it,
is used as an emblem of the fall of man, or original sin.
Again, the snake is used as an emblem of the devil, in
allusion, probably, to Revelation xii. 9 : c And the
great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the
devil.’ The figure is generally drawn in the form of
an enormous crocodile, or hideous lizard.

The virgin, trampling on the head of the serpent
or dragon, is the usual figurative manner of representing
the Conception. The chalice is the sign of the priestly
order, because the cup was forbidden to the laity, and
only received by the priests. With a snake or scorpion
in it, it is usually the attribute of those saints who are
said to have drunk off poison without being affected by
it, as St. John the Evangelist and St. Benedict.

I recollect the late lamented Sir Henry De La Beche
telling me that in Jamaica, when the fowls go to roost,
the young chickens always take up their position at the
end of the branch furthest from the trunk of the tree,
the oldest birds occupying that part of the chosen branch
which is close to the trunk ; the reason of this being,
that the snakes frequently, in the stillness of the night,
glide up among the branches of the trees, and along the
trunk. As the first birds they would attack would
be those nearest the trunk, these crafty old sentries,
piquet themselves a night-guard over the tender

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157

and inexperienced chicks, whom they have, with a
wonderful instinct, posted at the point furthest away
from danger, viz. at the extremity of the branch.
Fowls are very wakeful creatures ; a very little noise
will cause them to set up their ‘ cluck, cluck and we
have often thought, that if made to roost in the area of
a London house, they would give the alarm should any
person attempt an entry in that direction. Geese, as
we well know, once served an important turn to the
Romans in olden time, giving an early alarm of the
approach of the enemy.

Another curious, and to me inexplicable point in the
instinct of birds, is this : it is mentioned in that most
interesting book of the great observer of the habits of
animals, the Hon. Grantley Berkeley. In ‘ The Remi¬
niscences of a Huntsman’ he writes: — •

‘ When the electric wires were first put up , a vast
number of birds, which in windy weather fly swiftly
and low, killed themselves in their flight by concussion
with the wires. These victims consisted chiefly of
golden plovers, black game, grouse, woodcocks, snipe,
partridges, &c., and occasionally wood-pigeons, phea¬
sants, and a few other birds ; but since the wires have
been up, now a space of some years, the deaths by birds
flying against them have considerably decreased.’

Mr. Neil, who is much occupied with railways, tells
me that it always happens where wires are placed on the
poles, in situations where they never have been erected
before, that many dead birds are picked up, killed by
flying against them ; but this only for a few weeks.
When the wires have been up some time, the birds
avoid them : this looks like profiting by experience.

Next, as to the skin of the snake. The patterns

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and structure of the skin vary in each tribe of snakes*
In some parts of India the skins of snakes are used for
ornamental clothes, on account of their uncommon
beauty; and being extremely rare they are valued
in proportion. Several years ago Dr. Russell wrote a
book on the snakes of India, his object being to show
Europeans which snakes were poisonous and which not.
The native Indians are skilful colourists ; and he took
native artists into the woods with him, to colour the
snakes directly they were killed. These artists were not
good hands at perspective, so they have drawn all the
snakes quite flat, but the colours are amazingly like
nature. The snake requires no tailor when, after
remaining under some stump all the winter, lie comes
out to enjoy the bright sun of a spring morning, and
thinks that his old, dirty, last year’s coat is much too
shabby to be worn any longer ; he therefore literally
casts it off, and, lucky fellow, finds a new one under¬
neath. Every one is familiar with the appearance of
this cast-off garment ; but if we examine it carefully, we
shall ascertain a curious and interesting fact, namely,
that the eyes of these beasts, which, not being protected
by eyelids, are always liable to injuries from the thorns
and bushes among which they creep, are defended by a
hard and firm membrane, which, however, is trans¬
parent, and forms a complete and close-fitting protec¬
tion for these delicate organs.

Just before a snake casts his skin he is, on this ac¬
count, nearly blind, as there are then two membranes
over his eyes, the old one, not yet gone and now become
opaque, the new one underneath not yet quite formed.
At this period, too, they are always sleepy and out of
condition, and if in confinement not unfrequently die.

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159

The same poor man whose unfortunate death we have
above recorded remarked to me, in one of my visits
to the gardens, not long before his death, that one of
his snakes (which he pointed out to me) was very sickly,
and that he was afraid lie should lose him, as he was
‘casting his coat unkindly.’ It was, in fact, peeling
off in irregular scales, some quite detached, some still
adherent ; whereas it ought all to come off as perfect
and unbroken as a glove from the hand. If this snake
had been at home among the brushwood and rough
grass of his native jungle, instead of in a smart maho¬
gany cage with plate-glass windows, he would soon have
got rid of his encumbrance by pushing himself between
two conveniently-situated obstacles.

I have read that a Hottentot convert, when holding
forth to his brother blacks, used this fact of the snake’s
changing his skin, as a simile of the immortality of the
soul. ‘ When,’ said he, ‘ we find the skin, we do not
call it the serpent — no, for we know it is alive, and has
only cast its skin: the serpent is the soul, the skin is the
body.’

Snakes in captivity are subject to a disease which
kills many of them ; it is a peculiar fungus-like substance
which grows upon their lips, and this fungus sometimes
grows to an enormous extent. No cure is known for it,
nor. indeed, if we did know a cure would it be easy to
apply a remedy. Who would undertake to doctor a
cobra’s teeth ? and even a boa-constrictor Avould be an
awkward patient. I understand that the snakes at the
Zoological Gardens at Bristol are never troubled with
this disease : this is a very remarkable fact. It is curious,
also, that most of the animals breed better at Bristol
than in London. Our London gardens are most un-

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favourably situated, for they are upon the London clay,
and are much subject to fogs. As regards snakes’ skins,
Mr. Quekett kindly showed me two specimens, one of
the common English snake, the other of the boa, in
which the blood-vessels had been filled with red-coloured
injection. I could hardly believe that a snake’s skin was
so vascular till I saw these preparations. Being fully
extended, the scales were seen separated one from the
other, a wise arrangement to allow extension when the
animal has fed. These scales were in an hexagonal
form, and the blood-vessels were also of the same shape:
the points of the hexagons formed by the blood-vessels
corresponded to the centres of the scale hexagons,
forming a most beautiful transparent pattern, much like
a first-class glass window. In the common snake the
peculiar leaden hue of the skin was beautifully pre¬
served.

In the rattlesnake we find the skin performing a new
function. I say the skin advisedly, for the rattle of this
snake is composed of a hard horny material, similar to
the common skin hardened. This rattle is composed of
links, fastened together by a most peculiar and beautiful
joint, which I wonder has never been applied to the arts.
I here throw out the suggestion, which may be of use
to some one. I showed Mr. Hancock, jewreller, of
Bond-street, the exquisite neatness and workmanship
displayed in the vertebrae or back-bone of the snake,
and he promised to make me a chain after the model.
He found that the little prominences of bone projecting
naturally from each vertebra would interfere with its
being generally adopted, as they would be always catch¬
ing in things. Still a snake back-bone modelled in gold
would make a pretty watch-chain or bracelet.

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

161

When examining the cast-off skins at the Zoological
Gardens, we observed some white-looking substance in
a box. This is the dejecta of the snakes. It is a perfectly
white substance, looking very like plaster of Paris, and
is composed of nearly pure uric acid. It is bought by a
doctor (I imagine a chemist) for the high price of nine
shillings a-pound. What he can do with it is as yet a
mystery to me, not to remain so long, I trust. Some of
these pieces were well marked with circular depressions,
the casts of the lining membrane of the snakes’ intestines.
The coprolites. the dejecta of the ancient ichthyosaurus
and plesiosaurus, were marked in this way, as described
by my father in his Bridgewater Treatise. I was much
pleased to find such a capital modern illustration of this
phenomenon. When in a herbalist’s shop in Covent-
garden, I observed a large glass bottle nearly full of
common snakes of all sizes and ages, varying in price
from ninepence to two shillings. I found that my
friend, 4 the doctor,’ had been here too, and that he
bought many snakes. What he did with the snakes the
herbalist could not tell me. but he imagined he boiled
the oil out of them, and mixed it up with some kind of
ointment. In one season 4 the doctor ’ was supplied with
over thirty pounds weight of snakes. Most of the snakes
supplied to London come from Harrow and the woods
to the north of London.

The man also informed me that he sometimes sold
vipers for some medicinal purpose, but they were 4 nasty
customers,’ and he did not much like having them in
his shop. In former times vipers were much used in
medicine. In a curious old book entitled 4 Physico-
Theology ; or, A Demonstration of the Being and Attri¬
butes of God, from his Works of Creation, being the

M

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substance of sixteen Sermons preached in St. Mary-le.
Bow Church, London, in the years 1711 and 1712, by
W. Derham, Canon of Windsor,’ I find the following
among what he calls £ the large notes.5 ‘ That vipers
have their great uses in physick is manifest from their
bearing a great share in some of our best antidotes, such
as Theriaca * Andromachi and others ; also in the cure of
Elephantiasis and other like stubborn maladies, for
which I shall refer to the medical writers. But there is
so singular a case in the curious collection of Dr. 01.
Worm, related from Kircher, that I shall entertain the
reader with a translation of the passage. Near the
village of Saffa, about eight miles from the city Brac-
ciano, in Italy, he saith there is a cavern commonly
called LaGrotta del Serpi, big enough to hold two men,
perforated with many pipe-like holes after the fashion of
a sieve, from which a great number of parti-coloured
snakes come forth at the beginning of the spring of each
year ; none of these snakes, it is said, are imbued with
the power of poisoning.

c In this cave they are accustomed to expose persons
afflicted with elephantiasis, leprosy, paralysis, diseases of

* The word Theriacum is often used in the present day in
prescriptions, and when the chemist reads it, he knows ‘treacle’
is meant. I find in an old dictionary, ‘ Theriacum, good against
the biting of vipers, or other venomous beasts, either because it
is an antidote to poisonous beasts, or because it is made from
their poison, from a wild beast, a “ viper.” ’ The original pre¬
paration, was, I imagine, of a viscid nature, and dark colour, and
when treacle was invented, they probably wanted a Latin name
for it, so they christened it Theriacum, from its appearance. I
see there were several kinds of Theriaca in use formerly, as
Theriaca coelestis, liquid laudanum ; Theriaca Londinensis, a
cataplasm of cummin-seed, bay-leaves, germander, snake-root,
cloves, and honey ; Theriaca rusticorum, the roots of the garlic.

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163

the joints, gout, &c., who, presently falling into a per¬
spiration from the warmth of the subterranean exhala¬
tions, are said to be so divested of all vicious and
virulent humours by the suction and licking of serpents
casting their sloughs (propullulantium), which twine
themselves about the whole of the body of the sick man,
that this treatment having been applied for some time,
they are at length restored to perfect health.’

This cave Kircher visited himself. lie found it warm
and every way answering to the description he had of
it. He saw the holes, and heard a murmuring hissing
noise in them ; but although he missed seeing the serpents,
it not being the season of their creeping out, yet he
saw great numbers of their exuviae or sloughs, and an elm
growing hard by laden with them. The discovery of this
cave was by the cure of a leper going from Rome to
some baths near this place ; who losing his way, and being
benighted, happened upon the cave. Finding it very
warm, he pulled off his clothes, and being weary and
sleepy, had the good fortune not to feel the serpents about
him till they had wrought his cure. Now this story is
pretty clear. The cure was put down to the snakes when it
was due to the hot vapours, possibly containing sulphur,
for the cave is in a district abounding with hot volcanic
springs and cracks, from which issue all sorts of vapours,
the results of volcanic action. The snakes found out
this cavern to hybernate in, for it is particularly
remarked by Kircher that they are most abundant in the
beginning of the spring. They had hidden themselves in
the warm cracks all the winter, and coming out simul¬
taneously in the spring would appear in great numbers.
Again, ‘ the elm laden with the sloughs ’ testifies to this
fact, for they shed their old winter coats previously to

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dispersing themselves over the country for the summer
season. A continued repetition of medicated vapcur-
baths provided by nature herself would possibly cure
many of those afflicted with the various diseases men¬
tioned, particularly the gout, the skin and joint cases,
and the snakes got the credit for the cures. From the
following passage it appears that vipers, in Dr. Meade’s
time, 1745, were used frequently by apothecaries :
‘ Whosoever reflects on what has been said on this head,
will very readily acknowledge that our physicians deal
too cautiously or sparingly with a remedy which may be
applied to very good purposes, when they prescribe a
few grains of the powder of dried vipers, or make up a
small quantity of their flesh into troches,* whereas that
service may really be done in this way, the patient ought
to eat frequently of viper jelly or broth ; or rather, as
the ancient manner was, to boil vipers and eat them like
fish. If this food will not go down (though really very
good and delicious fare), to make use at least of wine in
which dried vipers have been digested two or three
days in a gentle heat, from which I have seen very good
effects in obstinate Lepra (a skin disease) : or lastly,
where wine is not convenient, to take either the powder,
or good quantities of the viperine salt, in which alone
the virtue of all medicines made from this creature
resides. And therefore the salt of any other animal
which is still more pungent and stimulating than this, is
yet a more powerful remedy in dry and scaly leprous
eruptions, which may without any inconvenience be
given in the form of a tincture made with spirit of
wine, vide Pharmacopoeia, London.’ Aesculapius, the
god of medicine, is generally represented with a rod

* Lozenges.

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165

wound round with two snakes, because they were
supposed by the ancients to contain many medicinal
virtues. He is also represented on ancient Greek coins
with a large matted beard, and a knotty stick in his
right hand, a symbol of the difficulty of his art.

The crow, too, owes his black colour to AEsculapius,
for his mother, the nymph Coronis, had a tiff with his
father Apollo, who killed her then and there. Apollo,
sorry for the murder, changed the crow’s feathers,
which were white before, into black, that he might
mourn for the death of Coronis.

Even in our time snakes are used medicinally. We
read in Notes and Queries: ‘Many Cambridge people
still remember an old man called the Duke of York,
who earned his living by sitting on the steps of King’s
College and exhibiting to the strangers, who went to see
that far-famed building, live specimens of the common
English snake, which abounds in this neighbourhood.
This man added to his earnings by selling the sloughs
or cast-off skin of these reptiles as sovereign remedies
for all pains in the head when bound round the forehead
and temples. My informant has frequently seen him
dispose of them for this purpose.’

When iu the woods at Wey bridge, near London, a boy
told me he had just killed an adder, but he had thrown
away the body. He showed me the fat he had preserved,
and which he reserved ‘ for cuts, burns, &c. I do not ima¬
gine that ‘ adders’ fat,’ ‘ goose grease,’ and other popular
formulas for animal ointments, are quite as efficacious as
the ointments of the Pharmacopoeia ; at all events, they
can do no harm if used before they become rancid. The
days of ointments are now passing away ; lint, wet with
water and covered with oiled silk, being generally more
healing and more soothing than greasy applications.

16 6

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After the operation of shedding- his skin, the snake
recovers his lost spirits, and glides about as if proud of
his personal appearance. Virgil observed, and has
recorded this fact in the following beautiful lines :

‘ Cum positis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventa
Volvitur, aut catulos tectis aut ova relinquens,

Arduus ad solem et linguis micat ora trisulcis.’*

This operation of skinning is performed by man in a
much more clumsy way than by nature. This has been
described by Captain Stedman, and we insert it here that
our readers may appreciate the difference between nature
and art. The gallant captain had, with some difficulty,
managed to kill a large boa in a jungle on the border of
a river in Surinam : the brute measured twenty-two feet
seven inches, though the natives declared it to be a
young one. He says : ‘We now secured the snake by
passing a rope round over its head and towed him, at
the end of the canoe, to the shore ; here, upon due
consideration, it was determined to have him skinned,
for the sake of the oil. In order to effect this purpose,
the negro David, having climbed a tree with the end of
a rope, let it down over a strong forked branch, and the
other negroes hoisted up the snake and suspended him
from the tree. This done, David, with a sharp knife
between his teeth, now left the tree and clung fast upon
the monster, which was still twisting, and began his
operation by ripping it up and stripping down the skin

* * When he, renewed in all his speckled pride
Of pompous youth, has cast his slough aside,

And in his summer livery rolls along,

Erect and brandishing his forky tongue,

Leaving his nest, and his imperfect young,

And, thoughtless of his egg, forgets to rear

The hopes of poison for the following year.’- -Dryden

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167

as he descended. Though I perceived that the animal
was no longer able to do him any injury, I confess I
could not, without emotion, see a man stark naked,
black, and bloody, clinging with arms and legs round
the slimy and yet living monster. This labour, however,
was not without its use, since he not only dexterously
finished the operation, but provided me, besides the skin,
with above four gallons of fine clarified fat, or rather
oil, though there was wasted perhaps as much more.’
The adventure was concluded by the negro spectators
making a grand feast on the body, and very good it was,
no doubt.

Virgil, in the lines quoted above, mentions the eggs.
There is often present in the minds of people who are
afraid of objects of natural history, a very vague and
obscure idea of the mode in which the said objects of
their alarm are propagated. I recollect showing, on
one occasion, a dead bat to a schoolboy of this cha¬
racter, who, standing as far off' as he could without pre¬
tending to be alarmed, and holding his handkerchief to
his nose, asked in the most innocent manner what colour
bats’ eggs were. This same timid youth, when I sud¬
denly presented acoiled-up hedgehog to him, exclaimed,
‘ If you bring that thing near me, I will break it.’

However, though bats don’t lay eggs, snakes do.
They are generally deposited in a long string, connected
together by a sort of viscous matter. I have seen as
many as thirty in one string. The mother generally
deposits them in a dunghill or heap of decaying vege¬
table matter, and gives herself no more concern about
them. The shell of the egg is of a beautiful white co¬
lour, like a common hen’s egg, and feels like a very soft
white kid glove. If we cut open these eggs just before

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they are hatched, the young1 snakes will come out quite
lively and attempt to escape. I tried this experi¬
ment last summer, and I have been credibly informed
that a gentleman, fond of natural history, while taking
a ramble on the coast of Essex, killed a viper full of
eggs. He took out his penknife and let out a string of
eggs, fourteen in number. In each of these was a
young adder, perfectly formed, and enveloped in a glu¬
tinous fluid. The little creatures, although they had
never seen the light before, raised themselves up and
evinced an inclination to bite, an absurd proceeding on
their part, as they soon afterwards ended their short
lives in a bottle of spirits of wine.

Hens’ eggs, we know, are good to eat, but I never
tried a snake’s egg. I may, however, say with the
small boy in the street, ‘ I knows somebody wot has.’
Some years ago* I obtained several eggs of the common
English snake, and put them on a shelf of a greenhouse
to see if the heat of the sun would hatch them. One
morning I found several of my eggs gone ; everybody
denied touching them. At the same time a certain
young lady, then an inmate of the nursery, was suddenly
taken ill. The doctor was sent for, but was puzzled to
ascertain the cause of the illness. At last the confes¬
sion reluctantly came out from the sobbing culprit, that
she ‘ had eaten some large sugar-plums she had found
on a shelf in the greenhouse.’ She had, in fact, made
a repast on the snake’s eggs, under the delusion that she
was robbing the cook of preserves put out to dry. The
young lady aforesaid would, I think, now feel uncom¬
fortable if her partner at a ball-room supper, in picking
out the nice bits of egg from a lobster salad, should, by
way of keeping up the lagging conversation, hazard

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169

the observation, * Pray did you ever try a snake’s

pcrcr

In May, 1857, the body of an enormous boa-con¬
strictor was sent to me from the Zoological Gardens, at
Bristol, for examination, previous to its being made into
a skeleton by Mr. Flower, articulator to the Royal Col¬
lege of Surgeons. This snake contained from forty to
fifty eggs, each about the size of a large hen’s egg. I
could find no cause for its death, and agree with my
friend Mr. Cq||lson, of Bristol, that the possible cause
of the death of the animal was, that it wanted to lay its
eggs and had no proper place provided for that purpose.
This snake was sixteen feet long, and had been in the
Bristol gardens seven years. Mr. Flower has now made
a skeleton of it as white and as beautiful as that under
the glass case in the College Museum.

Snakes may be broadly divided into two classes — the
venomous and the non-venomous. It is of great
importance to be acquainted with some general exter¬
nal appearances by which at a glance we may be
enabled at once to say whether a snake may be handled
with impunity or not. Thus, in the non-poisonous spe¬
cies we find, for the most part, the form of the head and
body cylindrical and the scales comparatively small.
The tongue, which is generally protruded when the
beast is alarmed, in order to intimidate the bystander,
is thick and short when compared with the tongue in the
poisonous reptile ; this is well exemplified in that most
harmless, yet most persecuted, of the snake family, the
blind worm, or, as it is sometimes called, the slow-worm.

In the venomous species, on the contrary, we find the
head and body flattened, the head particularly broad,
and the neck behind, in consequence, narrowed in a

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marked degree. They have, moreover, an unmistak¬
ably ferocious aspect (as though conscious of their
powers), which announces their malevolent nature.
When irritated or alarmed, these poisonous beasts as¬
sume an attitude of defiance, whereas the harmless snake
generally seeks safety in flight.

I cannot here refrain from observing how very care¬
less artists and jewellers are in making their snakes’
heads, whether the snake be intended as an ornament for
a lady’s wrist or a monster bronze pythoy on a marble
pedestal. These artistic snakes are like nothing ever
created ; witness the head of the dragon on the parade
in front of the Horse Guards. Certainly the artist must
have searched a long time before he could have found a
model dragon ; but, nevertheless, this brute’s head
bears no resemblance to. anything which creeps or flies.
He might surely have found some snake or lizard whose
head would have been hideous enough for his purpose,
and certainly more like nature than the nondescript
placed there to astonish, and doubtless frighten the pub-
lic.# Who ever saw a lion’s head door-knocker bearing
the least resemblance to the noble head of the kiim of

O

the beasts? or a bear’s paw on a hammer-cloth like the
paw of the most miserable representative of the race who
was ever slaughtered for bear’s grease in Oxford-street?

A most marked instance of this want of observance is
to be seen, ‘ I have been told,' in the fountain erected to
the great father of natural history, Cuvier, outside the
gates of the Jardin des Plantes, at Paris. Here is re¬
presented, first, an anatomical impossibility, viz., a cro¬
codile turning his head at right angles to his body ;

* There is a good specimen of an ideal flying dragon placed
as a weathercock on the steeple of Bow Church in the city.

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171

secondly, a zoological absurdity, viz., a walrus, a grami¬
nivorous rather than a piscivorous animal, holding a fish
in his mouth, and that a fresh-water fish. Surely Cuvier,
if he could see his own fountain, would be much pleased
to observe the good use that had been made of his investi¬
gations into the secrets of nature by the artist.

When in a plaster of Paris shop near Drury-lane, I
saw a magnificent cast of a lion’s head, which, I was in¬
formed, was intended as a study for artists. Upon exa¬
mining the teeth, I found that the sharp and formidable
canine teeth were certainly not like those we see in a
lion’s mouth. I mentioned this, and was told that it
certainly was a cast from nature, but that most likely
the modellers had touched up the teeth afterwards.
What a pity it is these worthies will try to improve on
nature. The molar teeth were quite copies of nature :
they had not been ‘ touched up.’ If the reader ever
goes to the new and magnificent cattle-market at Isling¬
ton, let him notice the lamp-posts. Models of the heads
of oxen in iron are affixed to the upper part of the posts,
but, strange to say, they are all about as unlike oxen’s
heads as it is possible to imagine. The reason is, I sup¬
pose, that in this neighbourhood an ox is rarely seen, and
the artist had no opportunity of studying a living animal,
from which he might model. Again, in a monument
to a veterinary surgeon, I have seen a horse’s head, or
what is intended for a horse’s head ; could the poor man
come to life again, I doubt if he would recognise the
head of his favourite animal on his tomb.

Human hair is above all things best calculated for
making models of some kinds of dark-coloured snakes.
I have observed in Farrer’s shop in Regent-street, where
they work up hair into all sorts of devices, several very

172

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

good models of snakes. Black, white, and brown hair
being intermixed, give exactly the appearance of the com
mon viper. One hair snake, in particular, has its marks
perfectly correct, whether by design or accident I know
not, but there it is, a model of a viper, only unfortu¬
nately it has the ideal ‘head fashioned by an unobservant
artist. A shop close by presents some beautiful bronze
models of snakes coiled up, which, being heavy, are in¬
tended for paper-weights. These are no ideal snakes ;
they are, I am certain, casts from the original ; and I
have heard that lizards are put into plaster of Paris
alive and left to die there. When dead the plaster is put
into a furnace, and the body of the lizard being con¬
sumed is shaken out in the form of powder, through a
hole made for the purpose ; the metal is then poured in,
assuming, of course, the accurate shape of the lizard. I
have in my possession a sprig of common English
prickly furze made in this way, and also an electro¬
plated hollow model of a toad. I am certain, from
marks in the model, that the metal was deposited on the
actual body of the toad, and also that in this case the
toad was dead before operated on.

Silversmiths are not always very careful about their
models. I once saw on the top of an enormous silver
dish, intended for a haunch of venison, two deer modelled
in silver. I was sorry to see how these deer had been
imagined by the artist : their legs looked dropsical, and
their bodies like the bodies of cows, clumsy, and devoid of
that grace peculiar to the deer tribe. As an offset to
these, I have seen in Mr. Elkington’s window a beau¬
tiful bit of presentation plate, made by an artist who
took the animal itself as a model. It is a palm-tree
under which stands a giraffe. The limbs and shape of

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

173

the animal are perfect, and he has hit off the great pe¬
culiarity of the giraffe, the long black prehensile tongue
Iphich the animal uses to pull down the leaves into his
mouth ; even the tongue itself is a perfect model of
nature. Quaere. Were giraffes ever used as beasts of
burden? I have seen an ancient picture in the palace
of the Luxembourg, where a giraffe is represented being
led by a man, and upon its back is a package fastened
with ropes.

I have also seen a pretty idea ; viz., the model of the
merrythought bone of a bird made in gold with a pin
attached to it so as to form a brooch. In Mr. Han¬
cock’s shop, too, is a capital group in silver, of the death
of a fox. It was made as a testimonial to Lord Forrester
by the members of the Belvoir Hunt ; it represents an
incident that really took place. A fox had given the
hounds a remarkably long run, and at last escaped into
a tree. The whipper-in got up the tree, and succeeded in
driving the fox down, not, however, to be killed, for he
made his escape after a second severe gallop. The
horsemen, horses, and hounds are all perfect ; so also is
the fox, who is up in a tree concealing himself behind a
branch. The head, with the expression peculiar to a fox,
has been hit off exactly by the artist.

Lastly, in the city — a very proper place for it — I have
seen a capital silver soup tureen in the shape of a turtle.
The great sprawling silver turtle is placed on the table,
his carapace, or upper shell is lifted off, and his body is
found to contain soup fit for Jove himself.

Nature, frequently prone to produce in inanimate
substances models of her own living creations, has pro¬
duced a plant that resembles a snake in a most remark¬
able manner. Some four years ago I received a draw-

174

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

ing, said to be that of a cauliflower, from a gentleman
who kindly forwarded it to me. The history of this cau¬
liflower accompanied it ; it is as follows : — ‘ Sitting one
day, in the year 1848, in the Palazzo Buttera in Palermo,
which opened upon the orangery, a lady walking there
exclaimed that a snake was in her path. We rushed to
the rescue, and killed the snake as it retreated upon a bed
of small cauliflowers. Its head was beaten into the earth
beside one of them, which was injured thereby, but we
heaped the earth again round its roots, and so covered
the snake. Two years afterwards, I saw, in the same
apartment, a large glass with something indescribable
floating in it, when the same lady said, £‘ Don’t you re¬
member, when you were last here, killing a snake in the
garden ? that is the cauliflower at whose roots you
smashed its head, and there you see the snake almost as
you left it, and in its natural colour, but found trans¬
formed into the vegetable substance of the plant. We
watched its marvellous growth, and then preserved it in
spirits, after an artist had made an accurate drawing of
it.” ’

I confess I was surprised at the story, and put the
drawing away: but a few days ago, passing through
Covent Garden, I suddenly found the explanation of
this extraordinary phenomenon. Growing in a pot was
the fellow specimen to the Palermo snake cauliflower,
and this a simple house-leek ( Sedum Commune ), which
in certain stages of its growth remarkably resembles a
snake ; but consider for a moment, how is it possible
that a snake should be converted into a vegetable
substance such as the cauliflower? for where did the
bones of the snake go to ? where the skin ? how could
a cauliflower mould itself into the narrow skin of a snake

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

175

which had not even an opening in it, and which would,
under an Italian sun, become decomposed in a few hours ?
There is, however, a genuine case of a living creature
becoming converted into a vegetable. It occurs in a
caterpillar that lives in New Zealand and in Australia.
There are several specimens at the College of Surgeons.
We see a caterpillar as hard as if it was carved out of
wood ; and from it is growing a long stem. The history
of it is as follows. The caterpillar eats a fungus, or the
sporules of a fungus, and these immediately begin to grow
in its inside. The beast feels uncomfortable, and possibly
thinking it is going to turn into a chrysalis, buries itself
in the ground, and there dies. The fungus goes on grow¬
ing and absorbing the entire contents of the skin, taking
the exact form of the creature. Having done this it
throws out a shoot, and this always at a certain fixed
spot, namely at the joint at the back of the head. My
friend Mr. Quekett has kindly shown me many speci¬
mens, and has explained them to me. This caterpillar
is found also in China, where it is used as food.

A most marvellous snake was brought to the village of
Islip, my father’s parsonage, for exhibition, the charge for
seeing it was one penny. The handbill was as follows :

4 To the lovers of natural curiosities. Just arrived,
one of the largest Hottentot adders ever brought into
England, being one of the most curious species in nature,
A native of the Hottentot country, and that quarter of
the globe alone, it has been well denominated the Hot¬
tentot adder, from the fact of its being a most ferocious
animal, and attacks the poor Hottentot natives when on
their wav home from market. This singular curiositv
is upwards of three feet in length, having a very curious
tail turned round, is supplied with four feet, and on each

176

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

foot five hooks, and is beautifully scaled like a salmon.
The face resembles that of a human being-, and has a fan
under the jaw, with which it fans its victims to put them
to sleep. It was brought in a vessel to Liverpool, where
it was bought by the proprietor, who now goes round to
exhibit it to the public for their inspection.’

This Hottentot adder was a wonderfully ingenious
composition. The head was made of an eel’s skin, and
into the forehead were inserted the sharp hooked bony
spines from the back of a common skate. Two staring
glass eyes were fixed in, giving it a hideous appearance :
the mouth was made of the jaws of the skate, so com¬
mon in museums. The feet were those of a tortoise, the
tail that of a skate, covered with spines, and was ar¬
ranged in an elegant curve. The proprietor did not
seem at all awrare that his animal was not the skin of a
real creature.

One of the country folks who went to see this exhibi¬
tion, shortly afterwards, knowing that I was fond of such
things, sent me the following letter, together with a
kitten that had six legs. It is a literary curiosity.
‘Sir. I hope you will cuse the liberty in Wrighting
But By graite chance I dropped a Cross the kitm I

have sent to you. I shoed it to Mr. B - - who said

it was a good Speriment’ (experiment).

In the ‘Observer’ of January, 1852, I find the fol¬
lowing story of a ‘ Hairy Viper,’ a good pendent to the
Hottentot adder. ‘ In the Algerian paper we read that
a hairy viper was seen a few days ago near Drariah,
coiled round a tree. It resembled an enormous cater¬
pillar, and was of a brownish-red colour ; its length was
about twenty-two inches. The moment it saw that it
was observed, it glided into the brushwood, and all

THE COBKA DI CAPELLO.

177

attempts to discover it were unavailing1. The authorities
of the Museum of Natural History of Paris have sent off
orders to their agents in Algiers to get a specimen of
this viper.’

We do sometimes find real monstrosities among
snakes. As there are monstrous sheep, pigs, &c., so are
there born monstrous snakes. We have all heard of the
many-headed hydra. In the museum of the College
of Surgeons there are two specimens of real veritable
double-headed snakes. No. 264 is a little Coluber
natrix , or common English snake, about four or five
inches long. This creature has two heads, each about a
quarter of an inch long, united together at one neck.
The creature must have lived some time in this condition
for, from its appearance, I should consider it to be three
or four months old. I should be curious to know if it
has a double gullet. Alongside this preparation is ano¬
ther of a double-headed snake, and one description will
answer for both. Coming out of the College I saw in
a shop- window an advertisement of a play about to be
acted, entitled 6 Two Heads Better than One.’ I won¬
der if the author took the double-headed snakes for his
theme.

Curiously enough, not far from the place where the
bottles stand in the College containing the above-men¬
tioned creatures, is the double skull of a child, the
upper head being placed upon and inserted into the
lower one. The label on this head states that the child
was born of native parents in Bengal in 1783, and
that it lived to the age of four years. It is an odd
coincidence that the label states that the child did not
die from natural causes, but from the bite of a cobra m
capello.

178

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

There are certain anatomical distinctions which are
well marked, especially as regards the teeth, by which
we may at once pronounce whether a snake is poi¬
sonous or not. It would be a dangerous undertaking
to examine these teeth in the living subject ; let us,
therefore, adjourn to the museum of the Royal College
of Surgeons, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and examine
with safety the apparatus which the omniscient Creator
has given to the class of snakes to enable them to
procure their food.

Let us first direct our attention to the skull of the
non-venomous snakes, and take for our example the
Python, or boa-constrictor, of which we shall find a
most beautiful skeleton in the splendid new room of the
museum. If we examine the conformation of the head,
we shall find that the bones of which it is composed
instead of being locked together, as in mammalia, are
separate, and retained in their places only by skin and
ligaments. The lower jaw is composed of two separate
portions, united at what we should call the chin, not by
bone, but by a lax membrane. By the above arrangement
it follows that, literally, the whole head is capable of
enormous distension, and of admitting a body which,
apparently, it would by any mechanical means be im¬
possible to stuff in without killing the snake. Between
the lower jaw and the upper jaw we do not find, as in our
own heads, and the heads of other animals, a e single ’
joint straitened and confined in its movement : but to
enable the under jaw to be extended to a very great
extent, so that the snake shall swallow its prey with
ease to itself, an extra bone is inserted between the
head and the lower jaw, and thus the ‘ gape ’ of the
snake becomes incredibly large,

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

179

The teeth in the tribe of non-venomous snakes are
arranged in four rows in the upper jaws ; two cor¬
responding to the rows of teeth in man, two fixed on the
palate. These teeth are imperforate, that is, they have
no hole piercing them, as in the case of the cobra di
capello, presently to be described.

In the boa, the teeth are directed backwards, in such
a manner, that, should anything once get into this trap,
it would with difficulty be got out again. This was
well illustrated in the case of the boa who, the other
day, most unserpent-like (for they are the emblems of
wisdom among many nations) swallowed the blanket at
the Zoological Gardens, thinking, no doubt, that it was
a particularly hairy goat. The teeth being directed
backwards, the poor beast was obliged to swallow it, in
order, as he foolishly thought, to get rid of it. After it
had remained in his stomach some time, it was vomited
up again ; but this time it could pass the barricade of
teeth, for it was thickly covered with a layer of mucus,
and tightly twisted together by the vain attempts of the
muscles of the stomach to digest it.

The same arrangement of the teeth, pointing back¬
wards, prevails in the mouth of the common pike. The
following story will illustrate its action.

When at Oxford, I had in my rooms the dried head
of a very large pike, captured in Holland and sold
at Hungerford Market. It was kept underneath a
book-case. One evening, while reading, I was much
surprised, and rather alarmed, to see this monstrous
head roll out spontaneously from under the book-case,
and tumble along the floor ; at the same time piteous
cries of distress issued from it. The head must be
bewitched, thought I ; but I must find out the cause*

180

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

Accordingly, I took it up, when, lo and behold ! inside
was a poor little tame guinea-pig, which was a pet, and
allowed to run with two companions about the room. *
With an unsuspecting curiosity Master Guinea-pig had
crept into the dried expanded jaws of the monster,
intending, no doubt, to take up his abode there for the
night. In endeavouring to get out again he found
himself literally hooked. Being a classical guinea-pig
he might have construed 4 Facilis descensus Averni ; it
is an easy thing to get down a jack’s mouth ; 1 Sed
revocare gradum,’ &c., but it is a deuced hard job to
get out again.

In vain did the poor creature cry and push with all
his might backwards ; the more he tried, the faster the
teeth stuck into his devoted hide. What was the
remedy? I could not get him out the way he got in,
that was certain ; he must be made to go forwards. I
accordingly cut away some of the gills that were left
dried on the head, and poking and pinching him a tergo ,
made him come out at the hole where the gullet ought to
have been, but, luckily for the guinea-pig, was not.
He must have told his two companions of his night’s
adventure, for although the head was again put on the
ground, they never attempted to repeat the experiment
of their companion.

To illustrate this point further ; — I recollect hearing of
a large, hungry boa-constrictor at the Surrey Zoological
Gardens seizing the hand of the keeper, who was clean¬
ing out his cage. The snake would have twined his
folds round the man’s body had he not wisely withdrawn
his arm, still however, in the snake’s mouth, and shut
2he glass door on the snake’s neck, thus preventing the
body, the dangerous part of the boa — who kill their prey

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

181

by crushing and not by biting — from doing him any
harm. It was only with the greatest care, and by
means of wedges of wood, that the hand was extracted
from the snake’s mouth. It was, however, fearfully la¬
cerated.

I find, in reference to this subject, a manuscript note, to
the following effect : it is dated 4 The Tower of London,
March, 1825,’ and is addressed to my father.

4 I am sorry to say the calls of hunger made it neces¬
sary to feed some of the snakes this morning, but I have
desired the keeper to keep back the rest until Saturday,
for you at three o’clock. A few days since the largest
snake was so hungry that when the keeper went near his
cage with a fowl in his hand, the animal darted at the
bird, but, missing his aim, seized the keeper’s hand, and
before he could extricate himself the snake wound round
his neck, arm, and body, and threw him on the floor, so
as to render him quite helpless. It was with the utmost
difficulty that two other keepers got the animal off,
which was only effected at last by breaking some of his
teeth in the hand of the keeper.’

Be it known to any person to whose lot it should fall
to rescue a person from the crushing folds of a boa-con¬
strictor, that it is no use pulling and hauling at the centre
of the brute’s body ; catch hold of the tip of his tail, — he
then can be easily unwound, — he cannot help himself ; —
he 4 must ’ come off. Again, if you wish to kill a snake, it
is no use hitting and trying to crush his head. The bones
of the head are composed of the densest material, afford¬
ing effectual protection to the brain underneath ; a wise
provision for the animal’s preservation ; for, were his
skull brittle, his habit of crawling on the ground would
render it very liable to be fractured. The spinal cord

182

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

runs down the entire length of the body ; this being
wounded, the animal is disabled or killed instanter. Strike,
therefore, his tail and not his head ; for at his tail the
spinal cord is but thinly covered with bone, and suffers
readily from injury. This practice is applicable to eels.
If you want to kill an eel, it is not much use belabouring
his head : strike, however, his tail two or three times
against any hard substance and he is quickly dead.

In the two stories above mentioned we see that the
boa was both ready and willing to eat the man if he
could. The following passage quoted from a wonder¬
fully entertaining book, 1 Twenty Tears in the Philip¬
pines, by M. Gironiere,’ shows that boas do sometimes
succeed in actually swallowing1 men — a dreadful death
for a human being. ‘ A criminal hid from justice in a
cavern ; his father, who alone knew of his hiding-place,
went sometimes to see him and to take him rice. One
day he found, instead of hi^son, an enormous boa asleep.
He killed it and found his son’s body in his stomach.
The priest of the village who went to give the body
Christian burial, and who saw the remains of the boa,
described it to me as of almost incredible size. Many
other similar facts were told me by the Indians. They
told me of men who, whilst passing through the forests,
had been seized by a boa, crushed against a tree, and
afterwards devoured. It is not surprising that a serpent
that, can swallow a deer can swallow a man.’ In refer¬
ence to the crushing power of the boa, I find the follow¬
ing note : ‘ Mr. Wise says, that when at anchor on the
coast of Ceylon, a python slid along the cable and
entered the mate’s cabin. When perceived, some of the
crew threw a noose of rope round it, but it contrived to
turn itself round a butt of water. By fixing a rope to a

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

183

pulley, they, with infinite difficulty, disengaged it from
the butt, but not until it had so compressed it that the
hoops from the middle sunk to the bottom.’ Snakes
are sometimes cannibals, and devour one another.
I went one wet day to the Zoological Gardens, when I
knew there would be few visitors about, and the ani¬
mals, not having their attention distracted by the
curious, would relapse more into their natural state
than when disturbed by moving about. When I came
to one of the cages in the snake-house, I found it con¬
tained many harmless snakes of the common English
kind (those with a yellow ring round their neck), and
also about an equal number of the French common
snakes. One of the English snakes, I found, was mur¬
dering a Frenchman, or at least trying so to do ; for in
the centre of the cage there he lay with his body enor¬
mously distended and half another snake down his
throat. How he managed to catch the Frenchman by
the head I know not, but certain it was the head had
gone down foremost : the teeth in the jaws of the English
snake, which project backwards, sticking into the scales
of the victim, prevented his retreat. I watched them.
Every now and then the English snake gave a g^P, and
down went a bit more of his living dinner. The dinner
did not seem to relish the dark hole he had got into, for
at the same time he generally gave a wriggle and a
twist, as though anxious to escape, a foolish move, for it
only helped his downward passage. This went on for
some minutes, the Frenchman gradually disappearing
inside the Englishman, till at last more than half was
swallowed and the swallower became enormously dilated.
I then called the keeper, who took the English snake by
the tail and gave him two or three good shakings, hit-

184

'THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

ting him, at the same time, gently against the wall, as if
to loosen the contents of his abdomen. The French
snake, finding deliverance was at hand, began to coil
about, till at last out he fell on the floor, again restored
to daylight. He seemed rather stupid, but otherwise
none the worse for his trip down what the children call
‘ the red lane ’ of his English brother snake. The can¬
nibal, disappointed in his wicked deeds, when put into
the cage, glided about with head erect, hissing, and
putting out his tongue, apparently in a great rage at
having been interfered with. The French snake slunk
under some carpet that was in the cage, not wishing to
repeat the experiment. It is remarkable that the snake
swallowed was about the same size as that of the swal¬
lower.

Boa-constrictors will also swallow boa-constrictors.

On the 21st of March, 1841, a python, nine feet long,
swallowed his living companion of eight feet, both
being apparently in the same state of health. When the
keeper made his morning visit he saw but one in
the box, and ‘ lie’ was distended for about a yard beyond
the head to treble his ordinary dimensions, having
doubled up his victim in the gullet. In the course of
the week much copros was ejected, of which I have a fine
specimen, containing scales and small bones of the one
swallowed ; it illustrates the case of the coprolites with
scales from fishes.

Snakes sometimes miscalculate the stretching powers
of their stomachs, and swallow not only more than is
good for them but even so much that they actually burst
from repletion. In the museum of the Royal College of
Surgeons are three preparations illustrating this point,
viz. No. 308, a small snake from Demerara, with the

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

185

stomach exposed, which contains a fish, the diameter of
which equals the ordinary breadth of the snake ilself.
The tail of the snake is rounded and slender, showing it
to be a land species, which, occasionally at least, seeks
its food in the water. Again, preparation 508 B. A
small snake with the stomach exposed, showing a rodent
quadruped more than twice the size of the snake itself.
The skin of the muzzle has been lacerated where the ani¬
mal was seized by the snake. Thirdly, we have a snake
with a toad projecting from an opening in the belly. I
have read somewhere of a boa-constrictor who was found
dead having swallowed a goat ; the horns of the goat
had not been digested and had ulcerated a hole through
its side, thus killing it. This story reminds me of the
Esquimaux plan of catching Polar bears. A bit of
strong whalebone is coiled up and inserted into the
centre of a bit of whale’s fat and left in the bear’s track :
the bear swallows it. The fat soon becomes dissolved,
and the whalebone springing out straight in the sto¬
mach, ultimately destroys the unfortunate auimal !

We now come to the poisonous class of snakes, and
I will say a few words regarding the venom apparatus
as developed in this class. There are, I believe, many
persons, who, not having paid much attention to the sub¬
ject, imagine that the snake stings with his tongue. The
real fact is, that no snake ever stung anybody, for he
has no sting ; a wasp, a bee, and a scorpion, may be said
to sting, but a snake can only be said to bite. The one
class has stings, properly so called, the other simply teeth.
Both the sting and the teeth can only be regarded as
transmitters of the poison from the gland above. This
difference, also, is to be remarked, that stings, properly
so called, are generally situated in the tail of the crea*

186

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

tare, whereas the serpent is to be dreaded, not on
account of the sting- in his tail, for he has none there,
but for the teeth in his mouth.

In Holy Writ, however, we find both words men¬
tioned as regards snakes ; for example, they occur side
by side in the following passage in Proverbs: ‘ At last
it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.’

Johnson defines the word ‘sting,’ as ‘to wound or
pierce with a point darted out, as that of wasps or scor¬
pions.’ Being further inquisitive on this point, 1 con¬
sulted a learned friend, deeply versed in classical
criticism, upon the true meaning of the word ‘ sting.’
He kindly gave me the following information : ‘ The
word translated in our version “ stingeth,” is met with
nowhere else. It may, to a certain extent, be explained
by its Syriac and Arabic kindred roots ; and they convey
the meaning of “ puncturing,” “ slitting,” or “piercing,”
so as to cause an open wound ; and hence, in a secondary
sense, we get the notion of “ spreading,” “ diffusing,”
and such like words, evidently drawing their meaning
from the natural results of such piercing, &c. And it
must be, I think, from this manner of construing the
Hebrew word, that we find the text Proverbs xxiii. 32,
construed into the Latin words, “ Sicut regulus diffun-
det venena.” Moreover, our word “ sting,” is directly
derived from the Anglo-Saxon word Styng-an , which
means to pierce or puncture, without any reference to
head, tail, tongue, or any other corporeal part what¬
ever.’

The scorpion is a beast that really stings. He carries
his weapon, as is well known, at the end of his tail. The
last joint of his tail is hollowed out, and contains two
little white glands that entirely fill the cavity. These

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

187

glands secrete the poison, and it is conveyed into the body
of its enemy by means of a curved, sharp-pointed, horny
sting, which he brandishes about at the end of his long
and elastic tail. With his sting the scorpion becomes a
formidable beast. Luckily, however, his poison is not so
dangerous in its effects as the poison of snakes. It is a
curious fact that, although the scorpion secretes poison
from, his body, yet if that poison be introduced through
a wound into his body, or into the body of another scor¬
pion, it will prove fatal. This same fact holds good, I
believe, as regards snakes. If a snake be made to bite
himself, he will die from his own poison. I have an
extract from an African traveller, who writes that his
native staff, wishing for amusement, and knowing the na¬
tural pugnacity of scorpions, got a couple and put them
into a hole whence there was no escape. They set to
work fighting directly, seizing each other by their claws,
and endeavouring to strike with the poisonous tail : at
last one got a chance, and with a vigorous lunge stung
his adversary. The wounded scorpion, as if aware of the
fatality of the wound, resisted no more, but lay down till
he expired. The victor, couscious of the fatality of the
sting, gave himself no further trouble. The scorpion has
been picked out of the numerous creatures which live
on the face of the earth to figure among the signs of the
zodiac. Virgil, in his flattering address to Maecenas (see
Geo. I.) proposes to make a constellation of him, and sug¬
gests, as a good place, that next to the scorpion. He is

‘ Ipse tibi jam brachia contrahet ardens
Scorpius, et coeli justa plus parte reliquit.*

* ‘ Where in the void of heaven a space is free
Betwixt the scorpion and the maid for thee,

The scorpion, ready to receive thy laws,

Yields half his region, and contracts his claws. — Dryden,

188

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

wise in advising- his patron to give the scorpion a wide
berth.

In India, scorpions are naturally fond of secreting
themselves in holes, and have a nasty habit of getting
into Wellington boots. One day an officer was put¬
ting on his boot. He felt something in it, and thinking
it was a scorpion, he pulled it on instantly and stamped
violently on the floor, thus killing the scorpion. He
narrated this at mess. A few days afterwards another
officer was pulling on his boot, when he, too, felt some¬
thing in the boot. Recollecting the scorpion story, he
thought he could not do better than stamp his foot
down also in the boot. He did so, but the experiment did
not succeed, as there was no scorpion this time, but a
regimental spur with the rowel upwards.

Centipedes also have an apparatus for inflicting a poi¬
son wound, but their weapon is neither the sting in the
tail nor the tooth in the head. Having so many legs,
the pair which are next to the head are adapted to this
purpose. They are largely developed, and being curved
inwards towards each other, look not unlike two scorpion,
stings facing each other. Colonel De Bathe, of the Scots
Fusilier Guards, tells me that when encamped before
Sevastopol he kept a great many chickens, but he found
that his chickens used to die in the most unaccountable
manner. One day, however, the mystery was explained,
for he saw an old hen running about with a centipede
fastened on to her neck : the brute had got tight hold,
and had evidently fixed his poison-claws into her flesh.
It appeared that the chickens wandering about, pecked at
the centipedes, taking them, probably, for large caterpil¬
lars, thereby losing their lives. The sting of the bee,
again, is peculiar : it consists of ‘ a horny scabbard, which

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189

contains two bearded darts. This sheath ends in a point
near the extremity through which, at the time of sting¬
ing, these two bearded darts are protruded. One is a little
longer than the other, and fixes itself first, but the other
follows immediately afterwards. They penetrate alter¬
nately deeper and deeper, taking hold of the flesh with
their beards till the whole sting becomes buried in the
wound, and then a venomous juice is injected through
the same sheath from a little bag at the root of the
sting.’ — Cat. Royal College of Surgeons. *

As regards the subject of stings, I must not omit to
mention the very peculiar poison apparatus which is
found in that most remarkable of Australian animals, the
Platypus, of the existence of which some of my readers
may not be aware. The male animal has a gland
on the back part of the thigh, communicating, by means
of a duct, with a sharp spur, very like a cock’s spur.
This spur is perforate like the cobra’s tooth, and the
secretion of the gland, doubtless poisonous, is thus
transmitted into the wound formed by the spur.

The tongue of the snake is generally imagined to be
his sting ; it is not really so. It appears to be con¬
cerned in the function of voice, that is to say, hissing :
it also acts as a sort of intimidation to its aggressors,
for the snake generally puts out his vibrating tongue
and hisses at the same time. This performance alone
would make nine people out of ten run away. Upon exa¬
mining the tongue carefully, we find that it is long, moist,
deeply forked, not into three parts, but into two only, and
capable of being moved in all directions. When with-

* A good drawing of this may be seen in the South Ken¬
sington Museum.

190

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

drawn it is received into a sheath, which can either be
elongated or contracted. Ovid has observed this bifid
form of the snake’s tongue. Cadmus, he informs us,
was changed into a snake, and during the transforma¬
tion he endeavoured to speak. In this he singularly
failed, because —

‘ Lingua repente
In partes est scissa duas ;’ #

an uncomfortable sensation, I should think, for poor
Cadmus.

Shakspeare uses the word ‘ sting ’ frequently as re¬
gards snakes. He was a good observer of nature, and
therefore probably used it in a poetical sense. This,
however, has doubtless led many persons into the belief
that snakes really do sting, and thus the popular error
is partially accounted for. I subjoin two passages from
his writings. The first is certai nly very much calculated
to mislead ; it is —

‘ For never tongue

Than thine, thou adder, more severely stung.'

Again, in Hamlet, the Ghost says —

‘ Now, Hamlet, hear:

’Tis. given out, that, sleeping in my orchard,

A serpent stung me.’

Sophocles, however, says nothing about stinging in
his play of ‘ Philoctetes he plainly writes it other¬
wise —

’ Aypla

T^offcp KaTCMpOlvovTa, rijs avSpo(p6dpov
HXri'yevT ex'L^urls p'LV XaP“7Atcm-t

* ‘ His tongue was immediately cleft into two halves.’

t ‘ Me brought to naught by a cruel disease, and wounded be
the malignant bite (xaPa7lxa’ any mark, engraved, printed.) of a
vioer ’

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

191

The snake, therefore, has no sting- ; his tongue is
harmless, but his teeth are to be feared. Let us say a
little more about them. On examining the skull of a
venomous snake, vve shall find an arrangement of teeth
prevailing, different from that above described as peculiar
to the harmless tribes. Instead of a long row of im¬
perforate teeth on each side of the mouth, we shall find
two teeth only, and these fixed at the extremity of the
upper jaw. The arrangement of the palatal teeth, and
of those in the under jaw, is the same in both classes.
The reason why this row of numerous teeth exists in the
one class, and is represented by two only in the other,
becomes obvious, when we consider the way in which they
severally secure their prey. The non-poisonous snake
literally catches his victim, and entangles him in his
teeth ; whereas the poisonous snake gives a dart, inflicts
the wound, and waits quietly till the poison has done its
work.

The teeth of the snake are not alwavs found in its
mouth. There is a snake in Africa that lives upon the
eggs of birds, which he purloins out of the nests. This
snake has no teeth proper in its mouth ; if he had, they
would be much in his way, for they would break the egg
when he caught hold of it. Instead, then, of teeth in his
mouth, he has them in his belly ; and they are formed in
a very curious manner. Certain little bits of bone, parts
of the vertebra, are made to perform the function of teeth :
they project one from the centre of each vertebra. The
ten next to the mouth point in a forward direction, the
last ten backward. The ends of these bits of bone
go through the wall of the stomach, and then become
covered with enamel like real teeth ; so that, on looking
into the stomach, a row apparently of real teeth is seen

192

THE COBRA Dl CAPELLO.

at its back part. The egg1, when swallowed by the snake,
goes down into the stomach, and there meeting with
the teeth, is broken against them by the pressure of the
walls of the stomach. The contents of the egg being
thus broken cannot escape; had there been teeth in the
mouth the egg would have broken there, and most of
the fluid contents been lost, A preparation exhibiting
this structure is in the College of Surgeons, No. 638.
It was presented by Dr. Andrew Smith, the present
Director-general of the Army Medical Department.

The details of the poison-fangs are so well marked in
the subject of this article, the cobra di capello, that I
will here describe the mechanism as found in that
reptile, and u hich will apply equally to the wThole class
of which it forms a well-marked example.

The remark of Horace will well apply to this case,
that a thing seen by the eyes is better understood than
by the most lucid description in words. He says : —

‘ Segnius irritant animos dimissa per aures,

Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus.’*

I would therefore advise my readers, who wish to
understand these fearful weapons, to pay a visit to the
College of S ugeons — a visit which will well repay
their trouble.

In the beautifully-dissected head of the cobra in that
Museum, No. 2164, we shall find a fine specimen of
these poisonous teeth. It requires rather a careful
examination at first to see these poison-fangs at all, for

* ‘ What we hear,

With weaker passion will affect the heart

Than when the faithful eye beholds the part.’ — Francis.

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

193

they lie, when in a quiescent state, quite parallel to the
jaw, concealed in a fold of the gum, which forms a case
for them, protecting their sharp points from injury, and
preventing them from impeding the passage of food
down the throat. Their habitual position is recumbent,
protected by a scabbard, if I may use a metaphorical
term. We will now remove the sheath, and expose the
fangs themselves. In the preparation above mentioned
the largest tooth on each side is nearly half an inch long,
and the second behind is nearly the same length. If
we gently move these teeth when in situ , we shall find
that they are fixed firmly and immovably into a distinct
bone ; they therefore follow its movements, and can¬
not, as is often imagined, move independently. By a
peculiar and very beautiful arrangement of the bones
and muscles about the head, this bone, with the teeth
attached, either lies at rest or is raised instantly into an
erect position ready for action ; suffice it to say, that its
action is very like that seen in the lock of a gun, and
that the snake, in opening its mouth preparatory to
striking, as a mechanical necessity elevates its fang
into the most favourable position for inflicting the
blow.

In a preparation near the former, we see the teeth
separated from all other surrounding parts, and also in
a dried preparation of the skin, with head attached, of
a cobra killed in India, and presented to the College by
a gentleman formerly resident there. He had seen the
brute for several days about his premises, but had been
unable to kill it ; he was, in consequence, obliged to
have wire blinds with thin meshes put on all his win¬
dows, fearing that the snake might crawl up the ivy
surrounding the house and get into some one of the

o

194

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

rooms. He at last caught him asleep under a tree, and
sent him to the museum. The teeth of this snake are
remarkably large and well developed, the largest tooth
being nearly an inch long : no wonder he was a cause
of alarm to those who knew he was about the premises.

We find, on examining this preparation, that, running
down the outer side of each poison- tooth, is a canal
large enough to admit a pig’s bristle. The upper open¬
ing of this duct is connected closely with the duct or
pipe which conveys the poison from the gland secreting
it. The lower aperture is oblique, presenting the form
of a narrow elliptical fissure, and is situated at a short
distance from the point of the fang. It follows, there¬
fore, that this tooth performs the office of a dagger. It
makes an aperture in the flesh of the victim struck, and,
while fixed there, the poison is injected through the
tooth into the wound, thus ready made for its recep¬
tion.

The poison itself is secreted by a large gland which
occupies nearly the whole of the posterior part of the
head ; it seems to be simply analogous to the salivary
glands found in mammalia, and the secretion is carried
on in the same manner. This gland has the pecu¬
liarity, however, that it is covered by a strong layer
of muscles which, on the snake’s opening his mouth,
firmly compresses its substance, and forces the poisonous
contents out into the wound through the perforated
teeth. I have myself made two or three dissections of
this muscular covering, in snakes taken out of spirits.
Though easily explained when before the eyes, it is dif¬
ficult to describe. I find in the 4 Tasmanian Journal/
1844, a paper on the teeth and poison-apparatus of snakes,
by Dr. J. Agnew, who had many opportunities of

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

195

dissecting fresh specimens of snakes. He has very
neatly described this muscular coat in the following
words : —

‘ The provision made by nature for forcing the poison
out of the gland is at once simple, elegant, and effec¬
tual. It consists in a single muscle which rises from a
ridge of bone, that sweeps in a slightly-curved line from
behind the orbit of the eye in front to the back part of
the skull. The anterior fibres of the muscle descend
downwards, and somewhat backwards, and are inserted
along the upper margin of the gland ; whilst the pos¬
terior fibres, describing a considerable circuit, sweep
round the gland behind to become inserted into its pos¬
terior surface or base. When all these fibres, therefore,
act in unison, they must necessarily press the gland
from behind forwards, and thus force the contents into
the duct, to be thence conveyed to the tubulated fang.
The compressor , or ejaculator of the gland would, there¬
fore, be an appropriate name for the muscle.5

I learn from another quarter that, when the snake is
about to bite, and is irritated at the anticipation of
wounding its prey, these muscular fibres can be seen
contracting and expanding with a wave-like motion.

If we examine some of the poison itself, we shall find
it to be a transparent fluid, of a yellowish colour, of
about the same consistency as the human saliva : it has
a sharp taste but no odour.

I have had the opportunity of examining some recent
poison from the head of a large puff-adder, one of the most
poisonous of snakes. It had been dead about four days.
Upon turning up the pouch or fold of gum by which
the poison-fangs are covered when in a quiescent state, I
discovered a quantity of this thick yellowish poison

o 2

196

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

saliva. This saliva I placed under the microscope ; it
revealed a few fine spicula or hair-like crystals, and
which, as the fluid containing them dried, became more
apparent. I then made a section of the duct, but
the spicula were fewer in number. Anxious to
obtain more perfect specimens, I examined the tooth
itself, and in the hollow was a firm white-looking
substance, easily pushed out by means of a bristle :
this proved to be, as it were, concentrated essence of
poison, for it consisted of one mass of the most
beautiful spicula. They were scattered about in all
positions, and at all angles one with the other. In
one or two places I saw bundles of them tied together
in the centre as it were by a cord. There is a com¬
mon mode in London of darkening shop windows on
the inside, not by painting them with white paint, but
by covering them on the inner side with a mass of
the most beautiful crystals. These are made by washing
the glass with a ‘ saturated ’ solution of sulphate of
magnesia or Epsom salts. Having the appearance of
the snake’s poison in my eye, I happened to pass one
of the windows so operated on. The resemblance
between the two was very remarkable, so that if my
reader wishes to have an idea of the poison under the
microscope, let him notice the next £ salted ’ window
he passes.

Dr. Mead, who wrote a treatise on poisons in 1745,
also observed these crystals. He writes : — ‘ I have often¬
times, by holding a viper advantageously, and enraging
it till it struck out its teeth, made it to bite upon some¬
what solid, so as to avoid its poison, which, carefully
putting upon a glass plate, I have with a microscope, as
nicely as I could, viewed its parts and composition.

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO

197

Upon the first sight I could discover nothing but a
parcel of small salts, nimbly floating in the liquor, but
in a very short time these saline particles were now shot
out as it were into crystals of an incredible tenuity and
sharpness, with something like knots here and there,
from which they seemed to proceed.’ These crystals
can, I believe, be seen also in the poison from a bee’s
sting.

These preparations of snakes’ poison were carefully
mounted for me by my brother, as microscopic objects,
both in a wet and dry state ; but in a few days the
crystals had quite disappeared.

Wishing to try whether the poison of this puff-adder
still retained its virulent power after the death of the
animal, I inoculated both a sparrow and a guinea-pig
with it. I obtained the poison from three places — from
under the sheath which covers the teeth, from the duct,
and from the gland itself. The guinea-pig was fairly
inoculated with poison from all three places, but
beyond a slight difficulty in breathing, it did not seem
to suffer in the least. The sparrow was killed by the
poison from the tooth sheath, but remained alive nearly
twenty minutes after the first dose. It is not impossible
that the poison had lost much of its power in conse¬
quence of the progress of putrefaction, for I received
the snake in very hot weather, and decomposition had
already begun in the body : the poison also might have
been partially decomposed, and have thus lost its
deadly properties. If the poison had been taken from
the tooth immediately on the death of the animal, and
had been dried, the results to the guinea-pig would
probably have been fatal ; for Dr. Christison dissolved
a grain and a half of it in ten drops of water, and

198

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO

introduced it under the skin of a rabbit; in twenty-
seven minutes the poor beast was dead.

Mr. Stone, of the College of Surgeons, happening to
have some arrows, the tips of which were covered with
wourali poison, made so famous by Mr. Waterton’s
experiments, kindly presented me with some of them,
and also a bit of the poison itself, in a lump looking
like a bit of pitch. I bought a bird, a thrush, in St.
Martin’s lane, and having made a solution of the
poison in water, placed a drop on the tip of a sharp-
pointed instrument and wounded the bird. I waited five
or ten minutes but it did not seem any the worse. I
then cut off a very small portion of skin of the bird,
and placed the poison on the muscles of the breast ; in
about three minutes the bird began to pant and open
its beak, the nictitating membrane, at the same time,
coming forward over the eye. In six minutes it
suddenly sprang up into the air and fell down dead.
This poison had been kept in the College many years,
yet it seemed not to have lost any of its efficacy. A
post-mortem examination revealed effused blood at the
point where the wound was -inflicted, as was the case
with the rat struck by the cobra (see page 225); the lungs
were not gorged with blood, but the heart was full of
thick black clots. Animals killed with the poison are
not injurious when eaten.

I have also killed frogs with wourali ; they take from
five to twenty minutes to die. I killed a rat also with
it, and continued artificial respiration for one hour and
twenty minutes. The rat so far recovered as to be able
to crawl along, but it soon afterwards died ; I had
great hopes I should have recovered it. As Mr.
Waterton mentions the fangs of snakes as forming part

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199

of the wourali poison, I placed a solution of it under
the microscope, but I could find neither traces of
powdered bone, nor of spicules peculiar to the poison
itself : it appeared to be composed of vegetable matter.

This poison would have been fatal to the animals in
a much shorter time had it been fresh instead of having
been made some thirty years ago ; even at this length
of time it preserves its fearfully poisonous powers. What
must they have been when it was freshly made !

All poisonous snakes shed their poison-fangs, but not
their other teeth ; the reason being, that often, when
they catch hold of an animal, the tooth gets broken off.
Now if another tooth did not come up in its place, the
snake would be deprived of its weapon, whether of
offence or defence. In a little bag behind the tooth
which is in working order, are other teeth in all stages
of development, from that ready to come into work to¬
morrow to that the size of a small hair. The snakes
at the Zoological Gardens frequently shed their teeth,
which are found about on the floor of the cage. Not
unfrequently, too, they get broken off when a victim is
seized, and get swallowed with that victim : they are
then passed out in the dung.

Wishing to ascertain whether these shed teeth were
poisonous, I inserted underneath the skin of a rat the
separate tooth (given me as a separate tooth), and left
it in the wound above an hour. It had no effect what¬
ever upon the rat, except to make him hungry. I did
not much expect it would have any effect, for there
were marks at the top of the tooth, showing that it had
been thrown off by absorption, and not broken cff by
violence. The tooth is simply a poison-conductor, and
if the owner had not ejected poison lately through it, it

200

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

would, of course, be as harmless as any other non-
venomous tooth.

I well recollect a story impressed upon my mind in
infancy — but I know not the origin of it, or where to
look for it — of a farmer in America having been bitten
in his boot by a snake ; he went home and died. His
son soon ‘ stepped into his father’s shoes he died also,
and, I believe, a third person also died, having worn the
boots. My interpretation of this story is, that ‘ the
boot ’ was a thin leather mocassin, as is generally worn
in America. The snake bit the farmer through the
mocassin, and the tooth being ready for shedding, was
torn out, and remained highly charged with poison,
which poison was emitted by the snake when he made
his bite. The second man put on the mocassin, thereby
receiving a slight scratch in the foot. He would pro¬
bably take no notice of this, but continue working ; the
heat and perspiration of the foot would then dissolve
the poison still adhering to the fang, and it would find
easy access into the body through the scratch made by
the tooth, and the man would die. This might happen
a third time, if the dose of poison on the tooth was very
strong.

In confirmation of my theory, I would adduce the fact
that vaccine matter is allowed to dry on to the tip of a
lancet. When introduced into a puncture made in the
human skin, it is found not to have lost its efficacy ;
but this vaccine matter must be fresh when first placed
on the lancet, or it will not prove to be of any use.

The Scythians must have been aware that this poison
of snakes would retain its venomous effects after it had
been taken from the animal and dried, for they were
accustomed to dip their arrows in it when re-dissolved in

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

201

water, and allow it to remain there ready for use. The
South American Indians also are aware of this fact ; for
Mr. Waterton tells us, that ‘ in preparing that most
deadly of all poisons, the “ wourali,” besides pounding
together with certain roots two species of ants — one of
which is very large and black, and so venomous that
its sting produces a fever, the other a little red ant,
which stings like a nettle — he adds the pounded fangs of
the Labarri snake, and those of the Counacouchi snake :
these he commonly has in store, for when he kills a
snake he generally extracts the fangs and keeps them
by him.’

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, with¬
out 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,
without poison on them, 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
hasten 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.

Mr. Campbell, in his travels, narrates that one of
his attendant Bushmen was shot with a poisoned arrow

202

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

between the shoulders. His head swelled up to an
enormous size, and he died with all the symptoms of
snake-poison. The arrow was probably armed with poison
extracted from the puff-adder or some other poisonous de¬
sert snake. Again, Mr.Gironiere, in his ‘Twenty Years
in the Philippines/ tells us that he paid a visit to the
Agetas or Negritos — a savage people living in a state
of nature, the true aborigines of the Philippines. He
was obliged to fly from them under a shower of poisoned
arrows. He says : ‘ On emerging from the forest I noticed
a slight scratch and a few drops of blood on the first
finger of the right hand, a scratch which I attributed to
an accident during my hasty flight : I thought no more
of it.’ The scratch, however, was determined not to be
forgotten : it soon became a serious wound, and nearly
cost Mr. Gironiere his life. Doubtless, a poisoned arrow
had just grazed his finger, and, as his body was in a
heated and excited state, had quickly been absorbed.

Sir T. Mitchell, in his interesting book, gives us direct
evidence of the Australian natives eating snakes.

I myself once had the opportunity of tasting a snake ;
a boa-constrictor had been killed by an accident, and
came into my possession. I tried the experiment, and
cooked a bit of him : it tasted very like veal, the flesh
being exceedingly white and firm. If I had had nothing
else, and could have forgotten what I was eating, I
could easily have made a dinner of it. In November,
1829, my late father, then canon of Christchurch,
met in the High-street, Oxford, Black Will — who was
then a celebrated coachman, and drove the ‘ Defiance’ —
carrying, not a coachman’s whip, but tugging along in
each hand a crocodile about four feet in length. Will had
bought them on speculation in London, and my father

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203

purchased them from him. The first thing he did was to
prove (which he never doubted) the possibility of
turning the crocodile’s fore legs backwards, so as to
make a sort of bridle, thus confirming, if indeed it
required confirmation, that a crocodile could be so
treated. Both the crocodiles were put into hot water :
one died in the water, and the other lived but a few
hours. They were taken over to the anatomy school
at Christchurch, and dissected by the late Dr. Kidd.
Both Dr. Kidd and my father, thinking they would
never have such a good chance again, agreed that they
would taste a little bit of the crocodile, and see whether
its flesh was good or not. They did so, and without
suffering from the experiment. Many persons assisted
at this feast, and the flesh was pronounced to be
excellent, much resembling sturgeon or tunny. At
that time there lived in the anatomy school, all among
the skeletons and preparations, a very old man named
William. I don’t believe he ever had any other name,
for he was always known in Oxford as William. Now
this William was the most curious weazen old fellow
ever beheld. He wore the old-fashioned knee-breeches,
gaiters, and broad-tailed black coat. His face looked
exactly like a preparation, and on his little round head
(more like a skull than a head) he wore a very old
wig. Altogether he looked much like an injected
skeleton with clothes on ; and I confess that, when a
little boy, I had the greatest awe and respect for
William, particularly when he let down from its aerial
position the skeleton of the man who murdered the lady
at Abingdon. This skeleton had a rope attached to it,
and it was suspended high up in the air, in the centre of
the. anatomy school. It was William’s favourite lion

204

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

and when I went to see him he always let down the
skeleton to give a lecture on the beauties of anatomy,
and the atrocity of the murder. The rope was just long
enough to allow the skeleton’s feet to touch the ground,
and it used to come down thump on the floor, making
its articulated bones rattle again ; and then when on the
floor, the slightest touch would make it reel and roll
about, swinging its gaunt arms in all directions. Little
did I then think what labour was in store for me in the
shape of ( grinding at the bones’ (as studying human
osteology is called in medical-student parlance), previous
to appearing before the examiners at the Royal College
of Surgeons : — but to return to the crocodile. William,
with his hands in his pockets, watched narrowly the dis¬
section going on, and still more narrowly did he observe
the steak sent away for a gastronomic trial, resolving in
his own mind to have, as well as his master, a slice off
the crocodile. In the middle of the night there came
a furious ringing at the bell, and a messenger from the
anatomy school to say that William was dying. Poor
William was found with his wig off sitting up in his
bed with his hands to his stomach, looking the picture
of misery and ugliness. The only answer he returned
to questions was, ‘ Oh that crocodile ! oh that crocodile !’
It was soon seen what was the matter, and by proper
remedies William was cured of his crocodile. In the
morning, being now quite recovered, he confessed that,
as the gentlemen had taken home a bit of the crocodile
to eat, he did not see why he should not have some also,
so he had a bit for supper. He found it so good that he
had saved his butcher’s meat, and made a meal off it.
He declared, and I believe in all honesty, that he would
never again eat crocodile for supper. The reason why

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205

William suffered from the crocodile, and his masters
did not, was that William ate enough for five people,
and his masters merely had just tasted it for curiosity.
That crocodiles can be eaten without injurious results
is evident from the following passage from Madden’s
‘Travels in Egypt:’ ‘ I got a small portion of young
crocodile, six feet long, broiled to ascertain its
taste. The flavour a good deal resembles that of a
lobster, and, though somewhat tougher, it might cer¬
tainly be considered very excellent food.’ The most
striking peculiarity in the crocodile is its digestion. In
the one I dissected I found several pebbles in the
stomach : on each side of the fore shoulder I found a
follicle containing musk, or at least a substance which
does not differ from it in smell. One weighed two
drachms, the other something less. This, in Cairo,
fetches a large price, being used as a stimulant. In
reference to these stones the Arabs, I understand, say
that the crocodile swallows a fresh one at each birth¬
day. Mr. Quekett showed me a box full of pebbles
about the size of marbles : these are from the gizzard,
or rather from the place where the gizzard was before it
was decayed, of that most curious gigantic New Zealand
bird, the Dinormis or moa.

The cobra di capello, whose other names are the Nag,
El Haje, or Ilaje Naseler, in Arabic, has received its
name, capello, from the appearance it presents when
viewed in an irritated state, or when preparing to bite,
at which time it bends its head rather downwards, and
seems, as it were, to have a hood on. The head is com¬
paratively small, and at a slight distance behind it is a
lateral dilation or swelling of the skin. This part can be
extended at the will of the animal, and is marked by a

206

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

very large and conspicuous patch, resembling a pair of
spectacles. This is produced by a thick layer of black
pigment underneath the skin, as may be seen in a pre¬
paration at the College of Surgeons. At this same
place may be seen a beautiful skeleton of a cobra in the
act of striking, from which it will be seen that the dis¬
tension of the skin above mentioned is produced by the
ribs below the head being perfectly moveable at right
angles to the spine, so that the act of elevating the ribs
stretches out the loose skin of the neck, after the manner
of a fan.

One would think, from the following lines, that Virgil
must have seen a cobra in its well-known menacing
attitude. It is a beautiful description of a man killing
his sworn enemy, a snake ; and the very words he uses
express the haste and fright of the one, and the proud
inturgescence of the other : —

* Cape saxa manu, cape robora, pastor,
Tollentemque minas, et sibila colla tumentem
Dejice.’* Geor. iii. 421.

Our great poet, Milton, also describes this remarkable
fact, at the same time starting the supposition that, pre¬
vious to the fall, the snake

‘ Addressed his way ; not with indented wave,

Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear
Circular base of rising folds, that towered
Fold above fold a surging maze.’

* ‘ Take, shepherd, take a plant of stubborn oak,

And labour him with many a sturdy stroke;

Or with hard stones demolish from afar
His haughty crest, the seat of all the war ;

Invade his hissing throat and winding spires
Till stretch’d in length the unfolded foe retires.

He drags his tail, and for his head provides,

And in some secret cranny slowly glides.’ — Dfvpen.

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207

It has often struck me to consider a curious point as
regards the mode of progression of the serpent be¬
fore the curse was pronounced upon him. Milton, in
the above lines, tells us how this progression was, but
his description seems rather vague. We read in the
third chapter of Genesis, ‘ And the Lord God said unto
the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art
cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the
field ; upon thy belly thou shalt go, and dust shalt thou
eat all the days of thy life.’ If this passage be taken
literally, it would appear that before the curse the ser¬
pent did not go ‘ upon his belly.’

Anxious to obtain high authority on this point, I con¬
sulted a learned divine, an old and sincere friend of my
father’s, who most kindly and candidly informed me
that, having looked into commentators ancient and
modern, he could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion.

All the pre- Adamite snakes whose bones have hitherto
been discovered have certainly the same conformation of
vertebree or back bone, viz. the ball-and-socket joint,
as those of the present day ; which conformation is ex¬
pressly adapted to their moving along upon their bellies ;
and their internal organs must have necessarily been in
conformity with their vertebral structure.

If, then, the serpent before the curse progressed by
any other means than upon his belly, his structure,
especially that of the back bone, must have been dif¬
ferent to that proved to have been present by geological
researches ; in fact, it must have been a different animal
altogether.

I cannot here help quoting the following remarkable
speculative passage relative to this matter, in which I

208

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find a description of the creature called the ‘ Nahash.’
I find it in a Memoir of the Rev. Robert R. Francis
Vvralker, curate of Purleigh, Essex.

Now there was as we have already intimated, one most superior and
beautiful animal (and not improbably a whole genus or family of the
same description) among those which Jehovah- God had curiously
formed from the ground. Of the original shape or appearance of this
animal we are not now informed. The name of it, according to its
acceptation in after-times, has hitherto served rather to mislead than
to help us in this respect. The name given to it was the Nahash, a
name which seems to import that its sparkling and variegated beauty
resembled that of native copper. It is also most probable that it
walked erect. This animal then was more intelligent than any freely-
roaming animal which Jehovah-God had produced ; that is. more
intelligent than every other animal.

And now, as suddenly as Moses’ rod was changed into a real serpent,
so appears the fairest of all animals, the Nahash, to have sunk down
at this word of God, into what we henceforth behold, to wit, a ser¬
pent’s real form and real nature. The change might be as instan¬
taneous as was that of the barren fig-tree, withered by a word from
the mouth of the same Jehovah. The name of Nahash may have
been perpetuated to the race of serpents from the original name of
this animal, in natural remembrance of so momentous an occasion.

Thus the Hebrew language retains it as the common name for
serpent. The nahash may have been anything but a serpent before ;
but its excellency of dignity was now withered below that of every
other animal, by the holy curse of God.

The present appearance of serpents, therefore, can supply no adequate,
or even distinct notion, of what the Nahash originally was. If many
of the more remarkable species of them are venomous, noxious, revolt¬
ing to human instinct, and naturally, to a proverb, unsocial with
human kind, we may conclude, as we have already anticipated, that
the original qualities of the Paradisical nahash were the very opposite
of these.

He could well understand by the animal-sounding but symbolical
sentence, “ On thy belly shalt thou go,” that he himself, once tbe
soaring “ son of the morning,” was amazingly degraded into tie

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

209

meanest and most odious of reptile spirits, and should hence be
expressly called “ the ancient serpent;” that by the words, “ Dust
shalt thou eat continually ” — he, instead of enjoying those exalted and
refined pleasures which he once knew, and some shadow of which even
he, perhaps, had hitherto retained ; or instead of realizing any of the
gratifications he had sought by his subtlety, he should perpetually
meet with the reverse, as little agreeable to his strange desires as
dust to the serpent’s palate.

Upon the whole, however, it is more probable that the
curse has a figurative meaning; and that, as explained
to me by the gentleman above mentioned, the passage
may be thus paraphrased : c Thy original formation, mov¬
ing upon thy belly, shall henceforth be a mark of thy
condemnation, as it will facilitate the predicated evil,*
6 It shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.’
In a similar way the rainbow probably appeared in the
clouds to mankind before the flood ; but after the flood it
was made a ‘ token of a covenant ’ that the earth should
not again suffer from a flood. The woman, too, would
always have brought forth, but after the curse she was to
bring forth in sorrow. Upon this I would submit the
remark that the words are ‘ Unto the woman he said, I
will greatly multiply thy sorrow,’ which would give the
notion that even before the curse the sorrow was not
altogether absent.

The second part of the curse, 4 Dust shalt thou eat
all the days of thy life,’ may be said to be literally
fulfilled in the present day, even though it has (as is
most probable) a deeper figurative meaning’. That the
snake actually swallows much dust when feeding I have
frequently observed. His head being of necessity on the
ground when he gorges an animal caught on the
ground, the dust would naturally adhere to the prey as

210

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it was being gulped down. This fact was more forcibly
impressed upon my mind when, examining a box full of
the dung of many different kinds of snakes, I found
adhering to the dung, and also mingled with it, numerous
stones, from the size of a pea to fine sand, which the
snake had swallowed when gorging his prey.

These remarks upon the literal meaning of the words
quoted, I write with all deference to higher authorities
than myself : it is, however, a subject upon which
speculations may be harmlessly entertained.

Milton alluding to the cobra’s hood, says : —

‘ His head

Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes ;

With burnish’d neck of verdant gold, erect
Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass
Floated redundant.’

Further on, when the snake is leading the way to the
forbidden fruit, Milton says of him : —

* Hope elevates, and joy
Brightens his crest.’ — Paradise Lost, Book ix.

From its frequently moving along with the greater
part of its body erect, and with its head in continual
action, as if looking round with great circumspection,
this species is regarded by the East Indian as the em¬
blem of prudence, and they seldom name it without
some epithet, as ‘ royal, holy.’ The ancient Egyptians
also observing the habits of this serpent imagined that
it guarded the place it lived in ; accordingly they made
it the emblem of Cneph, the divinity whom they supposed
to govern the world (6 ayaOug calfxwv), and with this idea
represented it in their temples, sculptured on each side
of a winged globe.

THE COBRA DI OAPELLO.

211

The cobra was also employed by them as a mark of
regal dignity, and is seen on the fore part of the tiara of
almost all Egyptian statues of deities and kings, as may
be observed on the caps of Memnon and other figures in
the British Museum. We frequently see the figure of
this serpent in the hieroglyphic records of this wonder¬
ful people, where it seems to have two meanings, accord¬
ing to the bend of its body. First, it simply signifies
the form and power of the letter S ; secondly, it indi¬
cates the planets on account of the obliquity of their
course, whereas the sun is represented by a beetle.

The cobra still abounds among the rocks and ruins of
ancient Egypt, and in its native untamed state (that
is, when it still has its poison-apparatus intact) it is
regarded with well-founded dread by the inhabitants.
It is very fond of getting into houses, or rather mud-
huts, which abound in Egypt. The mud cracks with
the heat, and these cracks form convenient resorts for
the cobra’s domicile. We find a passage in the prophet
Amos that distinctly alludes to this fact : — 4 As if a man
did flee from a lion, and a bear met him ; or went into
the house, and leaned his hand on the wall, and a serpent
bit him.’ Amos v. 19.

It is nearly certain that this is the snake which tlie
ancients described under the name of Cleopatra’s asp ;
and its predecessors were probably the serpents chosen
by the magicians of Pharaoh when they imitated the
divine miracle wrought by Moses. Genesis vii. 10.

I have heard an explanation of this false miracle as
performed by Pharaoh’s magicians. They took the
snakes tight round the neck, and, by compressing the
parts with their fingers, prevented the return of blood
from the head, thus producing pressure on the brain,

r 2

212

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

and for a time insensibility. A snake thus operated on
would remain quiet some time on the ground, looking
not unlike a rod.

In the book of Numbers we read that serpents were
sent to punish the children of Israel : i And the Lord
sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the
people, and much people of Israel died.’ This took place
near Mount Hor in Arabia, and as a confirmation of
the fact, I find in Herodotus a curious passage relating
to the abundance of snakes in Arabia and the plague of
serpents. ‘ Arabia is the last inhabited country lying to
the southward, and the only region which produces frank¬
incense, myrrh, cassia, and ledenum. All these things
the Arabians gather with some difficulty, myrrh only ex¬
cepted. They collect the frankincense by burning styrax,
which the Phoenicians export into Greece; for flying
serpents, small of body and with variegated skins, guard
the frees which bear the frankincense, a great number
round each tree, &c. As for vipers, they are found in
all parts of the world ; but flying serpents are found in
thick swarms in Arabia, and nowhere else, and therefore
they appear to be very numerous.’

From our earliest infancy we have all heard of the
snake-charmers of India, who are said to handle these
venomous reptiles with impunity ; some believed it,
some did not. In the year 1850, however, the Lon¬
doners had an opportunity of seeing with their own eyes
(since the invention of the pseudoscope this, however,
has been proved a dubious test) this wonderful perform¬
ance. We have most of us seen it at the Zoological
Gardens ; but Mr. Broderip, in his ‘ Note Book of a
Naturalist,’ has so graphically described the scene, that
I may be pardoned for introducing it here. He says :

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

213

‘ Standing in the open space in the reptile- house, the
old Arab said something to the young one, who stooped
down under the reptile-cases on the north side of the
room, and took out a large deal box with a sliding
cover. Having withdrawn the cover, he thrust in his
hand and pulled out a large, long u Naia Haje.” After
handling it, and playing with it a little while, he set it
down on the floor, half squatted close to it, and fixed his
eye on the snake. The serpent instantly raised itself,
expanded its hood, and turned slowly on its own axis,
following the eye of the young Arab, turning as his
head, or eye, or body turned. Sometimes it would dart
at him, as if to bite. He exercised the most perfect
command over the animal. All this time the old Arab
stood still, passively regarding the operation ; but pre¬
sently he, too, squatted down, muttering some words
opposite to the snake. He evidently affected the reptile
more strongly than his more mercurial relative, though
he remained motionless, doing nothing that I could see
but fixing his eyes on the snake, with his face upon a
level with the raised head of the serpent, which now
turned all his attention to him, and seemed to be in a
paroxysm of rage. Suddenly it darted open-mouthed at
his face, furiously dashing its expanded whitish-edged
jaws into the dark hollow cheek of the charmer, who
still imperturbably kept his position, only smiling bit¬
terly at his excited antagonist. I was very close, and
watched very narrowly ; but though the snake dashed
at the old Arab’s face, and into it more than twice or
thrice with its mouth open, I could not see the projec¬
tion of any fang. Then the youth brought out a ce¬
rastes, which I observed seemed overpowered, as if, as
the country people say, something had come over it.

214

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

He placed it on the floor, but this serpent did not raise
itself like the naia, but as the charmer stooped to it,
moved in a very odd, agitated manner on its belly,
regarding him askance. I thought the serpent was going
to fly at him, but it did not.

‘ He then went to another box, drew the lid, and took
out more snakes, one of which was another naia, and
the others of a most venomous kind. Now there were
two naias with heads and bodies erect, obeying appa¬
rently the volition of the charmers. One of the snakes
bit the youth on the naked hand and brought the blood,
but he only spat on the wound and scratched it with his
nail, which made the blood flow more freely.

‘ I observed that the charmers only used their own
serpents, which they had, I presume, brought with
them, and I confess that the impression on my mind
was, that they had been rendered innoxious by mechani¬
cal means.’ Mr. Broderip afterwards makes this ob¬
servation : — ‘ There is no longer a shadow of doubt
that the subjects operated upon by the serpent-charmers
at the Zoological Gardens had been deprived of their
poison-fangs.’ It is therefore pretty clear that these
cobras were harmless, and that these Indian fellows,
who, as we all know, are the best conjurors in the world,
take advantage of the habits of the cobra to gain a live¬
lihood, blinding the eyes of the bystanders by telling
them that their music, such as it is, causes the snakes to
dance, and that their lives are defended from the poison
by some supernatural gift.

I must here add that no doubt these Indian gentle¬
men are up to the fact that the snake’s fangs, although
once removed, will quickly grow again, so that a snake
whose bite may be innocent to day will, in the course

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

215

of a short time, have a fresh supply of poison-fangs,
and will become a dangerous customer to handle. If I
were a snake-charmer I should look to the teeth of my
operatees every other day. I must also beg to add to Mr.
Broderip’s observations that the Arabs wore red buskins
and drawers, with the evident purpose of exciting and
teasing the snakes, who can’t bear this colour near them,
and, as in the case of the common viper, always fly at
it when brought in contact with them. Let the reader
wave a red handkerchief before the snake-cages in the
Zoological Gardens and he will, if they be in an excitable
state, see the creatures' attention immediately attracted.

Red seems either to be very attractive or else very dis¬
agreeable to most creatures. Fishermen bait for mackerel
with a bit of red cloth ; and I have read a story of a
shark having been attracted by the red frock which a
poor little child had on when playing about the sands at
the mouth of the Buffalo river. The shark had come close
to the shore to eat the entrails of an animal which had
been thrown into the sea : the brute saw the child, and
made a plunge at it, but providentially missed its aim.

I have requested a friend in India to report to me his
observations on the tame cobras. He tells me that the
men make a cut under the upper lip of the cobra they
wish to tame : they then turn up the lip and expose the
parts which secrete the poison, or rather the duct and
the reservoir for the poison just above the teeth : this
they completely eradicate with a knife, and then apply
the hot iron, effectually destroying the parts. A snake
thus operated on would be for ever afterwards harmless,
as the burnt parts could never recover themselves.

At the College of Surgeons, in the cabinet containing
the preparations of the parts of snakes, is a very inte¬
resting specimen, which fully explains, further, how these

216

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

Egyptian and other serpent-charmers tame their snakes.
It is labelled thus: — ‘ No. 651. The skull and anterior
vertebrae of a poisonous naja which had been deprived
of its fangs, together with part of the short maxillary
bone which contained their matrices. This was one of
the specimens exhibited by the snake-charmers in India.
Presented by Dr. Wallich.’*

In a pretty little paper entitled ‘ Anecdotes of Ser¬
pents,’ published by Chambers, we read the following
story, fully confirming the idea that the fangs of the
charmed snakes are removed : —

4 In Madras, while I was there,’ says a correspondent,

‘ this belief (that the charmers can handle poisonous
snakes without suffering hurt) received a sad shock by
a circumstance which occurred. One of the most noted
serpent-charmers about the district chanced one morn¬
ing 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 ex¬
tracted 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. 44 I am a dead man,” he ex¬
claimed ; 44 nothing can save me.” His professional
knowledge was but too accurate. In two hours he was
* It has been suggested to me that if the cobra be irritated
and made frequently to bite some object, just before the juggler’s
performance, the fangS, no longer supplied with poison from the
exhausted glands, would be innocuous ; I think the experiment
would be dangerous, for physiology teaches us that the secretion
from many glands, particularly the salivary, is instantaneous
under fresh excitement

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

217

a corpse. I saw him a short time after he had died ; 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 oidy 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 inter¬
fered 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 aorain.’

O

Besides showing off these tricks with the cobras, the
Egyptian mountebanks have another mode of deceiving
the spectators. There abounds in Egypt a very small,
but very venomous, snake called the cerastes, of which
there are three specimens at the Zoological Gardens.
This species of snake these men pretend to handle with
impunity, but in reality they procure from Turkey a
snake that very much resembles the Egyptian, with
this difference, that the former is perfectly harmless and
has no horns on its head, whereas the latter is very
venomous, and, as we may see at the Gardens, has a little
horn projecting on each side from the summit of the
head. The use of these horns is probably to act as a
sort of bait for small birds, who imagine them to be
worms, and thus become an easy prey to the cerastes.
Be this, however, as it may, the mountebanks place the
spurs of the common lark, or other small birds, on the
head of the harmless Turkish cerastes, and handle it as
though it were a true native of the Egyptian desert.

There remains, however, another, and that an impor¬
tant 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 ser¬
pent ? It is within the bounds of possibility (may it not

218

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

he so ?) that the reader of these pages may be so un¬
fortunate 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 at the same time be taken
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.

M. Humboldt has observed that in some experiments
performed with the poison of vipers, one person swal¬
lowed the whole of the poison that could be extracted
from four large Italian vipers, without suffering from it.
In the same way, the poison from the poisoned arrows
of the South American Indians can be swallowed with¬
out deleterious consequences, provided always that
there is no wound on the lips, then it would be
fatal. Writing on this point, Fontana, who in 1737
published a book upon poisons, remarks : 6 These contra¬
dictions reduced me to the philosophical necessity of
tasting the venom myself. I did so, but not without
repugnance, and, as the celebrated Morgagni observes, I
shall advise no one to try it in the gaiety of his heart,
lest he should happen at the time to have some excoria¬
tion on the tongue, which is a circumstance not always
easy to determine.’ Fontana tasted the poison himself ;
I myself have had a dose of it, and would rather not re¬
peat the experiment. He says : ‘ I could find no taste
in it, except of a very insipid liquor.’

If the sucking operation cannot be performed in
stantly, put on a cupping-glass. This answers the same

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

219

purpose, it abstracts the poison from the wound, and, at
all events, prevents its going far into the system, and
poisoning the blood. The sucking, however, is the
safest and most efficient remedy. The African cup¬
ping instrument is the horn of a cow. Small cuts are
made on the skin, and then the horn is applied, the tip of
which is cut off. The operator then exhausts the air,
and, finally, he stops the opening in the horn with a bit
of wax, which he holds in his mouth for that purpose
We all of us recollect the story of Queen Eleanor suck¬
ing 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. Ladies are
often the best doctors, after all : they were so formerly,
it appears, and in many cases prove so even now. So
well aware were the ancients of the efficacy of suction
in such wounds, that when Cato made his expedition
through the African deserts, abounding in snakes, he
employed certain native wild tribes, called Psilli, to follow
in the rear of the army. These fellows pretended to
have a charm against snakes : they were, however,
great impostors, for all they did was to suck out the
poison from the wound. Knowing human nature, how¬
ever, they, like wise men, ascribed their cures to cer¬
tain awful, mystic rites performed over the patients,
and, I have no doubt, exacted fees accordingly. It ap¬
pears that there are to this day tribes in the East who
practise these same arts. Savory relates, that when at
Rosetta, he was present at a procession, the roar of
which was brought up by a crowd of savage-looking
outcasts, who held snakes in their hands, and played
all manner of tricks with them, to the astonishment
of the natives. These fellows were professed curers
of snake-bites. I have myself witnessed the good effects

220

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

of suction in snake-bites. When house-surgeon at St.
George’s Hospital, I was called on to treat a boy who
had been bitten in two places in the forefinger of the
right hand by a viper which he had caught on Wands¬
worth Common. He had carried it up to London by
the tail without its touching him : he then, out of
bravado, put it on the table of a public-house, and
began to play tricks with it ; in an instant it bit
him. I ordered him (half-an-hour after the infliction
of the wound) to suck it as hard as he could. This
he did for nearly two hours. Some slight inflam¬
mation of the arm followed, but in four days he
was quite well, and went about his usual occupation
again. The viper, it being the middle of summer, was
in good condition, and on dissecting him I squeezed only
two or three drops out of the poison-glands, showing
that the boy must have had a full dose of the venom.
I have carefully examined all the evidence on record,
as regards the most efficacious internal medicine that can
be given in such cases, and have come to the conclusion
that nothing is so good as ammonia ; that is, the com¬
mon hartshorn, which everybody is so prompt to sug¬
gest in fainting-fits. The best form of it is the prepa¬
ration called ‘ Eau de luce.’ The dose is half a tea¬
spoonful in water, frequently repeated. This eau de
luce, be it known, is composed of hartshorn, spirits of
wine, and oil of amber. Those whose travels lead them
into places frequented by venomous snakes would be
wise to carry a bottle of it in their pocket.

Talking the other day to my friend Mr. Frcehnert
bandmaster of the regiment to which I have the honour
to be attached, he related to me the following most inte¬
resting story which is worthy of all credit. Mr. Frcehnert
is a most intelligent and observant gentleman, who has

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

221

seen much of India, when serving there in another
regiment. He said that when travelling over a desolate
plain in India, forty miles from Bangalore, he saw
three men at some little distance moving about as if
something was the matter. He went up to them, and
found that they were natives, catching cobras among the
rocks and stones, and that the cause of the disturbance
was that one of them had been bitten by a cobra.
One of his companions, however, had the means to cure
him in his pocket, for he took out two small round balls,
one of which he applied to the wound, and, at the same
time, made passes from the shoulder towards the fingers,
that is, in a contrary direction to what the poison taken
up by the absorbents would go, with something that
looked like a small stick. In about five minutes the
sufferer began to get better, and ultimately recovered.
Mr. Froehnert, thinking this very extraordinary, ob¬
tained the balls from the man. Knowing that the
native Indians are wonderfully quick at changing
things, he expressed his doubts as to whether the balls
just used were those he then had in his hand, even
though he had never let them go out of his sight.
The proprietor of them then took an oath that they
were the same, the form of swearing being peculiar.
He took the tail of the cobra which had inflicted the
bite upon the man, and had been killed, and twisted it
round a leaf of the betel-nut, and upon this he swore
that he was telling the truth.

Some time afterwards, at quite a different place, a
man happened to be bitten by a cobra, and Mr.
Froehnert volunteered the use of his little balls and
stick. They were applied, and with good effect, and
the man soon recovered.

222

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

Mr. Froehnert has most kindly given me the two
little balls, each the size of a large pea, and the bit of
wood-like material. Upon one of the balls the dry blood
of the man who was bitten is still to be seen. The
stick I have ascertained to be a little bit of common
gamboge, used in our pharmacopoeia as a drastic purge :
no anti-poisonous virtues have hitherto been ascribed to it.
The two little balls I took to the College of Surgeons,
where Mr. Quekett kindly examined them for me. We
could make out nothing of them but that they were
composed of some vegetable material, for vegetable
hairs were seen in abundance.

Now, what is to be said to this story? That the
natives of India have remedies suited to the diseases of
the country is quite certain ; certain also is it, as I have
it from several persons, that a native doctor can cure
where a European fails. Snake-bites are not uncommon
in these regions, and it is reasonable to suppose that
long experience should have led to the discovery of
some antidote to the poison, so fatal to human life.
It is an unwise and an unphilosophical act to laugh at
and leave unexamined as good for nothing the native
remedies of any country, and I am quite certain that
there are many substances, particularly in the vegetable
kingdom, which are successfully used in the cure of
disease by the natives of India and other countries, long
experience having taught their value ; yet these remedies
remain unknown to our Pharmacopoeia simply from want
of observation on the part of Europeans. It might be
said that the men Mr. Froehnert saw were cheating and
wishing to deceive ; but yet this seems unlikely, for they
were far away from any human habitations, catching
cobras, their stock in trade for their performances. A

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

223

European was the last person they would expect to see
in this spot, and they could not have seen Mr. Froehnert
coming-, for he was under a canvass covering to the
carriage or cart he was travelling in.

The accident had happened before Mr. Froehnert
came up, and the man was rolling about in agonies when
he came on the scene ; his arm swollen and useless : it
was a case of life and death. Was, then, this the time
for a trick ? Again, on a second occasion, the balls and
stick were used with success. I confess I cannot
explain this, but I shall endeavour to test their efficacy
by direct experiment. Any how, I shall present the
blood-stained balls and stick to the College of Surgeons,
with their history appended, for the use of others inte¬
rested in this subject.

About four years ago I myself, in person, had
painful experience of the awful effects of snake’s
poison. I have received a dose of the cobra’s poison
into my system, luckily a minute dose, or I should
not have survived it. The accident happened in a very
curious way. I was poisoned by the snake, but not
bitten by him. I got the poison second-hand. Anxious
to witness the effects of the poison of the cobra upon a
rat, I took up a couple in a bag alive to a certain cobra.
I took one rat out of the bag and put him into the cage
with the snake. The cobra was coiled up among the
stones in the centre of the cage apparently asleep. When
he heard the noise of the rat falling into the cage, he
just looked up and put out his tongue, hissing at the same
time. The rat got in a corner and began washing himself,
keeping one eye on the snake, whose appearance he
evidently did not half like. Presently the rat ran across
the snake’s body, and in an instant the latter assumed his

224

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

fighting attitude. As the rat passed the snake, he made
a dart, but, missing his aim, hit his nose a pretty hard blow
against the side of the cage. This accident seemed to
anger him, for he spread out his crest and waved it to and
fro in the beautiful manner peculiar to his kind. The rat
became alarmed, and ran near him again. Again cobra
made a dart, and bit him, but did not, I think, inject
any poison into him, the rat being so very active ; at
least no symptoms of poisoning were shown. The bite,
nevertheless, aroused the ire of the rat, for he gathered
himself for a spring, and measuring his distance sprang
right on to the neck of the cobra, who was waving about
in front of him. This plucky rat, determined to die hard,
gave the cobra two or three severe bites in the neck,
the snake keeping his body erect all this time, and
endeavouring to turn his head round so as to bite the
rat, who was clinging on like the old man in Sinbad
the Sailor. Soon, however, cobra changed his tactics.
Tired, possibly, with sustaining the weight of the rat, he
lowered his head, and the rat, finding himself again on
terra firma, tried to run away ; not so, for the snake,
collecting all his force, brought down his erected poison-
fangs, making his head tell by its weight in giving
vigour to the blow, right on to the body of the rat.
This poor beast now seemed to know that the fight was
over, and that he was conquered. He retired to a corner
of the cage, and began panting violently, endeavouring,
at the same time, to steady his failing strength with his
feet. Ilis eyes were widely dilated, and his mouth open
as if gasping for breath. The cobra stood erect over
him, hissing and putting out his tongue as if conscious
of victory. In about three minutes the rat fell quietly
on his side and expired : the cobra then moved off’ and

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

22o

took no further notice of his defunct enemy. About
ten minutes afterwards the rat was hooked out of the
ca^e for me to examine. No external wound could I see
anywhere, so I took out my knife and began taking the
skin off the rat. I soon discovered two very minute
punctures, like small needle-holes, in the side of the rat,
where the fangs of the snake had entered. The parts
between the skin and the flesh, and the flesh itself,
appeared as though affected with mortification, even
though the wound had not been, inflicted above a quarter
of an hour, if so much.

Anxious to see if the skin itself was affected,
I scraped away the parts on it with my finger-nail.
Finding nothing but the punctures, I threw the rat
away and put the knife and skin in my pocket, and
started to go away. I had not walked a hundred yards
before all of a sudden I felt just as if somebody iiad
come behind me and struck me a severe blow on the
head and neck, and at the same time I experienced a
most acute pain and sense of oppression at the chest, as
though a hot iron had been run in and a hundredweight
put on the top of it. I knew instantly, from what I had
read, that I was poisoned ; I said as much to my friend,
a most intelligent gentleman, who happened to be with
me, and told him if 1 fell to give me brandy and eau de
luce, words which he kept repeating in case he might
forget them. At the same time I enjoined him to keep me
going, and not on any account to allow me to lie down.
I then forgot everything for several minutes, and my
friend tells me I rolled about as if very faint and weak.
He also informs me that the first thing I did was to fall
against him, asking if I looked seedy. He most wisely
answered, ‘ No, you look very well.’ I don’t think he

Q

22G

THE COBRA DI CAPELLO.

thought so, for his own face was as white as a ghost ; I
recollect this much. He tells me my face was of a
greenish yellow colour. After walking or rather stag¬
gering along for some minutes, I gradually recovered
my senses, and steered for the nearest chemist’s shop.
Rushing in, I asked for eau de luce. Of course he had
none, but my eye caught the words 1 Spirit, ammon. co.,’
or hartshorn, on a bottle. I reached it down myself, and
nouring a large quantity into a tumbler with a little
water, both of which articles I found on a soda-water
stand in the shop, drank it off, though it burnt my mouth
and lips very much. Instantly I felt relief from the pain
at the chest and head. The chemist stood aghast, and
on my telling him what was the matter, recommended a
warm bath. If I had then followed his advice these words
would ne^er have been placed on record. After a
second draught at the hartshorn bottle, I proceeded on
my way, feeling very stupid and confused.

On arriving at my friend’s residence close by, he
kindly procured me a bottle of brandy, of which I drank
four large wine-glasses one after the other, but did not
feel the least tipsy after the operation. Feeling nearly
well, I started on my way heme, and then, for the first time,
perceived a most acute pain under the nail of the left
thumb : this pain also ran up the arm. I set to work to
suck the wound, and then found out how the poison had
got into the system. About an hour before I examined
the dead rat I had been cleaning the nail with a penknife,
and had slightly separated the nail from the skin beneath.
Into this little crack the poison had got when I was
scraping the rat’s skin to examine the wound. How
virulent, therefore, must the poison of the cobra be ! It
already had been circulated in the body of the rat, from
which I had imbibed it second-hand.

FISH AND FISHING.

227

FISH AND FISHING.

The cold winter months have arrived ; yet we have
been out fishing on the days apparently the most favour¬
able for sport, though without much success. The fish
have retired into winter quarters among1 the reeds and
mud, so we content ourselves with recollections of past
sport, and dip our pen into the inkstand instead of our
hook into the Thames.

We well remember, one fine day in August last,
going out on a gudgeon-fishing expedition. A luxu¬
rious dog-cart carried us quickly to Surley Hall, well
known to Etonians. There we found the Charon of
this part of the river, Finmore by name, waiting for us
in his punt. This old man’s family has had the fishing
of the water for more than a hundred years ; and the
old man himself knows every hole and patch of weeds
in the river just about Windsor as well as a Londoner
does the shops of Regent Street.

In the punt were placed three chairs and three
fishing-rods, two punt-poles with sharp iron spikes on
their ends, called in these parts 4 rypecks why or
wherefore they have received this name we cannot
ascertain ; lastly, an enormous iron rake. Three
anglers occupied the three chairs ; two of them were
great salmon-fishers, who, but a few weeks ago, thought
a fish under twenty pounds nothing: they were now
pleased by catching a little gudgeon not a quarter of an
ounce in weight. The laziness of gudgeon-fishing is in-

Q 2

228

FISII AND FISHING.

deed laziness. 4 If’ (as most aptly remarked at the time)
4 you exert yourself in the least, the whole thing is
spoilt.’ It is quite contrary to the rules to put on one’s
own bait, to alter one’s own float, to take the captured
fish off the hook : all is done by Charon, who not
unfrequently has quite enough to do. Everything
prepared, the boat is pushed out into the middle of the
river, the two rypecks are fixed firmly into the ground
at the bottom, and the boat is fastened to them across
the stream. The first operation is to rake up the
bottom well with the big rake. Immediately this is
done, all the gudgeon in the neighbourhood flock to
the place, and if they are in a biting humour, begin
instantly to be caught. Bold biters are these gudgeon :
they take the hook with a rush, and down goes the float
deep into the water. This is capital fun when the fish
are on the feed : so pleased, indeed, was one of the
salmon-fishers aforesaid, that he exclaimed, 4 Well,
there are only two kinds of fishing, salmon fishing and
gudgeon fishing,’ a dictum worthy of the respected
speaker. When we first went out, not a fish could
we catch, though we knew there were plenty close
under the punt. The reason was that we had not
got the hook at the proper depth ; it ought to be an
inch, or rather less, from the bottom ; if it is more, the
fish, who feed only at the bottom, don’t see it, and
it passes over them untouched. Gudgeon are curious
fish as regards biting; some days they will bite
furiously, another day they won’t look at the bait.
Even when they are biting well, they will suddenly
leave off. The remedy then is to 4 scratch their backs,’
as Charon says, 4 with the rake.’ This will often make
them begin again. We .have been out and caught

FISH AND FISHING.

229

eight or ten fish in one day, and a few days afterwards,
with two rods in the same place, we catch fifteen dozen
— the best day’s sport we ever had. Much, how¬
ever, depends on the bait ; worms, we find, are de¬
cidedly the best, and those the small red worm from
the dunghill. They will be taken by the fish better if
they are kept in moss a day or two beforehand, than if
used directly they are dug up. We have found that a little
cream poured on the moss causes the fish to bite at them
with eagerness ; the reason probably is, that the worms
feed on the cream and thereby acquire a fine transparent
look. Something, too, depends on the line: this must
not be too thick, nor of a colour easily seen in the water.
The finest line that can be used is made of human hair ;
it is much finer and much stronger than gut made from
silk-worms ; but it must be made by the fisherman him¬
self ; it cannot be bought anywhere that we know of.
It is difficult, also, to get human hair long enough ; the
hair-merchants in the City are the only people who sell
it ; it is, moreover, very expensive. In the New Museum
at South Kensington I see some very fine specimens ol
human hair among the ‘ Animal Products.’ The label
affixed to it gives the following interesting information :
‘ Human hair is much used for curls, wigs, &c. It is
an article of commerce in many countries, young
women selling their tresses for trinkets and dresses. A
head of hair weighs from % lb. to f lb. ; its wholesale
price is from 30.9. to 60s. per lb. The light coloured and
most valuable hair comes from Germany and the Scandi¬
navian States. The darker shades are supplied by the
female peasants of France, from whom the spring harvest
of hair is stated to average 200,000 lbs.’ I understand
that very light-coloured hair is the most expensive.

230

FISH AND FISHING.

I learnt casually that some anglers, who are very
fastidious about their lines, prefer above all tilings
hairs out of the tails of the Queen’s cream-coloured
horses ; but as the tails of these horses seemed in pretty
good condition the last time I saw them, I imagine the
favour of pulling them is granted only to a few.

Very often, in gudgeon-fishing, I have caught a
most beautiful little fish, covered with scales in which
all the colours of the rainbow are visibly glittering.
This fish is called a ‘ Pope,’ and is, as Charon informed
me, a breed between a gudgeon and a perch — a very
excusable mistake, for it presents characteristics of both
its reputed parents. It resembles the perch (unfortunately
for itself) in having a very long and prickly fin on its
back, advantage of which is taken by the boys about
Windsor, who are very fond of ‘ plugging a pope.’
This operation consists in fixing a bung in the sharp
spines on the poor pope’s back fin, and then throwing
him into the water. The pope dives and swims away
merrily; but immediately he ceases swimming the
bung brings him to the top of the water ; astonished
and frightened, he dives again — again to be brought to
the surface. The dead bodies of popes which have been
thus cruelly plugged are frequently seen floating down
the river. I suppose there must be some relic of
Catholic persecution about this ; but Charon knew
no more than how to operate upon the unfortunate
fish *

* The fish (but I cannot name any fish in particular) is well
known as an emblem of our Saviour, from the fact that the
Greek word for fish, contains the initials of His name

and titles, viz., ’I wavs Xptirroi 0=3? iio; Iuttio ; Jesus Christ the
Son of God, the Saviour. Again, the idea has been enlarged

FISH AND FISHING.

231

When the gudgeon are caught, they are placed in
the well of the boat, which communicates with the
water outside by means of an open grating. The fish
seem to know they are captives, for they all crowd to
the grating when one attempts to take them out of the
well. I have also observed, about all the kinds of
fresh-water fish that I have caught, that they will,
when placed on the bank, always jump towards the
water. I once saw a fine barbel, that was covered
with grass by the water side and thought to be quite
defunct, suddenly begin a series of jumpings towards
the river ; and a fine race I had to prevent his getting-
back again into the hole whence he had just been
taken. How is this to be accounted for ? I have
placed a fish where he can neither see nor hear the
water, even supposing that he has the power of seeing
and hearing when out of his own element ; yet he has
always jumped in the proper direction towards it.

In a letter published for private circulation from the
son, since unfortunately deceased, of one of our greatest
naturalists, to his father, I find the following interesting
description of a mode of fishing in India, which I have
never seen described elsewhere : 4 The peculiarities and
the lions of the Indus are the “ 'pnllalT' and the pullah
fishers. The pullah is a much-esteemed fish, said to be
found only in the Indus. It is something like the grey

upon, for the two curved lines which form the outline of a fish
are joined at their ends, and used to enclose either the figure
of our Saviour, the Virgin, or the patron Saint. Fishes are
also emblematic of Christians in general, in allusion to the
call of the Apostles, or to the supposed meaning of the
miraculous draught of fishes recorded in the last chapter of St.
John’s Gospel.

232

FISII AND FISHING.

mullet in appearance, and in taste little better than a
mackerel ; but it is thought a great deal of. Every¬
one eats pullah. It is caught in the following manner,
by a particular caste of natives brought up to the
business. A large earthen vessel is procured, shaped
like a lentil seed (or rather a saucer with a dome to it)
with an aperture at the top : the vessel is about a yard
in diameter, and half a yard deep, the orifice eight inches
across. This of course floats on the water, and will
sustain a considerable weight. Pushing it off from the
side, the fisherman throws himself on his belly across it,
and so closes the aperture, with his body thus forming a
kind of boat, which is propelled by the motions of the
arms and legs, as in swimming. This buoys him up on
the rapid stream, and prevents his being swallowed up
by the eddies of the river, and also enables him to
use his net, which is stretched across a kind of fork
attached to the end of a long pole. This machine is
held perpendicularly in the water, the ends of the fork
touching the bottom. The current causes the net to bag
and spread out as the man floats on his earthen pot
down stream. The pullah, lying head up, cannot see
the net from the muddiness of the water ; so that it
comes upon him unawares. The fisherman feels a tug,
and instantly closes the net by means of a string he
holds, and the pullah is caught. The next process is to
haul him up, and stick the poor brute with a skewer ;
and shifting his belly to one side, the pullah wallah
drops the fish into the pot, and resumes his employment.

Would not this do for - ? He might catch scores

of gudgeons in the Thames by this means, besides
astonishing the natives.’

O

When the w'ater is low and there is no wind the marks

FISH AND FISHING.

233

of the gudgeons’ snouts can be seen on tfie jnud by the
sides of the river, or even in the centre of the river if the
water is low enough. These gudgeon-tracks are interest¬
ing to the geologist, for they might afford a key to many
marks found in a fossil state in several districts of
England. Witness the block of stone in the British
Museum, showing the marks of the retiring tide and the
indentations of the rain which must have been falling: at
the same time. If an antediluvian gudgeon had been
grubbing on this stone, I trow his marks would have
puzzled many of the learned.

Upon the mud in shallow pools, curious marks can
often be observed, as if a person had been drawing
patterns on it with a small stick. These are the
tracks of the common caddis-worm, that curious worm
which forms for its unprotected body a covering of
sticks, small stones, and even shells, which house it
carries about on his back ; it is these houses that make
the grooved marks in the mud. Relative to these
marks of fishes made in geological periods, I here
insert a communication made by my father to the
Ashmolean Society at Oxford, June 1843.

£ Dr. Buckland made a communication on other modes
of locomotion than swimming in the family of fishes,
and showed that the fins in certain genera perform the
functions of feet and wings. Several fishes of the
Lophius family, or u fishing frogs,” have the fins con¬
verted into feet, or paddles, by means of which some
species have the power of crawling and hopping on sand
and mud, whilst the Lophius Histrio can live three days
out of the water, and walk upon dry land. The climb¬
ing perch, Perea, or Anabas Scandens, of the Indian
rivers, is known to live a long time in the air, and to

234

FISH AND FISHING.

climb up the stems of palm-trees in pursuit of flies, by
means of spinous projections on its gill covers. Fishes
of the Silurus family have a bony enlargement of the
first ray of the pectoral fin, which is also armed with
spines ; and this organ is not only an offensive and de¬
fensive weapon, but may also give ambulatory move¬
ments along the bottom of the fresh waters which these
fish inhabit. The flying fishes are notorious examples
of the conversion of fins into an organ of movement in
the air. M. Deslongchamps has lately published, in the
Transactions of the Linnaean Society of Normandy, 1842,
an account of his observations on the ambulatory move¬
ments of the gurnard (Trigla) at the bottom of the sea.
In 1839, he had an opportunity of observing these
movements, in one of the artificial sea ponds, or fishing
traps surrounded by nets, on the shore of Normandy.
He saw a score of gurnards closing their fins against
their sides, like the wings of a fly in repose, and, without
any movement of their tails, walking along the bottom
by means of six free rays, three on each pectoral fin,
which they placed successively on the ground. They
moved rapidly forwards, backwards, to the right and
left, groping in all directions with these rays, as if in
search of small crabs. Their great heads and bodies
seemed to throw hardly any weight on these slender rays
or feet, being suspended in water, and having their
weight further diminished by their swimming-bladder.
During these movements the gurnards resembled
insects moving along the sand. When M. Deslong¬
champs moved in the water, the fish swam away rapidly
to the extremity of the pond ; when he stood still, they
resumed their ambulatory movement, and came between
his legs. On dissection, we find these three anterior

FISH AND FISHING.

235

rays of the pectoral fins are supported, each with a
strong muscular apparatus to direct their movements,
apart from the muscles that are connected with the
smaller rays of the pectoral fin. Dr. Buckland then
stated that Miss Potts, of Chester, had lately sent to him
a flagstone from a coal shaft at Mostyn, bearing im¬
pressions, which he supposed to be the trackway of some
fish, crawling along the bottom by means of the anterior
rays of its pectoral fins. There were no indications of
feet, but only scratches symmetrically disposed on each
side of a space that may have been covered by the body
of the fish whilst making progress by pressing its fin
bones on the bottom. As yet, no footsteps of reptiles or
of any animals more highly organised than fishes, have
been found in strata older than those which belong to
the Triassic or New Red Sandstone series, of which the
Cheirotherium of Germany and Cheshire and the Orni-
thichnites of Connecticut are notorious examples. The
abundant remains of fossil fishes, armed with strong bony
spines, in strata of the Carboniferous and Old Red Sand¬
stone series, would lead us to expect the frequent oc¬
currence of impressions made by their locomotive organs
on the bottom of the ancient waters in which they lived.
Dr. Buckland proposes to designate these petrified traces
or trackways of ancient fishes by the term Ichthyopato-
lites, or Fish-tracks (I^dug, a fish ; izutoq, a path).’ How
pleased my father would have been with the Windsor
gudgeon marks !

It would appear that fish have the power of alter¬
ing their colour, so as to resemble the colour of the
water in which they have been confined : this is the
case particularly with minnows, sticklebacks, and trout.
Mr. Grove, the fishmonger at Charing Cross, will tel]

236

FISH AND FISHING.

you where a trout comes from, by his colour. The
trout which live iu peat-coloured water are sometimes
nearly black ; those from fine running streams, such
as the clear chalk streams about Winchester, are of a
beautiful silvery colour. Gudgeons placed in a glass
bowl will become very white, and lose the beautiful
brown colour on their backs. Not long ago, I observed
some very woe-begone, pale, debauched-looking carp in
the tanks of the Regent’s Park Gardens. I remarked
to my companion that I was sure, from their pale
colour, they had been in captivity somewhere. The
keeper soon afterwards told me that they had been
presented by Mr. Albert Smith, who had had them in
his artificial pond, in the Egyptian Hall, for many
weeks : the poor fish had been all this while living in
gas-light. I am anxious to see if they will recover
their colours : they probably will in course of time.

In a cheesemonger’s shop, in Tottenham-court-road,
is a large glass bowl full of gold fish : these fish look
ghastly pale and white, poor things! They cannot help
so doing, for their transparent habitation is fixed on a
stand which is painted dead white, and they sympathise
with the colour. In the same street, a fishmonger has a
vivarium, but he wisely has placed in it several of
those beautiful Venus-ear shells that exhibit such won¬
derful iridescent colours : the fish have benefited by
this, and they look as well again as the cheesemonger’s
fish. A fishmonger at Billingsgate-market told me he
generally knew from what part of the coast fish came
by the colour of them. This observation was apropos
to a quantity of Dutch Jack that were displayed on his
slab ; and which looked very dingy and dark-coloured, as
though they had lived in stagnant and dirty water ;

FISH AND FISHING.

237

very different from a clean and bright-coloured Thames
Jack. Dutch Jack never look to me the same fish as
the English Jack : there is no real difference, I believe.
The fishmonger said there was about as much difference
as there is between an Englishman and a Dutchman.
Some of the trout in Scotland, which live in water
discoloured by the peat, become quite black, but they
do not appear to be the worse as regards eating. In
some of the Scotch lakes, I understand, trout of two
kinds are found, viz., the original inhabitants of the lake,
which are of a bright fresh colour, and also black-look¬
ing fish which have come down the streams into the
lake.

Mr. Quekett also tells me that in these Scotch lakes
the trout which live in the deep water in the centre of
the lake are of a dark colour, and those which are found
along the shallow margins are of a bright colour. The
reason of this probably is, that the fish near the margin
receive more light — both that which comes directly
through the water and that which is reflected from the
stony bottom — than those which live in the deeper parts
of the stream.

While upon the subject of black fish, I must intro¬
duce a curious instance of a white man’s body, or rather
his bones, being turned black. The African slavers call
their human cargo, ‘ black ivory,’ and in the following
story we have a genuine case of ‘ black ivory.’ It was
frequently mentioned by my father in his lectures, but
is, I believe, not generally known. In the year 1834,
a large tumulus or barrow was opened in the village of
Gristhorpe, near Scarborough, and in it they found a
coffin made of the trunk of an oak tree, the bark of
which remained perfect, and even the lichen upon the

238

FISH AND FISHING.

bark. Over the coffin had been placed oak branches
the thickness of about one foot, likewise covered with
bark. When the coffin was opened they found a skeleton
of a man, who must have stood not less than six feet
three or four : the marks upon the bones indicated that
the muscles that had been attached to them had been
very powerful, and that he must have been a very strong
man. His head was examined phrenologically by Pro¬
fessor Elliotson, and he pronounced, from its configura¬
tion, that the owner had been well calculated for com¬
mand ; and it is reasonable to conclude from this fact,
and from the evident attention paid to his burying,
place, that he had been a great chief ; other evidence
also adduced rendered it probable that he belonged to
the tribe of ancient Britons called the Brigantes. The
body was enveloped in a strong skin, the hair of which
was soft and fine, much resembling that of the sheep, or
of a goat, but not quite so long.* It was much decom¬
posed. Among the portions of skin were found a few
foot-bones of some small animal, supposed at first to be
those of a small hunting-dog • but they were afterwards
examined by my father, who pronounced them to be the
bones of a weasel, and accounted for their presence by
supposing that, as the savage tribes of North America
and elsewhere, at the present day, use the skins of ani¬
mals with the feet attached for purses and bags (Mr.
Catlin figures them in his book under the name of medi¬
cine-bags), so the ancient Britons probably used the skins
of small animals as convenient receptacles for their flint
arrow-heads, food, &c. But the most curious part of the
story is, that the bones, being naturally white, were

* The microscope would have set this point at rest had it
been used.

FISH AND FISHING.

239

found to be of an ebony colour, quite black, and also in
a marvellous state of preservation. The water had
dissolved out the tannin from the oak bark, and the
tannin had combined with the iron of the soil, making
tannate of iron, or, in other words, ink. These bones
might have been polished and passed off well as 4 black
ivory,’ in the common acceptation of the term.

Sticklebacks are wonderful fish to change their co¬
lour. I have seen sticklebacks at the tail of a mill-pond
at Islip, of the most beautiful iridescent colour : the bot¬
tom was composed of clean white gravel stones. Again,
there is a ditch running round Christchurch meadow, at
Oxford : here the water is black and dirty, and the
sticklebacks are of a brown and almost black colour. It
is in this family of sticklebacks that we find an instance
of a fish making a nest. At first this sounds curious,
‘ fish’s nest’ being in the same category as 4 a mare’s nest
but I do not see anything contrary to reason in it, as the
idea of a nest is usually associated with eggs, and every¬
body has heard of fishes’ eggs or spawn. The fifteen-
spined stickleback is known to build its nest along our
shores ; it is a sea-fish. In the Naturalists’ Library, in
Yol. Y. of British Fishes, I find a picture of one of the
nests of these fish (see Plate III. Fig. 1,) and a description
as follows : 4 The nests are to be found in several parts
of the coast (of Berwickshire) in spring and summer, in
rocky and weedy pools, between tide marks : they are
about eight inches in length and pear-shaped, formed of
branches of common fucus with various corallines, &c.

6 These are all bound together in one confused compact
mass, by means of a thread run through and round in
every conceivable direction. This thread is of great
length and as fine as ordinary silk, and somewhat elastic,

210

FISH AND FISHING.

whitish, and formed of some albuminous secretion. The
eggs are laid in the middle of the nest, in several irre¬
gular masses of about an inch in diameter, each consist¬
ing of many hundred ova, which are of the size of
ordinary shot, and of a whitish or amber colour,
according to their degree of maturity. It would appear
that the fish must first deposit its spawn amid the grow¬
ing fucus, and afterwards gather its branches together
round the eggs; at the same time weaving and incorpo¬
rating all the rubbish that is lying or floating around
the nucleus.’

Mr. Peach, a great observer, wrote to my father
on this subject in 1845, as follows : ‘ Mr. Crouch,
of Penzance, was the first that I heard of noticing a
fish’s nest, and it was that of the fifteen-spined stick¬
leback : he has paid great attention to the habits of
this fish. It is a most determined warrior, and will give
battle to a fish of much greater size than himself: they
are plentiful in this harbour. (Fowey in Cornwall.)
The nest is composed of the Coralina officinalis, and it
is a difficult matter to find it out. There is also a fish
which deposits its ova in the fissures in*the rocks, and
this fish watches both ova and young.’ The nidification
of fishes does not rest on the testimony of Mr. Crouch
only, for they have been frequently found after the ova
have been hatched ; and similar observations made by-
several on the Cornish coast, so that which was at first
doubtful, is fully proved. Mr. Crouch and myself have
frequently found specimens when we have been out ‘ fish¬
nesting.’

Again, Mr. Moggridge, who lives near Swansea,
writes to my late father on this subject : 1 Mr. Crouch,
of Penzance, was the first to observe the fishes’ nest.

FISH AND FISHING.

241

In May and June six nests were discovered near that
town. They are formed in ledges or recesses of the
rocks. The Corallina officinalis is laid in strata the
shape of a compact ball, but rough and not easily dis¬
tinguished from the adjacent weeds. Others are made
by bringing together with a glutinous thread the broad
leaves of Ulva, somewhat after the manner of the tailor
bird, only that the process is by lapping and not by
stitching. The eggs have been examined by the micro¬
scope both before and after birth. They are easily
hatched by changing the water every day, but the little
fish soon die. Mr. Crouch has seen the old fish in the
act of nidification ; if the fabric is damaged it is re¬
paired the next tide.’

I am aware that the fresh-water stickleback, so
common in our ponds and ditches, makes a nest like his
salt-water relation. I have never been lucky enough to
find one.

Mr. Albany Hancock has, however, recorded in the
Magazine of Natural History, 1852, many interesting
observations on this curious subject ; and as he himself
watched the whole process, I take the liberty of insert¬
ing an abstract of his observations : ‘ I had the pleasure
of seeing the nest built from the very commencement,
and through all its stages. The place selected for the
nest was the bare, flat top of a piece of oolite, where it
formed a right angle, by resting against the glass
partition which separated two ponds (in a tank), in one
of which were kept four minnows and two small eels,
and in the second the sticklebacks. Now he (the male
fish) arrives with a large fibre in his mouth, deposits it,
re-arranges the whole of the materials, already accumu¬
lated, with his mouth ; removing one fibre to this place,

R

242

FISH AND FISHING.

and another to that, and departs in his search for more.
Now he returns, carrying a small piece of gravel, which
is carefully placed on part of the fibres, as it were, to
keep them down ; he then draws himself slowly over the
whole, and is off again. Now he brings another fibre,
which he dibs in with his snout, so as to make it
interlace with the others. Now he is busy poking a
circular hole in the middle of the accumulated materials
with his snout ; thus he conveys, without cessation,
decayed rootlets, gravel, sand, and whatever he can find
that will answer his purpose.

‘ But I must observe that the specific gravity of his
materials is continually tested ; for, having found what
appears a suitable fibre, it is carried a little way, then
projected to a short distance from his mouth, and
watched as it falls ; if it falls rapidly, it is tried again
in the same manner; and if it then proves too light., it
is abandoned altogether, and another selected. If there
should be any strong fibre, which he has a difficulty in
causing to remain in the position he requires, a small
quantity of sand is brought in his mouth, and adroitly
placed on the top of the fibre to keep it down : if this
does not effect the purpose so as to please him,, the
refractory piece is taken out, and rejected altogether.
At the same time he hangs or hovers close over the

surface of the nest, and throws his whole body into a
curious and rapid vibratory motion, by which he causes
a rapid current of water to be projected on the materials
as though to prove their stability ; and when this
operation is performed, the lighter particles and light
mud, as it were, fanned or winnowed out by the
generated current may be seen floating away. Another
very curious operation is the action of drawing his body

FISH AND FISHING.

243

slowly over the surface of the materials which form the
nest. 1 believe that at the time he excretes a glutinous
matter, which acts as a species of cement, and tends to
keep the materials together ; at the same time that the
pressure of his body may render them more compact ;
or it may be that the whole surface of the nest is by this
action charged with the milt, and thus the impregnation
of the eggs more perfectly insured. The whole time
occupied in accumulating the materials for the nest was
about four hours, during which interval a goodly
quantity had been obtained. If we wish to study to
advantage the nidification of this species, a few specimens
should be placed in confinement about May or June.’
As these fish are so common, and so easily observed, the
above passage may induce some of my readers to make
further observations on this comparatively new subject.

But lately I made an expedition to the Isle of Dogs,
opposite Greenwich. I found (end of July) thousands of
young sticklebacks in the shallow ditches which inter¬
sect the island. They were all very minute ; only two
full-grown sticklebacks did I see all day. One was
dead, and the other was very nearly dead. Query,
what becomes of all the full-grown fish ? The water¬
man who pulled me across the river said that shoals of
sticklebacks come sometimes to the landing-steps, close
by where the steamers stop ; he thinks they are washed
out of the ditches of the Isle of Dogs opposite. I did
not see any when I was there, but the water was very
muddy, and the wind was blowing.

The male stickleback, in the breeding season, is really
a most beautiful little fish. His skin is quite iridescent,
with magnificent red and green colours blended together.
These colours, as is the case with most fish, are very

n 2

244

FISII AND FISHING.

evanescent, and soon fade awav after the animal’s
death. The best way I know of to preserve them is to
skin the fish, as soon as they are taken out of the
water, varnish them carefully directly the skin is dry
enough to receive it, and hang them up to dry, in the
dark. I never yet saw a stuffed fish in a fishing-tackle
shop or elsewhere that had not lost its colours. If these
fish had been dried in the dark the colours would have
remained much more perfect. This rule will apply to
the skins of snakes and lizards as well as to fish.

Mr. Rowell, the intelligent subcurator of the Ash-
molean museum at Oxford, tells me that the best
dressing for preparations of fish, crocodiles, &c., which
will never get perfectly dry of themselves, is painters’
knottings : it is made of shell-lac and naphtha. He
says : £ The specimen I tried it on is a crocodile’s
head, that was always damp in wet weather, but now-
feels dry at all times. I made it very dry and hot, and
then put the varnish on with a brush, giving it two or
three coats, as it dries in a moment. It is now about
three years since the head was varnished, and it looks
as well as when first done.’

In the fishing-tackle shop of Mr. Gouland of Crooked
Lane, near London Bridge (Mr. Gouland, by-the-by,
makes the best roach-hooks I ever fished with), I saw
several stuffed fish. Fish stuffed are, generally, hideous
objects, but these were beautifully prepared, their
shape being well cared for, and their colours preserved
in an extraordinary manner. I inquired who had
stuffed them, and was told that the stuffer’s name was
Cooper, and that he lived in Radnor Street, St. Luke’s.
I would advise my readers, if they ever want a fish
stuffed, to employ him..

FISH AND FISHING.

245

In our gudgeon-fishing expeditions I often observed
large islands of rushes, of which Charon seemed very
careful, not allowing the punt to break or otherwise
injure them. These rushes are valuable for two things :
firstly, they are sold to make chairs and baskets;
secondly, they harbour the jack, which the knowing
Charon catches. A few days ago I saw a man mak¬
ing chairs with this sort of rushes; he informed me
that he bought them at Maidenhead, and that they were
very dear, as he had to give four shillings ‘ a bolt ’ for
them, a bolt being about as much as he could grasp
with both arms.

In these rushes, too, the otters live. I much
doubted their existence so near London, till I saw
their spoor or foot-marks under the high muddy banks ;
and having taken the impression of a dead otter’s foot in
clay, I know it again when I see it. Charon says,
when he is out in the grey of the morning, taking up
his nets, he hears them barking and calling to one
another. On cross-examination, he 4 supposes’ there
must be twenty otters between Windsor and Maiden¬
head. If they exist, they must be very wary animals,
and don’t often show.

A famous hiding-place are these rush islands for the
jack ; as many as twenty-six jack have been caught in a
net in one day, and some of them fine fish ; but the king
of the jacks was caught in the autumn of 1855 at the
first lock above Windsor. Charon informed us that he
had ‘ been after him ’ many days. A big fish has as
much chance of escaping our friend as a noted pick¬
pocket of escaping the detectives at Jullien’s concerts.
At last the big jack was marked down behind the lock-
gate, and was immediately captured. When in the net,

246

FISH AND FISHING.

lie made no resistance at all, but lazily gave up the
ghost at the bottom of the punt ; and so proud was
Charon of him, that ‘he sat up all night ’ watching his
body ; why or wherefore we can’t conjecture, except
that he was looking forward to getting a guinea for him
in the morning. This immense fish was in beautiful
condition ; he weighed upwards of thirty pounds, and
had a barbel three pounds weight in his stomach. He
was caught a few days after a flood, when the water
was beginning to run off. It is therefore probable that
he escaped out of some pond higher up the river and
swam downwards in search of adventures, which ad¬
ventures turned out unfortunately for him. Charon is
also of this opinion; for had he been a river fish, he
says, he would have had his wife near him, as jack
generally live in pairs. Nets and divers devices were put
into requisition to catch the female fish ; but she, like a
wise fish, had remained at home to be 4 preserved ’ in
water, not, like her husband, to be 4 preserved ’ in a glass
case in varnish.

But this is not the only large fish Charon ever caught;
it was he who captured the last salmon ever seen in the
Thames above London. Forty years have passed since
the last of his species, in. the Thames, became a victim
to the cupidity of man. This poor fish had a favourite
hole near Surley Hall, which was at last found out, and
his destruction deteumined upon. Accordingly one day
the hole was surrounded with nets on every side, and
the fishermen made sure of their prey ; but they were
mistaken. The salmon discovered suddenly that there
was treachery, and, like a brave and wise fish, he made
a jump, not into the net, — he was too knowing for that, —
but right over it, escaping triumphant, for a time at least.

FISH AND FISHING.

247

Some days afterwards he returned home to his hole ;
the nets were again put round him ; but this time, on to
the cork lines of the nets which were in the water, was
fastened a net, which remained suspended in the air by a
string. Again the salmon made a rush and a jump ; he
got well over the net in the water, but fell, of course, into
the net suspended in the air. He died an inglorious
death, but his remains were honoured by becoming ‘a
dainty dish to set before a King ;’ for he was taken to
the King, then residing at Virginia Water, who gave the
lucky netter a guinea a pound for his fish : twenty
guineas for a few hours’ work ! But, alas ! salmon in
the Thames are now as extinct as Dodos in the Mauri¬
tius. It is Charon’s opinion that the salmon are kept
away from the Thames, not by the steamers or by the
sewrage matter in the water, but by the drainage from
the gas-works. He gave his reasons at the time he
told us this, and we were persuaded to back his theory.

Kot many years ago there came a great flood, and
this flood had no respect for the royal fish-ponds, but
flooded them also. We understand that when the water
subsided very many fine specimens of fish were caught
in the Thames by our friend Charon : these fish had
escaped from the royal preserves, never again to return
there. A somewhat similar instance has occurred .at Ox¬
ford, where, within the last two years, great numbers of
Prussian carp have been caught, where no carp were
caught before. I understand that the original stock
came from a gentleman’s pond, and the fish got out in
the flood time. That terrible weed which has done so
much harm in Cambridgeshire has got up to Oxford, and
is filling up the ditches in Christchurch meadow, and
the shallow water where the boats are stationed, very

248

FISH AND FISHING.

fast ; we wonder swans are not turned down to eat it,
for they thrive upon it. Mr. Quekett informs me that a
species of mussel (Dreissei a polymorpha) has been im¬
ported from abroad, and began by making a colony in
the docks, in the neighbourhood of London ; thence it
has gradually spread, and is now working its way up the
Thames and its tributaries.

Among thick banks of weeds in shallow places, in
the neighbourhood of deep water, the jack delights to
bask — a fatal habit for him : many a jack have I
wired in the neighbourhood of Oxford when basking in
this way.* On watching a jack in a vivarium I re-

* Capital jack trolling may be had in the neighbourhood of
Windsor during the autumn and winter ; and I have known
many fine fish taken by a single rod in one day. Jack trollers
would do well to examine a very pretty little contrivance in¬
vented by Mr. Andersson, fishing-tackle maker, of 72, Long
Acre, to facilitate the running out of the line, when a dead or
other bait is attached to it. Ordinarily speaking, the fixed loop
on the top of the rod is not placed in such a position as to allow
the line to run freely when a cast is made in a side direction.
Mr. Andersson has invented a loop of solid metal, which, by a
very pretty but simple contrivance, moves readily either to the
right or left according to the direction in which the line is cast.
He calls it ‘ the steel swivel loop.’ To effect the same purpose,
and to ease the friction of the line through the ordinary wire
loop, he has invented a very neat little roller, like that inserted
into a common pulley: this he calls the roller loop. I am no fly-
fisherman myself, never having had the opportunity to practise
the art ; but I have seen in Mr. Andersson’s shop a very neat¬
looking fly-rod, the lengths of which are fastened together by
exactly the same sort of joint as that used for ladies' parasols ;
the advantage being, that all the lengths of the rod can be folded
up parallel to the bottom length, even without removing the line.
It might also prove useful in getting through a hedge, as the rod
could be unfastened in the centre or at any other joint and re¬
fixed in a minute without disturbing the line.

FISH AND FISHING.

249

marked a curious provision given him, to enable him to
thrive well in this stagnant water. All fish breathe by
means of their gills. The little red slips we see forming
the gills contain blood-vessels, and the blood becomes
aerated by means of these quasi lungs being waved
backwards and forwards in the water. A fish, like a
man, requires a perpetual supply of air to his breathing
apparatus, whether that be gills or lungs. A fish gets
his air from the water, a man gets it from the atmo¬
sphere around him. Reverse the position of the fish and
the man, and the former becomes what is called
‘drowned’ in the open air, the man is ‘drowned’ in the
water. Sir B. Brodie writes : ‘ Although a diversity of
opinions may have existed formerly as to the mode in
which submersion in water produces death, there is no
such diversity at the present time. Death from drown¬
ing is similar to death in consequence of strangulation ;
and the want of the due oxygenation, or decarbonization
of the blood, is the sole cause of the animal’s destruction.
A fish taken out of water dies from drowning, the cause
being equally ‘ the want of the due oxygenation or
decarbonization of the blood.’ In both cases the air
cannot get to the breathing apparatus : in the case of the
man because the water intervenes, in the case of the
fish because the numerous little blood-containing fila¬
ments which compose the gills become stuck together,
and of course cannot act. This is the meaning of the
violent gasping of the fish when taken out of water : it
is endeavouring to separate the gill filaments, but
cannot do so without the intervention of water. We have
heard of fishermen drowning the fish, and drowning
him in the water. Immediately a fish is hooked, he
begins rushing about in a state of alarm, and thus,

250

FISH AND FISHING.

every minute, takes more and more out of himself, till
at last he begins to get tired, and to flag. Then the
fisherman wakes him up, and causes him to continue his
exertions to get free ; and, of course, the faster he
moves the faster he breathes, and the more exhausted
he becomes. After a while the strength of the rod and
line, or, rather, of the man’s arm at the end of it, be¬
comes superior to the strength of the fish ; and the fisher¬
man gently pulls the fish’s head to the surface of the
stream, between wind and water. Then, upon the ex¬
hausted system of the fish is superadded obstruction in
breathing, and the creature becomes more and more faint
as its head is elevated out of the water. His gills stick
together, and he ultimately becomes an easy prey — a fish
drowned in the water. I believe, too, that if a fish be
held by a hook in a very rapid stream he would be
drowned, the water rushing on each side of him not
allowing the coverings of the true gill substance to ex¬
pand, so that the breathing-apparatus becomes enclosed
as it were in a tightly-fitting box.

Now the jack living in a favourite stagnant shallow
requires water to be brought perpetually to its gills. The
water does not come of itself, so the fish, I have observed,
keeps continually moving the two fins nearest its gills,
to create a perpetual change in the water, propel¬
ling that which has already passed through the gills, and
bringing fresh in its place. We see in this provision
an admirable instance of the foresight and benevolence of
the great Creator, ever adapting the structure and habits
of the creature to the locality intended for it to occupy.
Again, to go back to the common stickleback for an
instant : this little fish living in shallow stagnant wTater,
by means of a continuous motion of his pectoral fins

FISH AND FISHING.

251

keeps up a current of fluid towards his gills. Neither
to the jack nor the stickleback does the motion appear
to cause any exertion : it seems natural to them, and a
distinct function apart from the motion of the fins for
swimming purposes. It is somewhat analogous to the
perpetual motion of the heart, lungs, and internal viscera
in our own bodies. All this is accomplished by a set of
nerves, — the sympathetic, — over which we have no con¬
trol. It is no exertion to us to keep our hearts or lungs
moving, they are not subject to our will, but sympa¬
thise with the emotions of the body. There is in refer¬
ence to this a passage in the book of Job, which I
consider to be very remarkable. In the thirty-sixth
verse of chapter xxxviii. we find it written, ‘ Who hath
put wisdom in the inward parts? or who hath given un¬
derstanding to the heart ?’

The chapter in which this passage occurs begins with
these words : —

‘ Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind,
and said,

‘ Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without
knowledge ?

‘ Gird up now thy loins like a man ; for I will demand
of thee, and answer thou me.’

The verses which follow, among which are the words
quoted above, at verse 36, are all put in the form of
questions, and refer to the power of the great Creator,
as exemplified in the creation. Phenomena never yet
understood by man — such as the movements and order of
the heavenly bodies, the mysteries of the sea, of thun¬
der, of lightning, of the clouds, of the snow, of the hail,
of the rain, of the ice, of the hoar frost — all are vividly
portrayed to mortals as things beyond their comprehen-

252

FISH AND FISHING.

sion. Let the reader ponder over this and the two
following chapters, and he will be led to feel his own
ignorance of the ways of the Almighty and the thunder
of his power. Many of the passages in Job referring
to physical phenomena, though at first sight unim¬
portant, may have a deeper sense belonging to them,
which requires only a knowledge of actual facts to
render every word full of meaning. Thus we read,
chapter xxxvii.,

‘ Out of the south cometh the whirlwind ; and cold
out of the north.

‘ Also by watering he wearieth the thick cloud : he
scattereth his bright cloud :

‘And it is turned about by his counsels : that they may
do whatsoever he commandeth them upon the face of
the world in the earth.’

Now what is this but an epitome of the theory of
the circular motion of storms, now so fully made out,
understood, and acted upon, to the great advantage of
those who have the necessary knowledge? It would
also apply with equal force to that wonderful regulator
of temperature on the face of the earth, the trade wind.

As regards geological phenomena, we find an ob¬
servation in the book of Job insisted upon by the
Director-general of the Geological Survey, Sir Roderick
I. Murchison, F.R.S., &c., in his beautiful work on
Siluria, who at the end of the chapter upon Job, after
telling us ‘ that the indisputable fact is, that the chief
quantities of gold originally embedded in the upper
parts of the vein, have been broken up and trans¬
ported with the debris of the mountain tops into
adjacent slopes and valleys. Silver and argentiferous
lead, on the contrary, expand so largely downwards into

FISH AND FISHING.

253

the bowels of the earth that they must yield enormous
profits to the miner for ages to come. Sir Roderick
writes : 4 Modern science, instead of contradicting, only
confirms the aphorism of the patriarch Job, who has sha¬
dowed forth the downward persistence of the one, and
the superficial distribution of the other. “ Surely there
is a vein for the silver.” “ The earth has dust of
gold.” ’

In a similar way I would explain the passage, ‘ Who
hath put wisdom in the inward parts ? or who hath given
understanding to the heart?’

As regards the first half of the verse, let me instance
the wonderful process of digestion, whereby nature, in
her secret and living laboratories, works out such mar¬
vellous results. At the lower end of the stomach is a
valve called the pylorus or gate-keeper (7 a gate ;
opao), to overlook). The office of this remarkable valve
is that of a sentry (a sentry, too, that is never relieved,
and yet is always on the alert) to prevent any portion
of food not thoroughly acted upon or dissolved in the
stomach from passing onwards until it is in a fit state to
do so. The dissolved food is caused to traverse the
length of the intestines, which in man is about thirty
feet, or between five and six times the length of the
body — a pretty long tube — by means of what is called
the peristaltic action (ir epi, round about ; <tts \\w, to
draw in, contract). These peristaltic movements con¬
tinue quite unaffected by the will, which has no influence
whatever over them, but yet, curiously enough, the
emotions seem to affect them. We are not conscious of
the passage of the alimentary matter along the canal so
long as it is in a state of health ; but directly anything
is wrong, notice is given by the coming on of pain, or

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FISH AND FISHING.

in other words, a stomach-ache, nature’s mode of attract¬
ing attention, and letting us know that her machinery
is out of order.

Along the whole course of the intestinal canal we
find the lining or mucous membrane furnished with
very numerous folds, or minute tufts, called villi : these
project inwards among the food, now converted into a
pulpy substance, and absorb from it what is nutritious,
allowing to pass what is not so. I might give other
instances of the meaning of this word ‘ wisdom,’ if
it be regarded as having a literal sense applicable to
the functions of the ‘ inward parts,’ but let the above
suffice.

I am well aware that the word ‘ understanding,’ as
applied to the heart, is generally taken in a figurative
point of view, the heart being regarded as the centre of
life. But the heart cannot properly be called ‘the
centre of life.’ Life is, so to speak, supported on a
tripod, the three divisions of which have been so ably
pointed out by the learned Dr. Watson in his ‘ Princi¬
ples and Practice of Medicine.’ ‘ First, there is an
hydraulic apparatus distributed throughout the frame,
consisting of the heart and other blood-vessels. Next
there is a large pneumatic machine, forming a con¬
siderable part of the whole body. Lastly, the power
by which this machine is to be worked and regulated is
vested in the nervous system (the brain and nerves).
Each of these systems must continue in action, or the
circulation w ill stop and life will cease.’ The heart,
therefore, cannot, in the true acceptation of the word,
viz., ‘intellectual powers of mind, faculties of the mind,
especially those of knowledge and judgment,’ be said
to have understanding. But it has understanding

FISH AND FISHING.

255

when it alters its pulsations and regulates the flow of
blood according to circumstances, either external or
internal. If it were not to do so the animal economy
would be upset by its means. Thus, in fever, it ac¬
celerates its action, as a means of throwing off the
poison. The act of blushing is but a minor and tem¬
porary form of the same thing. Both these actions
are quite out of the power of our will, and the heart
performs them of its own accord.

Another kind of fish common about Windsor is the
roach, and these will bite well in the winter time ; but
they are most uncertain feeders. Some days they will
bite as fast as the hook is put in ; another day, the
weather the same, the wind the same, the water the
same, and not a bite will the angler get.

These fish run from two ounces to a pound in weight ;
and capital sport they give. Being delicate biters, a very
small hook must be used, a line of the finest silk-worm
gut, and a small porcupine-quill float. An inexperienced
hand will hardly ever catch fish the first time he
goes out ; for if he expects to see his float suddenly
disappear, he will be disappointed ; a slight jogging of
the float is all he will see. Let him strike quick and
sharp, for Mr. Roach has a very small mouth, with no
teeth in it, so that he sucks in the bait with his pre¬
hensile lips. If we examine the lips of fish, we shall
find another proof, were it required, of beauty and
design, everywhere apparent in the works of the
Omniscient Creator. The roach lives principally upon
small insects and spawn of fresh-water mollusca, which
he finds adhering to the weeds. Unless he had these
prehensile lips, how would he manage to get his
dinner? Again, examine the mouth of a sprat (an un-

256

FISH AND FISHING.

cooked one, mind) ; it looks a little tiny mouth, not
large enough to admit a pin’s head ; but just push down
ihe lower jaw, and what will you see? Why one of
the most beautiful insect nets that it is possible to con¬
ceive ; a net into which you can get the top of your
little finger, and, of necessity, terribly destructive
among the minute sea creatures which the sprat feeds
on : those pretty little animals which cause the sea to
be luminous at night forming, doubtless, part of the bill
of fare.

Lately, when going over to Guernsey in the steam¬
boat, the captain was feeding the gulls, which followed
the boat, with sprats, of which there were many baskets
full on board. Sending coals to Newcastle, thought I ;
but I soon learned there were no sprats caught near the
Channel Islands. I showed the captain the mechanism
of the sprat’s mouth, and he informed me that, when
opened, it much resembled the net used by fishermen in
catching the sprat itself; so that the fish has furnished
his captor with a pattern for an instrument to work out
its destruction.

On my return from Guernsey, I determined to try to
catch one of these gulls. I accordingly procured a very
long fishing-line, and some fine hooks, tied to common
gut ; on these hooks I placed bits of fish, and cast my
line behind the steamer. It was quite wonderful how
soon a gull would see the bait, and dart at it. But, alas !
I never got a single bite at my hook ; the birds were
too sharp-sighted ; in every instance just as the gull was
about to seize the hook, he suddenly turned aside as if
suspecting that all was not right : and, although hover¬
ing over the tempting morsel for many minutes, his
quick eye detected the thin gut or the string, and wisely

FISH AND FISHING.

257

he did not try the experiment, but left the bit of fish
to jump up and down in the steamer’s wake, and my¬
self at the other end of the string, looking foolish, and
well exemplifying Johnson’s definition of an angler— a
worm at one end and a fool at the other. What made
me more angry was that the gulls would pick up in¬
stantly any bit of fish that was thrown out without a
hook, however small it was. How keen must be the
sight of these birds to discern a bit of fish not so big
as a shilling, in the frothy sea, at the wake of the
steamer ! How, again, did these beautiful birds manage
to keep up with the vessel, which was going pretty fast
through the water? They never seemed to move their
wings as in flight, but simply to glide onwards, as
though attracted to the ship’s stern by some magnetic
power. Let the reader examine the pectoral or breast
muscles of the next gull he kills, he will find them one
solid mass of firm hard muscle admirably adapted to
sustain and work the wings. What models of beauty
and lightness are the wings of the gull ! The bones are
composed of the hardest possible kind of bone material
arranged in a tubular form, combining the greatest
possible strength with the greatest possible lightness.
If we make a section of the wing bone of a gull, or,
better still, of that of an albatross, we shall find that it
is a hollow cylinder like a wheat straw ; but in order
to give it still further strength, we see many little
pillars of bone about the thickness of a needle extending
across from side to side : these buttress-like pillars are
in themselves very strong, and do not break easily under
the finger. Again, at the top of the bone we find two or
three holes which communicate with the interior : through
these, when the bird is alive, pass tubes which are con-

s

258

FISH AND FISHING.

nected with the lungs ; so that when the bird starts for a
flight, he fills his wing and other bones with air, causing
them to act somewhat like a balloon on each side of him.
This explains one of the chief reasons why man will never
be able to fly ; his arm bones are filled with marrow of
which he cannot by any means get rid, should he be ever
so anxious to fly like a bird.

The gannet or solan goose is a bird that seems per¬
fectly indifferent to stormy weather and to cold ; if any
bird is abroad battling with the elements it is the gannet.
This is by some considered as a sign of courage on the
part of the bird, but it is not so much pluck as con¬
fidence in its powers. The air-cells which give light¬
ness to its body are developed in an extraordinary
degree, so much so that Mr. G. Montagu writes (1808) :
‘ The gannet is capable of containing about three full in¬
spirations of my lungs, divided into nearly three equal
portions, the cellular parts under the skin on each side
holding nearly as much as the cavity of the body.’ Now,
as a full or extraordinary expiration of the human lungs
has been considered to occupy a space of about sixty
cubic inches, so the gannet is capable of containing not
less than 180 cubic inches of air at one time, subject
to its will. And it must be recollected that the gannet
is not a very large bird, to contain all this air. This
bird is accustomed to dart suddenly down from a con¬
siderable height upon the fish which it sees on the sur¬
face of the water : its air-padded skin and body lessens
the concussion, and prevents its being dashed to pieces.
Again, nothing could possibly conduce more to its secu¬
rity against intense cold, or be better adapted to pre¬
serve its animal heat, than this intermediate space of air
between the skin and the body — on the same princip.o

FISH AND FISHING.

259

that we sometimes put double windows to our houses in
very cold weather. The Russians, I hear, have their
panes of glass sometimes three or four double, with an
interspace between each pane, to keep out the cold, so
intense in northern latitudes.

I had brought a fish with me, when gull-fishing from
the steamer, to cut up for bait for the gulls : it was of the
species called rock fish, its habitat being among the rocks.
Upon examining the head of this fish, I found that it had
a beautiful contrivance in the conformation of its mouth.
Its food consists of small shell-fish, spawn of shells, &c.,
which adhere firmly to the rock : now how was the fish to
pull these off? In the anterior part of the mouth, both
in the upper and lower jaw, we find several teeth project¬
ing in a forward direction ; but this is not all : sup¬
pose a dainty bit of food is espied snugly concealed deep
down in a small hole, how' is the fish to get it out ? It has
the power of prolongating both its jaws to nearly the
extent of half an inch from their natural position ; this
is done by a most beautiful bit of mechanism, somewhat
on the principle of what are called ‘ lazy tongs.’ When
the jaw is in a natural position, the mouth looks not
unlike the mouth of an ordinary fish ; but pull the teeth,
and out will come half an inch of retractile jaws. Thus
this fish is fully equipped with a contrivance, by means
of which he obtains his daily food. Who can look at this
without seeing in it a proof of an omniscient and kind
Creator ? In Plate III. Fig. 4, is a drawing of the head
of the rock fish, with the retractile jaws well expanded :
the teeth are seen arming the front edges of both jaws.
If in a fresh state the finger were pressed against the
teeth gently, the jaws would go back, and the fish’s head
would assume the look of an ordinary round-mmithee!

5 2

260

FISH AND FISHING.

fish. Take, again, another form of mouth in the fish
tribe — the common gurnard. This fish lives at the
bottom of the water, and hunts about among the sand
and mud for its food. To enable him to do this, the
bones of the head are composed of a bone-like material,
like the skin of a sturgeon, and not of a soft substance
like the head of a mackerel. These bones end in a
shovel-shaped projection, almost amounting to a snout,
at the top of which there are eight very hard bony pegs.
With this snout he probably pokes about among the mud,
and stirs up the animals he feeds on, which he then
easily catches with his capacious mouth. He has also
three things like fingers on each side of his head, which
probably assist him to feel about, for he lives in very
deep water, where there cannot be much light. The
position of his eyes tells us this also, for they are placed
quite at the top of his head, and in an upward direction,
so as to catch every ray of light coming from above.

The only fish that is, so to speak, domesticated — viz.
the gold-fish — is a capital example of an infusorial
feeder. These poor things when kept in glass globes,
live apparently upon nothing. Give them, however,
fresh water frequently and they will get fat— that is, as
fat as fish ever will get. The bits of bread thrown in
they seldom eat. Upon what, then, do they thrive ?
Why, upon the small, invisible animals, that abound in
the water. If the exuviae of these fish be examined
with a microscope, the flinty skeletons of these said small,
invisible animals will be seen in abundance, their bodies
having been digested by their devourer, the gold-fish.
We can no more deny that the fish has fed upon
infusoria, under these circumstances, than we can deny
that an owl has eaten a rat when we pick up the rat’s

FISH AND FISHING.

261

skeleton and fur matted together, as ejected from the
crop of this benefactor to the farmer.

I once lost a pet hedgehog. High and low I hunted
for it, but nowhere was it found. The next day, when
going to feed an eagle I kept tied up in the garden, I
found a large ball underneath his perch, which turned
out to be composed of poor hedgehog’s bristles, bones,
and skin. The unsuspecting brute had gone out at
night into the garden to look for slugs and beetles, but
had unluckily come across the eagle, who had made
mince-meat of him, though it is still a puzzle to me
why the hedgehog’s sharp bristles did not stick in the
eagle’s throat and choke him.

I was informed by a man, who wanted to sell me five
gold-fish, and the bowl in which they were, for ten
shillings, tha-t the fish he buys are bred by a gentleman
near Amsterdam, and sent over by hundreds, in zinc
tanks, on board the Dutch eel-boats. From another
source, I learn that there is a breeding-pond near or at
Bradford, in Yorkshire, and the fish are sent up thence
by rail to London. Gold-fish are said to have been
originally confined to a lake near the mountain Tsien-
tsing, in China. They were first brought to Europe in
the seventeenth century, and continued very rare in
England till the year 1728, when a fresh accession was
received. The first which were seen in France were
brought for Madame de Pompadour.

When they were cleaning out the basins of the foun¬
tains at C haring-cross, I asked the foreman if he ever
found any fish at the bottom, when the water had been
drawn off. He told me that sometimes gold-fish were
found, and that he imagined they got there out of the
glass globes of the men who go about the streets selling

262

FISH AND FISHING.

gold fish, and who come to the Cha ring-cross fountains
to change the water. During this operation, a gold-fish
or two might easily escape ; or, if the glass bowl got
broken (they are not made of very thick glass) against
the side of the basin the pool would at once become
well stocked.

Some four years ago, I bought in Hungerford-mar-
ket a quantity of small eels, and taking them home,
placed them in a large tub ; but they did not thrive, so
I tied them up in a handkerchief, and transferred them
to the Charing-cross basins. I heard no more of them
till a friend told me of a paragraph he had seen in a
newspaper, stating that some good-sized eels had been
found in the basins at Charing-cross ; and that the
newspaper correspondent accounted for their presence
by supposing ‘ that they had escaped from the fish¬
mongers’ shops at Hungerford-market, and had gone to
the nearest water by instinct.’ Now, in the first place,
this is not the nearest water ; the Thames is nearer to the
market than Charing-cross. Next, imagine an eel
escaping from a fishmonger’s, crossing over the crowded
Strand, and climbing up the sides of the stone basins
to get into the water ! I know that eels will travel from
place to place ; but I much doubt their ever taking
such a journey as attributed to them by the newspaper
correspondent, who needed not to have resorted to such
an ingenious, but impossible theory, had he seen me put
the eels into the basins some months before.

In the fountain in the Temple Gardens, eels are fre¬
quently found. The water comes from the New River,
and it is quite probable that they get into the pipes
when quite small, and afterwards grow in the fountain.
Mr. Quekett had an eel some years since that stopped

FISH AND FISHING.

263

up a water-pipe leading1 to a fishmonger’s shop in Clare-
market. The pipe was taken up, and examined, and in
it was found a blind eel nearly two pounds weight.
The largest eel I ever saw was found dead in a pond at
Mr. Drury’s house, at Shotover, near Oxford. It was
supposed to have died of old age, for no marks of injury
were found on it. It is now preserved in the Ashmolean
Museum. I understand, from a friend just returned
from New Zealand, that enormous eels are found in the
rivers there, larger than any he ever saw in England.

In the museum of the College of Surgeons there is a
bottle, containing a curious-looking cake, composed of
many hundreds of small eels : close by in another bottle
are several of these little eels, separate. They are about
two inches long, white, and transparent. These eels
are found at Langport, in Somersetshire, where, at cer¬
tain seasons of the year, they are caught in thousands,
and after being placed in scalding water, are pressed into
a mould, and are then, as Mr. Quekett tells me, the most
delicious eating. The air-bladder of the eel is very
remarkable. Mr. Quekett has published a paper on
this subject in the Microscopical Transactions. He in¬
jected the bladders of many fish, and, from the peculiar
distribution of the blood-vessels in them, is led to be¬
lieve that they perform some function connected with
respiration. In the eels, the structure of the bladder
much resembles that of the lung of the snake ; but the
real function of the air-bladder in fish, though the sub¬
ject has been deeply inquired into by many physiolo¬
gists, remains a mystery.

It is well known that eels are very sensitive to
changes in the weather ; and they are generally on the
move when thunder is about, or, in other words, when

264

FISH AND FISHING.

the atmosphere is charged with electricity. This fact is
curious, in connection with the so-called electrical eel,
which seems to have a store of bottled electricity always
ready for use. Eels, too, are much affected by frost.
On this subject I learn from my friend Mr. Turner,
of St. Leonard’s, who, in his capacity of surgeon on
board ships going to and from India, has made
many curious and good observations in natural history,
that, in the months of January and February, 1855,
the conger-eels, in the sea opposite St. Leonard’s, were
affected by the frost in a most remarkable manner. He
writes to me : —

‘During the intense cold (Jan. 1855), some few miles
out at sea, thousands of conger-eels were found floating
on the surface of the water. They could progress readily
in any direction, but could not descend, and consequently
fell an easy prey, the boatmen catching them by means
of hooks on the end of a long stick. In this manner no
less than eighty tons were captured, of all sizes, some
being as much as six feet long, and of a surprising cir¬
cumference. The greater part of them were sent to
London per rail. One of them I opened, and found the
air-vessel distended with air to the utmost, so as to com¬
pletely close the valvular opening. It was this, evidently,
that buoyed them up. No other fish were observed in
the same condition. The thermometer at this time was
very low, and one night went down to 16°. On the
17th Feb.. I have a note, that as the tide receded, the
beach was left as if covered with snow, but on an exa¬
mination, this appearance was found to be owing to
crystals, as if of frozen sea-water.’

I learn that these congers are eaten in London, prin¬
cipally by the Jews, who are very fond of them. The

FISH AND FISHING.

265

neighbourhood of Petticoat-lane is the great market for
them.

The fisherman at Teddington lock, Mr. Kemp, a
very civil and intelligent man, tells me that the Jews,
during 4 their holidays’ (I suppose some festival of their
church) eat nothing but fish, and at that time they will
buy as many barbel as he can catch. Barbel is a coarse-
flavoured fish, but the Jews do not seein to mind that.
The Jews are the best judges and cooks of fish in the
world. I have ascertained that they generally fry them
in boiling sweet oil.

Fish, in general, are very difficult to transport, but I can
readily imagine that a gold-fish would bear a long journey,
as they are of the carp tribe, and will exist, and thrive too,
in very foul and dirty water : when even taken com¬
pletely out of water they will live a very long time. The
conformation of their gills explains this. The gill
filaments do not readily adhere together, and so they
continue to breathe if there is any moisture at all left in
their gills, whereas most other fish soon get suffocated out
of water, as previously explained. I once had a curious
confirmation of this fact. I was invited to the clearing
out of a pond in the neighbourhood of London, which
was full of gold-fish. I arrived late in the day ; the
work had been all done, and in an out-house I was
shown a common water-cart, such as is used to water
the roads, quite full of gold-fish, nearly all of them
alive, all quite small, none weighing above three
ounces. The owner kindly gave me a dozen, which
I placed in wet grass, and then in a cloth in a carpet¬
bag. There the fish remained all night. On my arrival
in London, the afternoon of the following day, I placed
them in water, and found, to my surprise, that half of

266

FISH AND FISHING,

them were still alive, having passed a night and half a
day in a carpet-bag. Those that were dead, I cooked :
they were like carp, and I cannot say good eating.
Those that were alive, I transferred to a glass bowl. In
a few hours they were well and swimming about, though
at first they rolled about in the water as if intoxi¬
cated. I was informed that the pond having been
cleaned out, the water-cart was wheeled to its margin,
and the gold-fish turned in again. Two-thirds of them
recovered, and are living in the pond to this day.
These fish were taken out of the water on Monday
morning early, and remained in the water-cart till
Tuesday afternoon ! Who, after this, will doubt the
vitality of the gold-fish ? I understand that no young
gold-fish are ever seen in this pond : they do not seem to
breed. I believe they do breed, but the spawn never
comes to anything ; because the ducks get at it, whilst
it adheres to the weeds in the pond, and eat it all up.
Another cause why these fish do not increase, is that
they devour each other. The spawn is eaten, and
the young fish also, by their comrades.

Well aware that gold-fish will live in very high tem¬
peratures, I was anxious to obtain further particulars
on this point, and I applied to my friend Dr. Warden,
of Manchester, who kindly obtained from Mr. Hall, of
the marble works, Derby, the following particulars,
which he has obligingly allowed me to print. £ You
have been correctly informed as to the breeding ol
gold-fish in reservoirs used for cooling down the water
from the condensers of steam-engines. I have myself a
small tank or reservoir in a yard where I have kept
gold-fish for the last thirty years. It was at first stocked
from a pond in the neighbourhood with half-a-dozen

FISH AND FISHING.

267

fish, which were about twelve years old then ,• — the
longest survivor of them only died about ten months
ago, June 1857, and I have many now from twenty to
twenty-eight years old. As my place was constructed
to keep them for amusement only, and not for breeding
them rapidly, it was not made of a proper form for the
latter purpose, having walls square up from the bottom ;
but for breeding it should have been run out into
shallows. These fish (and I presume others also) eat up
all the spawn they can find, and should any spawn
escape they eat the young fry ; and even the young ones
three months old will devour their vounger brethren
only just born : so that, in a tank with upright sides,
there is little chance of any escaping ; but if the recep¬
tacle run out into shallows, the smaller fish can easily
keep in a small depth of water out of harm’s way. The
propensity of these fish to devour their own young is no
doubt a provision of nature to prevent their over in¬
crease ; however, to enable some to escape, they are
born nearly the colour of the moss which grows on the
sides of the pond, and begin to change to red in the
course of a year, when they are about an inch in length.
The old ones seem to take very little notice of them.
To keep up the stock I have been obliged to take out
the spawn and keep the young fish during the first few
months of their lives in separate vessels.

( These fish live in extremes of heat and cold. The
water in my place flows in at the top, and consequently
all the hot water keeps uppermost. The temperature of
this has occasionally been as high as 90° and at the
bottom not more than 30°, yet all the fish keep close to
the top in the hottest part. Then, again, in winter, when
the conducting pipes have been frozen up, the pond also

268

FISH AND FISHING.

has been frozen, and all we do is to break the ice every
day to give a supply of air.’

The Serpentine in London contains some fish, but
not many. I see men and boys frequently fishing on
the south bank, but they never seem to catch anything
except a few roach and bream. It has been said that
the reason why fish do not abound in the Serpentine is
that the water-fowl eat up the spawn before it has time
to hatch, but there does not appear to be a sufficient
quantity of birds to do much execution in this way.
Ducks are, however, terribly destructive to fish-spawn
in some places, as the fish generally place it in the
shallows, just where the ducks love to hunt for food.
The most probable reason why fish are scarce in ‘ Loch
Serpentine/ as it has been aptly called, is that the
water is so very dirty, and charged with decaying
animal matter, that they positively cannot live there.
This summer I bought three ffood-sized bream, from a
man who had caught them in this dirty pond, and I had
them cooked for dinner ; they tasted so strongly of the
foul mud, that to call them simply ‘ nasty’ would be a
stretch of politeness. From the Knightsbridge barrack
window I have a capital view of the Serpentine. In
April, it was of a dark mud colour seen from the dis¬
tance ; about June, it assumed a greenish hue ; and now
(August) it has the same appearance as the sea in a calm.
This is due, I imagine, to the hatching of thousands of
minute infusoria, and the generation of minute vegetable
matter. Both the animals and the plants assimilate
and convert into their own forms what would otherwise
fly off in the form of gas and miasma, and be injurious
to the Londoners who walk on the banks. Thus
nature partially works her own cure. In reference to

FISH AND FISHING.

269

this point, a gentleman who has been much engaged in
engineering works in Holland, informs me that the
canals and ditches in some of the Dutch towns smell
most offensively till the water becomes green, and then
the smell disappears : the same thing that happens in
the Serpentine happens in Holland. I have lately
seen a blue book containing drawings of the little
beasts and the vegetable matter from the Serpentine.
These little animalculae are generally looked upon as
being the cause of all the foulness of the Serpentine,
but the saddle is put on the wrong horse. If these
little creatures and plants did not come into existence,
the miasma from the decaying matter would be insup¬
portable. The Serpentine is capable of being im¬
proved in many ways, into which it would be foreign to
the subject now to enter.

Frogs are seldom found in ponds where ducks are kept.
The ducks devour the tadpoles, and have no objection to
young frogs, even if they have got over the tadpole state.
Mr. Quekett tells me, that in the neighbourhood of Wil-
lesden there are no wells, and each householder has a
pond : these are kept free from newts and frogs by the
keeping a jack in them, who eats up every frog and newt
that makes its appearance. I once saw a little boy fish¬
ing in the Serpentine with very primitive tackle. All of
a sudden there came a tug at his line, nearly pulling the
rod out of his hands. He gave a jerk upwards in answer
to the unexpected bite, and out came a lively black eel
about two pounds in weight. The boy was so frightened
at the writhing eel that he put down his rod and ran
away, leaving the eel on the grass.

N ight lines are forbidden in the Serpentine. We have
all seen the pretty little model sailing-boats scudding

270

FISH AND FISHING.

across the Serpentine, with all their neat white rigging
glistening in the sun. Who would imagine that some of
these harmless little craft are up to mischief? I have
learnt that towards the close of the evening, when it is
getting dusk, a night line is neatly coiled up on the
deck of the pigmy frigate, and she is set to sail across.
As she sails, the night line plays out, unseen by anybody,
from her stern. One end of the line is tied to a stone, which
is thrown a little way into the water, at the moment the
ship starts : this acts as a weight to keep the line at the
bottom, the other end of the line is loose on deck. By
the time the frigate nears the opposite shore, all the
line has been payed out, and she sails in right under the
nose of the park-keeper, with nothing on her deck. She
has, nevertheless, been transgressing the laws, though
she looks so innocent. In the morning the owner comes
and fishes out the stone which he has thrown in with
the line attached, and sometimes gets rewarded with an
eel for his trouble. In the evening between eight and
nine bathing is permitted, and on a warm day hundreds
of boys get into the water. They are principally, I
imagine, boys who have been employed all the day in
manufactures, judging from their dress. About half¬
past eight the water is alive with them, and they look,
from the barrack windows, like a lot of white tadpoles
clustering along the shore.

Again, to return to the perch. Its mouth will admit
two fingers, also a minnow or a gudgeon, when the perch
wishes to catch one. Ask for a perch-hook at the
fishing-tackle shop, and you will find you will be
presented with a pretty large one.

The best bait for perch is a live minnow ; the perch
can’t resist it ; he comes at it with a rush, and is caught by

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the hook, which is only just run through the upper lip
of the minnow. In order, therefore, to be hooked, he
must swallow the bait, beginning at the tail end; this
his capacious mouth enables him well to do.

I have lately heard of a capital plan to catch perch,
and likewise to keep the shoal together while you are
pulling out the individual fish. It is to place several
live minnows in a decanter of uncut glass, and then
sink it, with a string attached, deep into the water. The
perch, who can’t make out the glass, keep rushing at the
encaged minnows, which they cannot, of course, reach ;
they lose their tempers, and their appetites are sharp¬
ened ; therefore the more readily do they take the
baited and spinning minnow, which you artfully troll
close to your decoy bottle.

A fine perch was found floating dead, on the top of
the water in a pond, in one of the gardens at Oxford :
upon examination, it was found to be very thin, and ap¬
parently starved to death. Some devotee of the ‘ gentle
art ’ had been the unconscious cause of the sad fate of
this poor fish ; for a hook was found firmly fixed in his
upper jaw, the shank of which projected so far beyond
his mouth that his efforts to obtain food must have
been useless : the hook always projecting forwards, kept
him at a tantalizing distance from the desired morsel.
The fish I have dried, and preserved with the hook
fixed in his mouth. I give a drawing of this head,
Plate III. Fig. 2.

But fishes which, like perch, are provided with sharp
prickles, occasionally cause the death of those creatures
that feed upon them. A kingfisher was brought to me
in the summer of 1848, by a boy who had found it dead
on the banks of the river Cherwell, near Oxford. No

272

FISH AND FISHING.

shot or other marks of injury were found on it, the
feathers being- perfectly smooth, dry, and unstained.
What, then, was the cause of death ? Upon a careful exa¬
mination, I found the end of a small fish’s tail protrud¬
ing from one of the corners of its mouth. I endeavoured
to drag it out but in vain, it was firmly fixed. By dis¬
section, I found that the fish in question was one of the
finny tribe which abound in shallow water, and which
are called in Oxford the bull’s head, or miller’s thumb.
They have a strong prickle, nearly a quarter of an inch
long, with very sharp and firm ends, projecting on each
side of the gills. The fish had, in its struggles, pro¬
truded its prickles, which, sticking in the enemy’s gullet,
had effectually stopped up the entrance, and pressing
on the windpipe caused its death. Plate III. Fig. 3.

Mr. Quekett has observed a case exactly parallel
to this. When fishing at Great Marlow, he saw a dab-
chick floundering about in the water, as if something
was the matter with it. He secured it, and found that
it was choking with a miller’s thumb in its throat. The
bird is now stuffed, and can be seen at the College of
Surgeons, with the fish still in the gullet. When
the same gentleman was angling for perch in a Scotch
lake, he sent a boy for some minnows ; the bov
brought back sticklebacks. One of these was put on the
hook, and a perch was caught ; another perch then bit
at the hook and carried the bait, but was not taken.
Mr. Quekett afterwards went to another spot, but re¬
turning in the evening cast in his line where he had
missed the perch. He caught a perch immediately, and,
upon examining his mouth, found the stickleback he
had lost off his hook some hours before firmly fixed in
the perch’s throat. The stickleback had erected the

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273

spine oil liis back, which had caught and fixed him
firmly in the gullet of his devourer.

An intelligent lady tells me she once had a pet owl.
The bird all of a sudden refused its food : it sat upon its
perch, and got thiimer and thinner every day, and at
last it died. The hard horny bill of a chicken was
found sticking right across its gullet : thus the poor
thing was starved to death.

Should you ever be lucky enough to catch a large jack,
mind how you take the hook out of his mouth ; for it is
lined with a terrible array of long, sharp teeth, all set
backwards ; once inside, it is very difficult to get out
again, whether the captured object be a man’s finger or
a fish. Sharp points have these teeth, as the troller
knows well, when he pnlls up his bait scored on both
sides, after he has had an unsuccessful run.

The barbel, on the contrary, has not a tooth in his
head : his mouth is made for poking about among the
stones at the bottom of the river and procuring his prey,
which consists of almost anything. He is a regular fresh¬
water pig, and lives by picking up what he can find,
be it animal or be it vegetable : a good big lob-worm,
however, he can’t resist, as I have discovered to my
great delight. That most observant of poets, Hood, has
aptly recorded this grubbing propensity of the barbel in
the following lines :

‘ In they went and hunted about,

Open mouthed, like chub or trout,

And some with upper lip thrust out,

Like that fish for routing— a barbel.'

When a barbel is hooked, he always endeavours to
strike at the line with his tail, to break it. Now if we

T

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examine the back fin of the barbel, we shall find that
the first ray of it is cut out into deep notches, just like a
saw, and I always fancy that the barbel in these struggles
is endeavouring to use this saw-Like fin. It can be of no
use to him, however, as regards severing the line, for the
serrations are quite covered by the membrane which
envelopes this first ray of the fin, in common with the
other rays. The use of it I imagine to be to steady and
steer him in the rapid currents and mill streams in
which he lives. If we move the serrated ray upwards,
we find the whole fin follows it, and is kept tense by it ;
let it go, the fin again sinks down. In the mast of the
London barge we find a parallel contrivance ; when
about to pass under a bridge, the men let down the sail
(the fin), which is attached to a strong mast (the serrated
ray), and which works from the deck by means of a joint.
Having passed under the bridge, the men hoist up
the mast, and the sail becomes tense. This is exactly
what the barbel does, only that his sail (as it were) is
opposed to water, and not to wind. The barge makes
headway by means of this contrivance, so does the bar¬
bel. This, again, is a pretty instance of adaptation of
means to ends.

The boys at Windsor have an ingenious plan of their
own to catch barbel : they throw out their line into the
stream, generally in a shallow at the tail of a rapid
current, and attach it to a strong and flexible twig of
willow. They then, having fixed several of these rude
kind of rods, retire to a distance, where the fish cannot
see them. The moment the fish takes the hook, the top of
the twig begins to bend, then they come up and play him.
They generally have good sport, as there is no noise and
no shadow on the water, and the fish’s suspicions are not

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275

roused. In France, they fix a fishing-rod which has a
little bit of whalebone at the top, with a bell attached ;
when a fish strikes the bell gives notice.

At St. Leonard’s I picked up a dog-fish, and found
that this fish, also, has a spine in his back fin. My father,
in his Bridgewater Treatise, mentions this fact : ‘ The
common dog-fish, or spine-shark, has a horny elevator
spine on each of his dorsal fins, but without teeth or
hooks.’ By means of this fact he explains what some

curious fossil objects really are. These have been

called Ichthyodorulites (a hard name, but easily ex
plained by the help of a Lexicon, Ix^Q a fish? £opu a
spear, and Xidog a stone, fossil fish-spears, there¬
fore). He writes : ‘ The bony spines of the Port
Jackson shark throw important light on the history

of fossil spines, and enable us to refer those very

common but little-understood fossils, which have been
called Ichthyodorulites, to extinct genera and species
of the family of Cestracions (a kind of shark).
Several living species of the great family of sharks have
smooth horny spines connected with the dorsal fin.
In the Cestracion Philippi alone we find a bony spine,
armed on its concave side with tooth-like prickles, similar
to those which occur in fossil Ichthyodorulites. These
tooth-like prickles, or hooks, act as points of suspension
and attachment, whereby the dorsal fin is connected with
the bony spine and its movements regulated by t lie
elevation or depression of that spine during the peculiar
rotatory action of the body of the shark.* The great
variety of fossil spines, from the Silurian series to the

* This rotatory action I have observed in the barbel also,
when I have been playing him on the end of my line in a mill
tail.

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FISH AND FISHING.

chalk inclusive, indicates the number of extinct genera
and species, of the family of the sharks, that occupied the
water throughout these early periods of time. Not less
varied are the forms of palate bones and teeth, in the same
formations that contain these spines ; but as the cartila¬
ginous skeletons have usually perished, and the teeth
and spines are generally dispersed, it is chiefly by the
aid of anatomical analogies, or from occasional juxta¬
position in the same stratum, that their respective
species can be ascertained.’ Writing about sharks, I may
be pardoned for giving an account of a creature which
was said to be a veritable sea-snake, and which, upon
examination, turned out, as most other sea-snakes
have done, to be something else, and not a sea-
snake.

In the year 1808 a great sea-snake was reported
to have been cast ashore on the island of Stronsa, one
of the Orkneys. Dr. Barclay published an account of
it in the Memoirs of the Wernerian Natural History
Society. In order to substantiate his account, he ap¬
pends the affidavits of four of the inhabitants of the
island, and thus we read : ‘ Compeared Thomas Fother-
mgham, house-carpenter in Kirkwall, who solemnly
declared that he went to see the strange fish which had
been driven on shore in Rothiesholm Bay ; that he
measured it with a foot rule, and found it to be exactlv
fifty-five feet long ; that the wings of the animal were
jointed near the ridge of the back ; that the mane or
bristles of the back extended from the shoulder to
within two feet and a half of the tail ; that part of
the bones of the lower jaw, resembling those of
a dog, were remaining ; that the stomach was about
the size of a ten-gallon cask ; and the bowels about the
bulk of those of a cow, &c. Compeared John Peace,

FISH AND FISHING.

277

George Sherar, and another.’ These men all 4 solemnly
declare,’ certainly not untruths, but what they actually
saw. They were under the idea that it was the great
sea-snake they were describing, so they evidently have
taken pains about it ; only, unfortunately for the ro¬
mance of their story, all their descriptions exactly lit,
not a sea-snake, but a huge basking shark. Sir
Everard (at that time Mr.) Home examined the
bones, and made out clearly that they belonged to a
Squalus Maximus, or basking shark. A figure of the
supposed sea-snake is given in the Wernerian Memoirs,
alongside a figure of a basking shark : the former is
simply a caricature of the latter, with a tint of the
marvellous added. The under-jaw of the creature
having fallen off through putrefaction, the head, ac¬
cording to the drawing, resembles more that of a snake
than it would have done before the jaw fell off : the
back fin is extended down the lower half of the back :
the fins are converted into legs, and an extra pair of
legs is added.

Most of the codfish sold in London are caught on
the Dogger-bank, with line and hook. The dogfish
are great plagues to the fishermen, for they take the
bait intended for the cod, being in themselves worth¬
less, except that an inferior sort of medicinal oil, passed
off as 4 pure cod-liver oil,’ is made from them. The
fishermen’s boys, however, take the spines out of their
backs, and string them together to make necklaces.

Like the roach, the barbels require an invitation in
the shape of ground bait to assemble together : for
the barbel, worms and clay mixed are thrown into
the place where the angler intends fishing ; for the
former, bran and bread, well mixed up with sand, to

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make it sink, are used. In the summer I had observed
by the river’s edge several large holes dug in the sides
of the bank. They looked like incipient foxes’ earths, or
gigantic rabbit holes; yet there were no foxes or rab¬
bits about. These, I have since found out, are made by
the good folks who come fishing. They bring the bran
and bread in a basket, and mix them up with earth at
the nearest point to the place where they are about to
commence operations. Once a good place for roach
always a good place, is the rule ; and successive gene¬
rations of anglers coming to the same fishing-holes,
have in places made excavations like small stone, or
rather earth-quarries. Often I have found out a good
roach-hole by observing the excavations for earth close
at hand.

These excavations form capital shelters should rain
come on. The ancient Britons were in the habit of
digging holes like these, not for fishing’s sake but for
shelter. Not many weeks ago some labourers, when
digging gravel at Brighthampton, near Oxford, came
across several such excavations : they were simply pits
dug in the earth, large enough to hold one or two
persons. From the sides of each of these pits a cer¬
tain quantity of earth had been removed, so as to form
a seat. They were, in fact, nothing more than what
were used by the riflemen before Sevastopol in our day.
The ancient Britons made them probably only for
shelter. At the bottom of these pits were found a few
rude arrow-heads made of flint, and a quantity of bones.
I examined these bones, and found them to be of frogs
and shrew-mice. I suppose that these creatures fell
into the open pits, long after they had ceased to be
used by their original makers, and anterior to the

FISH AND FISHING.

279

time that they were finally filled up. Frogs and mice
in their nocturnal peregrinations would very likely fall
into such holes, and remain there till they died of star¬
vation.

Since writing the above, I have heard a story from
my friend, Mr. Bush, which may account for find¬
ing the bones of the frogs and shrew-mice in the same
place and under the same circumstances. He was riding
home one evening when he heard, by the hedge-row,
cries as of an animal in distress : he got off his horse and
saw a frog close to a patch of grass, something having
got hold of its leg, so that the frog was a captive. He
struck with his ]iding-whip behind the frog, and then
found he had killed a shrew-mouse,* whose sharp
teeth were still firmly embedded in the muscular sub¬
stance of the frog’s leg. Now I do not know whether
the fact of shrews eating frogs has been observed, but I
think this would lead us to imagine that they did.
His teeth, though insectivorous, are quite capable of
eating flesh if he could get it. 1 hope shortly to set
this at rest by experiment. However, had a deep hole
been near the scene of the fight described above, both
frog and mouse would have fallen in, and their bones
been found together, as in the case of the Brighthampton
pits. It is extraordinary how often dead shrew-mice are
found about our hedge-rows, but rarely are common
mice found. This is, I believe, to be put down to the cat.
Cottagers’ cats are very fond of getting out at night
and hunting in the hedge-rows : they see the shrew-
mouse, also a nocturnal animal, and kill it, but they will

* A so-called shrew-mouse is not a true mouse, for he has
simply insectivorous teeth, somewhat like a hedgehog, and not
gnawing teeth, like the common mouse.

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FISH AND FISHING.

not eat it, as it has a peculiarly nasty effluvium about
it, which makes it an unpleasant subject for dissection.
The cats have found this out also. For the same reason,
many cats will not eat rats.

On one occasion, when intently watching- my float, I
heard an odd sound as of grinding teeth at my back,
but did not take much notice of it, being otherwise inte¬
rested. Soon I turned round for more ground bait :
it was nearly all gone ; and where ? Why down the
throat of a great cow, who, I suppose, must have had a
fancy for bran and brown bread. She did not evi-

dentlv much relish the admixture of sand with the two
%/

former ingredients, for she often shook her head, and
looked much puzzled, when she found the sand grating
harshly on her teeth — a lesson to her never again to eat
ground bait, look it ever so tempting.

Not long ago I was informed, at Andersson’s fishing-
tackle shop in Long Acre, that a party of fishermen had
just arrived from the midland counties to fish for barbel
in the Thames, and that these gentlemen had brought
with them ‘a large tea chest’ quite full of lob worms.
What a sight for a custom-house officer !

Some time ago, during the frosty weather, when
the roach were biting freely, I was compelled to buy
some £ gentles ’ (Anglice, maggots) : they were very
dear and scarce ; so I got only 120 for two shillings —
a very bad investment ; for, two days afterwards, I
found that every one of them had most provokingly
turned himself into a chrysalis. Having been placed
on a table near the fire, they probably imagined, from
the warmth, that summer was coming, and that it was
high time for them to see about becoming blue-bottle
flies. In the chrysalis state they were of course useless,
or comparatively so, for fishing.

FISH AND FISHING.

281

Some months afterwards, in turning out a cupboard, I
again came across this box, and opened it : it was sum¬
mer-time, and out flew immediately a crowd of great
blue-bottles — all that I got for my two shillings.

It is extraordinary how difficult it is to keep these
gentles from becoming hard and useless chrysalids,
even when they are placed in a cool place. They are
most liable to transform themselves when the weather
is changeable, and when they have not much to eat.
I never knew them turn as long as they had abund¬
ance of food. The fisherman Rogerson, at Thames
Ditton, tells me that he can earn a few shillings in the
winter time, roach-fishing from a punt, as then the
largest fish are on the feed. He always manages to have
plenty of gentles during the winter. To keep them alive,
he gets several small tin boxes, such as bait-boxes, and
puts the gentles in with bran, saw-dust, and greaves
from the tallow-chandlers, and then buries them about
six inches under ground. He takes up a box at a time
as he requires them, leaving the others undisturbed.
He says, when first dug up they are quite torpid, but
soon begin to move about when exposed to the air.
Rogerson also, having a great demand for worms, has
made a place where he breeds them, so as to have
them always fresh and ready to hand. He makes his
worm bed in the winter, with about equal parts of
pigs’ and horse dung and road dirt, well beaten down
together : it does not require stocking, the worms come
there of themselves. There are two kinds of gentles sold
in the shops — the liver gentle and the carrion gentle — and
they appear to be distinct creatures. The former are
bred from sheep’s livers and are plump and white, the
latter are much longer and coarser looking : they are

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sold at a cheaper rate, and thrown in for ground bait
to attract the fish. When the carrion gentle turns into
a chrysalis, it is nearly black ; the liver gentle chry¬
salis is of a clear mahogany colour, and roach will
bite at it : they will not do this with the other kind.
There is a third kind of gentle which I have heard of
but not recognised — it is the gut, or paunch gentle. It
is the opinion of a man who breeds great quantities of
these gentles for fishing, that the liver gentle is depo¬
sited by the great blue-bottle fly, that the carrion
gentle is from the common house fly, and that the third
kind is from the flies intermediate in size, between the
blue-bottle and the common fly, which have a shinygreen-
coloured body, and I am inclined to back his opinion.
There is a man at Bermondsey who gets his living
entirely by the sale of these gentles ; he also deals in
worms, and they tell me he gets on well with the
proceeds of his trade. Most of the London fishing-tackle
shops are supplied by him. Gentles seem to be most
attractive when fed upon fish previous to being used
as bait. They should always be kept in moist sand,
as that seems to harden their skins, so that they do not
fall so readily off the hook.

When the floods are out, it is no use angling for
roach, or any other fish in their usual haunts ; they go
away, as the flood rises, on to the meadows, to pick up
worms and insects, and are not to be found at home
in their holes. But lately I received a kind invita¬
tion to dine, and to fish after dinner. This I gladly
accepted, and, after a sumptuous repast, we adjourned
to the river, where we found a punt waiting, also a
man, with an immense casting-net ready on his shoulders.
In vain did we cast in the holes — nothing did we catch

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283

but a few gudgeons, who were there in w inter quarters,
little expecting to be disturbed in fifteen-feet water.
But on the flooded meadows, in two-feet water, the
catch of roach and bleak was very satisfactory. Cold
work it was — out in a punt, on flooded meadow's, till
nearly midnight — but very pleasant withal. Very many
bleak did we catch on this occasion. At Oxford they
call these fish ‘ Tailor-Blays but by the time they
have got so far down the river as Windsor, they have
lost one of their names, and are called simply ‘Tailors.’
There is, however, no resemblance in any respect to a
tailor that I can see or learn. ‘ Blay,’ the great Johnson
defines as a ‘ small white river fish, also called a bleak.’
Walton calls him the fresh- water sprat, and says he is
ever in motion, and is therefore called by some the
river swallow. He adds : ‘ His back is of a pleasant, sad,
sea-water green ; his belly white and shining like the
mountain snow.’ A very beautiful description this
is ! — but it is an unfortunate thing for this fish that he
is so beautiful. Ever-designing man hunts and entraps
him for his scales, wherein constitute his beauty ; and
what does he do with these scales? Why he robs the
fish to adorn his own species ; he makes with them
artificial pearls. A Windsor fisherman tells me he
recollects the time when men went out poaching bleak
all over the river at the dead of night : and many
a bloody battle has there been, and many a head has
been broken, over a bucketful of these fresh-w'ater
sprats.

Mr. Yarrell gives more particulars of this curious
trade. We read : ‘ On the inner cutaneous surface of
the bleak, roach, dace, white-bait, and similar fishes, is
found a silvery pigment, producing the lustre which

284

FISH AND FISHING.

their scales possess. The ornaments manufactured from
it bore the name of patent pearls, and their use was uni¬
versal in the bead trade, being employed in the manu¬
facture of necklaces, ear-drops, &c. So great, formerly,
was the demand at particular times, that the price of the
quart measure of fish-scales varied from one guinea to
five. The Thames fishermen caught the fish, took off
the side scales, and threw them immediately into the
river again ; and it was the custom of hawkers, regu¬
larly, before selling any of these fish, to set apart
the scales for the bead-makers. The method of obtain¬
ing and using the pigment was, first, thoroughly to clean
the scales by exposing them to a current of water, and
then to soak them for a time ; after which, the colouring
matter was deposited. When thus procured, small
glass tubes were dipped in the pigment and injected into
hollow glass beads of various forms and sizes. These
were then spread upon sieves, and dried in a current of
air. If greater weight and firmness were required, a
further injection of wax was practised. Of this pig¬
ment the white-bait afford the most delicate and beauti¬
ful variety, and used to obtain the highest price. The
bleak was next in esteem, and the roach and dace the
least valuable. The French were the inventors of the
art ; and Dr. Listre informs us that one artist in Paris,
during the course of the winter, used thirty hamperfuls
of these bleak scales in this manufacture.’

The drainage of Oxford for the most part is conducted
into the Thames by a stream that runs alongside a wall
on the west end of Christchurch meadow ; this stream is
called Pactolus. The original Pactolus was a river in
Lydia (also called Chrysorrhoas, or golden-streamed,
because it contained sands of gold). The story is, that a

FISH AND FISHING.

285

certain foolish king1, named Midas, entreated Bacchus
that everything he touched might be turned intogold. His
prayer, being granted, his meat also became gold, which
caused him to see his folly. Having given him a lesson,
Bacchus kindly restored him to his former position, and
ordered him to wash in the river Pactolus, the sands of
which immediately became gold.

‘Sis pecore et rnultd dives tellure licebit
Tibique Pactolus fluat.’* — Horace, Epod. Ode xv. 20.

The modern Pactolus does not contain gold, but some¬
thing convertible into gold, if used by the farmer as
manure, viz. kottooq, (manure), convertible into pvaog ,
(gold). Now where this stream joins the Thames there
are thousands of bleak always swimming with their heads
up stream and feeding upon what floats down. When
quite a little boy, I recollect the bleak at this spot; and
but the other day, when I went to Oxford, there was
Pactolus still rolling down his golden sands, and the
bleak exactly in their old place, just as they were
twenty years ago, and at exactly the same work ;
nobody seems to molest them, as it is pretty well known
what thejr feed upon.

I find a parallel instance to the above in a work,
‘ Ancient and Modern Fish Tattle,’ by the Rev. Dr.
Badliam : 4 Most rivers were thought to impart flavour
and to improve the condition of his solids ; but as
tawny Thames has the pre-eminence amongst rivers
for the quality of its porter so had the Tiber for
the quality of its basse. The Tiber had its noted
holes, and haunts, and there was one special spot

* ‘ Though wide thy land extends, and large thy fold.

Though rivers roll for thee their sands of gold.’ — Francis.

286

FISH AND FISHING.

often mentioned by Latin writers “ between the two
bridges,” whence ail the finest specimens used to be
fetched. Here they acquired that delicate bouquet so
appreciable by Roman connoisseurs, who, according to
Horace, knew at a bite whether what their fishermen
had supplied had really come from this dainty site
or from some more distant reach of the river towards
Ostia.’ The author saw an old ague-stricken man
fishing in this very place, just as the Romans did
centuries before him.

To take the opposite extreme to the bleak, fishes with
rough skins are also deprived of their jackets. The
dog-fish and the shark, worthless in other respects, are
skinned by the fishermen, and the skins sold to be used
in the process of polishing various articles, and also
to bind round the handles of swords. In the actual skin
are set numerous small tooth-like plates, each distinct
from its fellow, of a very hard and durable nature,
forming, in fact, a sort of natural file. The polisher
buys this natural file to finish off his fine work ; the
sword-maker puts it on the sword-handles to afford a
firmer grasp to the soldier ; and, lastly, the man who
makes lucifer-match boxes buys it to put round his
boxes, so as to afford a rough surface — always handy
to the housemaid when she wants to strike a lisrht ;
thereby saving the expense of sand-paper, and pre¬
serving the walls of the house from the lucifer-match
marks so characteristic of a careless householder.

The South Sea islanders have found out this fact also,
for in the Ashmolean museum at Oxford I observed
a bit of shark’s skin rolled up in a circular form and
evidently intended as a polisher. In Paris, I have seen
walking-sticks covered with fish’s skin, probably those of

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287

the dog-fish ; they look very neat, and the roughness
gives a good hold for the hand. The new trolling spoon
baits, which are spoken of so highly by anglers, are
nothing more than an improved copy of the savage’s
hook ; he ties on to his hook portions of the iridescent
shell of the Venus-ear, which, glittering in the water,
attracts the fish. In the British Museum are some good
specimens of Esquimaux fish-hooks made of walrus-ivory
and bone. In the Ashmolean museum at Oxford is a
capital net made of the twisted intestines of the walrus :
the knot is the same as that used by the English fisher¬
men of the present day. This gut net was brought from
the Arctic regions by Captain Parry.

The cook, too, takes advantage of the rough skins of
the sole ; she buys them from the fishmonger, and puts
a bit in the coffee when boiling up. She will tell you
the rough skins entangle the falling 1 grouts,’ and so
make the coffee clear ; but my own idea is that the
albumen boiled out of the skin, like isinglass, is coa¬
gulated by the heat, falls to the bottom, carrying with
it the impurities, and so accounts for the clearness of
the coffee. I once gained a prize, when a fag at Win¬
chester school, for making coffee, and therefore have a
right to an opinion on the art.

The material called shagreen is composed of the
skin of a species of ray. In former times, surgical
instruments, cerate, and other cases were almost in¬
variably covered with it. The skin, in its unmanufac¬
tured state, is studded with little bone-like plates : these
are all filed down level, and the interspaces filled with
some pigment material, which may be red, green, or any
other colour. The boxes covered with this are everlast¬
ing wear, as they are, so to say, encased in a bony armour.

288

FISH AND FISHING.

The fishes with hard skins, have, however, one advan¬
tage over the soft-skinned fishes, to a greater or less
degree. They are not so much troubled with parasitic
animals adhering on them. To sickly fish do these para¬
sites principally adhere, just as the bill-stickers in Lon¬
don select a tumble-down house, or else premises in
chancery, to stick their paper parasites, in the shape of
advertisements, upon.

Not long ago, when trolling for jack at a pond called
Ash Mills, near Slough, I observed that the dead roach
with which I was fishing, became, after two or three
casts in the water, covered with little worms, long and
narrow, and having, I should judge, excessively sharp
teeth. So tightly did they stick to the slippery scales of
the roach, that they would allow me to pull them asunder
rather than let go their hold, so I left them alone.
They soon, however, disappeared from of!' the fish as I
went on trolling ; finding out, probably, that they had
hit upon a dead fish, and that they could squeeze no
blood out of it, suck they never so hard.

A few days afterwards, when preparing a large jack’s
head for stuffing, I found several of these same little
worms sticking fast to the roof and sides of the jack’s
mouth ; but they were quite dead. I may here men¬
tion that I fully believe the story of the insects inside
the Egyptian crocodile’s mouth ; nor do I think it im¬
probable that the small bird, as related by Herodotus,
picks them off. An analogous case nearer home is the
starling on the sheep’s back, hunting for the little tor¬
mentors of the sheep, who quietly go on grazing during
the operation.

Upon the head of a decapitated cod, in Mr. Groves’s
shop, I not long ago found some very curious worms with

FISH AND FISHING.

280

star-like mouths — these were sticking to the gills.
They were presented to me, and I took them to the
College of Surgeons, where they were pronounced to be
interesting and not very common specimens.

At Teddington lock I caught one day this year
three barbel. I observed that the bellies of these fish
were covered with little, round, red spots, as though
they had been pricked with a needle. T could not under¬
stand what these spots were, till 1 caught the third
barbel ; on to its belly was still adhering a little leech-
like beast, that curled himself into a ball when touched,
like a wood-louse. With some difficulty I got him off
the barbel’s belly, and in the place where he had been
sucking was one of these little round, red spots. The
mystery was thus fully cleared up : this parasite had an
amazingly sharp pair of nippers, wherewith to pierce
and hold on to the barbel’s thick skin.

When fishing at the weir at Thorney broad fishery,
near West Drayton, in the month of May, a gentleman
who was angling above me cried out : ‘ Look out, there
is a great fish coming down the weir !’ and sure enough
there was a fish coming down in the rapid stream, tail
foremost as fast as it could. I just managed to catch him
with the landing-net, and found that he was a large
roach weighing one pound and three-quarters. The
poor fish had been wounded in the back, probably by a
punt-pole, and was in a bad way. It was quite covered
with the same kind of parasites that I found on the dead
trolling bait, so that these little creatures perform in
the water the same office that the flies, by means of
their maggots, do on land : they devour the offensive
animal matter which would otherwise pollute all
around.

u

290

FISH AND FISHING.

The gold-fish in the round pond at Hampton Court
are also much troubled with a parasitic fungus which
grows upon them, but I never had an opportunity of
examining one out of the water.

Mr. Hall tells me that his fish are much troubled
with this fungus ; ‘ occasionally they are attacked with a
disease of the eye, causing it to bulge out like a small
bladder, and sometimes the scales stand up. The most
fatal complaint they have is a sort of ulceration which
takes place on the body on which this vegetation occurs
and shortly covers the fish, after which very few recover.’

This is doubtless a vegetable fungus. Near Ham¬
mersmith, there are several flood-gates communicating
with the Thames, round which the roach and dace
collect : these fish are covered with this parasitic fungus.
It ultimately causes the death of many of them, as it
becomes adherent to the gill substance, and prevents
their breathing. Mr. Quekett tells me that he has
seen a stickleback come up to a newt in a vivarium,
and the newt has eaten off the fungus, the fish remain¬
ing quiet all the time. The newt, too, sometimes suffers
from the same disease. I have seen frequent cases of it.

Those who are fond of a day’s fishing, I would cer¬
tainly advise to go and try Windsor ; whether for
gudgeon in the summer or jack in the autumn. At
Surley Hall, two miles from Windsor, they will find
boats, every accommodation for eating and drinking,
and a remarkably civil landlord ; but the boat ought to
be engaged the day before. At Monkey Island, also,
further up the river, about five miles from Windsor,
good fish of all sorts are to be caught, and the water
there is more or less preserved by the landlord of the
inn on the island, for the benefit of his customers.

MY MONKEY JACKO.

291

MY MONKEY JACKO.

Those who have visited the French sea-port of Ha v re-
de-Grace must well recollect the innumerable curiosity
shops which therein abound ; curiosity shops, not like
those in the Wardour or the Dean Streets of London,
where are exposed for ignominious sale the cast-off
Penates of London folk, both rich and poor; but real
curiosity shops, on whose shelves are arranged in a
strange medley the products, animal, vegetable, and
mineral, of far-distant and little-known climes ; brought
home by the sailors who navigate the numerous and
busy trading ships which line the quays, and we may
almost say the streets of this French Liverpool. Let
us enter one of these and examine its contents. On the#
one shelf we see curiously-carved baskets, cut with
ingenuity from a cocoa-nut brought from the South
Sea Islands, and beside it armlets of the same all-useful
nut, from the Storrs and Mortimers of the islands
aforesaid.

On the neighbouring shelf are displayed the products
of the Arctic Regions, snow spectacles used by the
Esquimaux in his journeys over the frozen snows of his
ice-bound but well-beloved home, bartered most likely
to the mate of yon tall-masted whaling ship for a
drink of brandy from his flask, or a sixpenny Birming¬
ham knife. Teeth of that monster of the deep, the
cachelot whale, lie here, mixed with the wl/alebone
from the capacious mouth, or, as we may justly call it,

u 2

292

MY MONKEY JACKO.

infusorial trap of the true, or right, whale ; the oil from
whose sides fills those greasy -looking barrels jmt hoisted
out of the hold of the floating oil-shop close by.

On the longest 4 fin ’ of this whalebone, behold a rude
but correct portrait, carved with a sailor’s jack-knife,
of the oak and iron-bound vessel whose comfortable
berths formed the only home of the artist when daring
the perils of the Northern Ocean.

From the ceiling are suspended cages full of tropical
birds. Here, in a dark and gloomy-looking wired box —
we can hardly call it a cage — huddle together a crowd
of Java sparrows and wax-bills, thinking of their native
jungles, and making, in their own language (could we
only understand it), unpleasant comparisons between
the stale and mouldv food in their feeding-troughs
and the sweet and pleasant fruits so agreeable to their
epicurean palates, when free and at liberty in their far-
distant homes.

What is that harsh and unearthly noise as of a duel
between two rabid cats, which brings the proprietor
(probably not a fat one, for this sort of business is not
the most profitable in the world) breathless to the door?

4 Bella, horrida bella !’ the tailless, green-coated, African
monkey, who hangs suspended from an old parrot’s
cage outside the window, has seized the incautiously-
protruded tail of his prettier, and therefore more
favoured brother, the monkey from South America ;
he, unfortunate creature, has crossed the 4 herring pond ’
in a hen-coop, which is much too small to contain
himself tail and all. This appendage, which in his
present condition of life is neither useful nor ornamental,
is perpetually getting him into scrapes which the
honourable representative of Africa, being, per naturam ,
tailless, escapes.

MY MONKEY JACKO.

293

Conscious of his condition, the poor Yankee monkey
pulls in his tail, coils it up as well as he can, and gives
it a most malicious bite, as much as to say, ‘ I wish you
were off : you are of no use to me now, and you look
terribly shabby.’ He then covers it up with straw
and looks miserable.

‘ How much for that monkey,’ I say ; ‘ the one in the
hen-coop ?’ The monkey looked up as though he
understood what was said, and with a face which
evidently says, £ Please buy me.’ The merchant’s
price is too high : the African rascal he will sell for
half the sum, but this gentleman grins so maliciously
at the customer that the bargain is off.

The wanderings of the Yankee are not, however, yet
finished. He is bought by a knowing innkeeper at
Bayeux, near Havre, and for half the price previously
set upon his head ; and over he goes to Ins new home.
His master, finding out his fond and quiet nature, turns
him out with a light chain round his neck, into a
comfortable stable, where he can nestle under the
hay, and get his sea- worn coat into a respectable
condition.

The recollection of this poor monkey haunted me
for some time, and I often thought I should like to own
him. In the course of time, the celebrated tapestry of
Bayeux, worked by the hands of the wife of William
the Conqueror, attracted me to that ancient and vene¬
rable city. After seeing and wondering at the lions of
the place, I went into the stable to find out the coachee,
and to order the horses to be re-fastened to the rickety
vehicle which had brought the sight-seers there —
carriage it could not be justly called. What was my
delight to see my old friend of the hen-coop perched on

294

MY MONKEY JACKO.

the manger, looking as happy as a monkey could look.
He really was a pretty little fellow ; his bright eyes
sparkled like two diamonds from beneath his deep-set
eyebrows ; his teeth were of the most pearly whiteness,
and of these, whether through pride or a wish to intimi¬
date, he made a formidable display on the entrance
of visitors. His hands were certainly not similar
to those of Fair Rosamond’s, of Woodstock renown,
but more like the shrivelled and dried-up palms of
the old monks at St. Bernard, whose mortal remains
are made an exhibition of in that far-famed convent.
A more wicked pair of pickers and stealers we may,
however, with confidence, say, were never encircled
with the Queen’s bracelets by Sir Richard Mayne. His
tail, which had now recovered its good looks, gave
additional charms to his personal appearance, and,
moreover, was most useful, inasmuch as it performed
the office of a third hand to its owner. With this he
could cling: on to the bar of the rack above the manger,
and swing himself about, a perfect living pendulum.
Well, too, he knew the use of it, for if a nut or apple
thrown to him lodged just out of the reach of his hands
or feet (for he could use the latter quite as cleverly as
the former), he would run to the full length of his
chain, and turn his face round to the place where it
was attached, so as to get as much length as possible
stretch out this member, and pull towards him the
coveted delicacy. If pursued, moreover, and the chain,
dangling after him, got in his way, he would invariably
coil it round the links, and carry it high over his head,
by means of this most useful extremity, out of the
way of his spider-like legs. Should human beings,
blessed with tails, be ever discovered in some hitherto

MY MONKEY JACKO.

295

unexplored regions, as certain travellers insist, we
doubt much whether these appendages will be as useful
to their proprietors as Jacko’s was to him.

After some Considerable amount of bargaining (in
which amusing, sometimes animated, not to say ex¬
citing, exhibition of talent, Englishmen generally get
worsted by the Frenchmen, as was the case in the
present instance), Jacko became transferred, chain,
tail, and all, to his new English master. Having
arrived at the hotel, it became a question as to what
was- to become of Jacko while his master was absent
from home. A little closet, opening into the wall of
the bed-room, offered itself as a temporary prison.
Jacko was tied up securely — alas ! how vain are the
thoughts of man ! — to one of the row of pegs that were
fastened against the wall. As the door closed on him,
his wicked eyes seemed to say, ‘I’ll do some mischief
now ;* and sure enough he did, for when I came back
to release him, like AEneas,

‘ Obstupui, steteruntque comse et vox faucibus hsesit.’*

The walls, that but half-an-hour previously were
covered with a finely-ornamented paper, now stood out
in the bold nakedness of lath and plaster ; the relics on
the floor showed that the little wretch’s fingers had by
no means been idle. The pegs were all loosened, the
individual peg to which his chain had been fastened,
torn completely from its socket, that the destroyer’s
movements might not be impeded, and an unfortunate
garment that happened to be hung up in the closet was
torn to a thousand shreds. If ever Jack Sheppard had

* Aghast, astonished, and struck dumb with fear,

I stood ; like bristles rose my stiffened hair. — Dry den.

296

MY MONKEY JACKO.

a successor, it was this monkey. If he had tied the
torn bits of petticoat together, and tried to make his
escape from the window, I don’t think I should have
been much surprised.

Conversing with the proprietor of the ‘ Happy
Family,’ which stands on Waterloo Bridge, I was
informed that this exhibition had been in his family
upwards of thirty years, and that his mode of social¬
izing the animals was simply by placing young ones
in the cage in lieu of those who died. The magpie
was the patriarch of the cage ; he had had this bird-five
years hopping about and chattering. The next to the
magpie was the starling ; he had been in the cage two
years. He left all the creatures in the cage together
regularly every night, owls, rats, rabbits, jackdaws,
dogs, &c., but he was obliged always to take the
monkey out and put him in a different place ; he was so
very mischievous, and kept all the other animals awake,
teasing them when they were asleep. ‘Ah,’ said he,
‘ them monkeys is awful blackguards.’

It was, after Jacko’s misdeeds, quite evident that he
must no longer be allowed full liberty, and a lawyer’s
blue bag, such as may be frequently seen in the dreaded
neighbourhood of the Court of Chancery — filled, how¬
ever, more frequently with papers and parchment than
with monkeys — was provided for him ; and this re¬
ceptacle, with some hay placed at the bottom for a bed,
became his new abode. It was a moveable home, and
therein lay the advantage, for when the strings of it
were tied, there was no mode of escape. He could not
get his hands through the aperture at the end to
unfasten them, the bag was too strong for him to bite
his way through, and his ineffectual efforts to get out

MY MONKEY JACKO.

297

only had the effect of making the bag roll along the
floor, and occasionally make a jump up into the air,
forming altogether an exhibition which, if advertised in
the present day of wonders, as 4 Le bag vivant,’ would
attract crowds of delighted and admiring citizens.

In the bag aforesaid he travelled as far as South¬
ampton on his road to town. While taking the ticket
at the railway station, Jacko, who must needs see every¬
thing that was going on, suddenly poked his head out of
the bag, and gave a malicious grin at the ticket-giver.
This much frightened the poor man, but with great
presence of mind, quite astonishing under the circum¬
stances, he retaliated the insult, 4 Sir, that’s a dog ; you
must pay for it accordingly.’ In vain was the monkey
made to come out of the bag, and exhibit his whole
person ; in vain were arguments in full accordance with
the views of Cuvier and Owen, urged eagerly, ve¬
hemently, and without hesitation (for the train was on
the point of starting), to prove that the animal in
question was not a dog, but a monkey. A dog it was
in the peculiar views of the official, and three-and-
sixpence was paid. Thinking to carry the joke further
(there were just a few minutes to spare), I took out
from my pockets a live tortoise I happened to have with
me, and showing it, said, 4 What must I pay for this,
as you charge for all animals?’ The employe adjusted
his specs, withdrew from the desk to consult with his
superior; then returning, gave the verdict with a grave
but determined manner, 4 No charge for them, sir;
them be insects.’

Not long ago I met a man in Oxford Street who was
wheeling: along: a truck full of tortoises of different
sizes. He said he had bought them as a speculation,

298

MY MONKEY JACKO.

from the captain of a ship, then in the Victoria Locks,
who had got a cargo of them. In order to get customers
he assured the passers-by that they were capital things
to ‘ keep the kitchen clear of black beetles.’ This was
simply untrue, for this kind of tortoise is purely a
vegetable eater. However, he sold not a few to those
who believed him. He told me that the tortoises were
brought over on trays fixed inside the ship, and that the
captain had many thousands of them. I bought the
largest of the lot, and took him home on the top of an
omnibus. The driver had evidently not had a zoological
education, for he could not make out the nature of my
prize at all. After patiently hearing my lecture upon
tortoises in general, he relapsed into silence ; then,
suddenly stretching out his hand asked for the tortoise.
I gave it him, and he weighted it, or, as a countryman
would say, ‘ heifted it,’ as the housekeeper does her
goose when she is choosing one for her Michaelmas
dinner. At length he returned it to me, with the
remark, ‘ I wonder, sir, how it would eat biled with
sage and ineons !’

Though these tortoises are not often eaten in England,
I believe they are in France. I have a receipt for
cooking them given me by a Frenchman, a patient of
mine while I was house-surgeon at St. George’s
Hospital. A friend, who went to Bulgaria with the
English cavalry, during the last war, tells me that
the Zouaves are very fond of tortoises, but they are
difficult to kill, as they retract themselves into their
shells. The mode the Zouaves adopt to get them out
was simple, but cruel. They put a red-hot coal on the
poor brute’s back, and when he puts his head out from
pain, they cut it off with a knife.

MY MONKEY JACKO.

299

I well recollect many years ago, when the Duke of
Wellington was made Chancellor of Oxford, a live
turtle was sent down from London to be converted into
soup, for the banquet given to the Duke in Christ
Church Hall. In the middle of the quadrangle at Christ
Church is a circular pond. Somebody tied a rope to
the turtle’s fin, and let him have a swim in this pond
previous to his execution ; and mightily the poor thing
seemed to enjoy it. I recollect, too, that my father
made me stand on the back of the turtle while he held
me on (I was then a little fellow), and I had a ride for
a yard or two as it swam round and round the pond. I
have got the head of this turtle now in my collection.
A few weeks ago, when on my way to see the great iron
ship opposite Greenwich, a boy got into the steamer at
London Bridge carrying a turtle on his back. The
turtle was a very large specimen, and it was as much
as the boy could carry. I observed that the boy
had got the rounded back of the turtle and not
the flat side towards his back. This, I thought,
was a clumsy way of carrying it, as the turtle did
not seem to sit at all easily, but continually rolled
about, even though the boy had got a tight hold of its
flippers. I soon got into conversation with the boy,
particularly as I observed that his hand was tied up as
if injured. He told me his business was to fetch turtle
from London when wanted for one of the hotels at
Greenwich (I forget which), and that he generally
carried the creatures with the flat side towards him ; but
the last turtle he so carried 4 caught hold of his hand,
and nearly bit off four of his fingers,’ and it was a long
time before he could get it out of his mouth. I
examined the hand, and sure enough four of his fingers

300

MY MONKEY JACKO.

were frightfully lacerated. For the future, he intended
always to carry the turtle with its flat part outermost,
as it could not then turn its head round and bite him.

When Jacko arrived at his ultimate destination in
England, a comfortable home was provided for him in
the stall of a stable, where there was an aperture
communicating with the hay-loft, so that he could either
sleep at his ease in the regions above, or, descending
into the manger, amuse himself by tearing to pieces
everything he could get at. This stall was usually
unoccupied, except by his serene monkeyship ; but he
was not destined to remain lord of the manor in perpetuo.
One cold winter’s evening, when the snow lay thick on
the ground, the family donkey was brought up from the
field, where it was endeavouring to keep itself warm by
the side of a haystack, and placed in these more
comfortable quarters. A plentiful supper of hay was
placed before the hungry animal, which it began to
devour with great eagerness. About an hour after,
the groom happened to go into the stable to see that all
was right. What was his great astonishment to see
Jenny, without any apparent cause, pulling away at her
halter, and trying to keep her head as far away as
possible from the bundle of hay, which had suddenly
acquired some invisible noxious properties.

Not knowing what to make of it, the man gave the
poor donkey a blow, to make it ‘ come up,’ in the stable
parlance ; no sooner had the long ears approached the
hay than the mystery was explained. A tiny pair of
hands were suddenly thrust out from under the cover,
and the ears seized : at the same moment master Jacko’s
face appeared, chattering his teeth as though he had an
attack of ague, and as quick as thought theii sharp

MY MONKEY JACKO.

301

points met in the unfortunate Jenny’s aural appendages.
Jenny instantly retreated with force enough almost to
break the halter, and Jacko covered himself up again
in the hay, keeping, however, a small opening patent,
through which he could observe the movements of the
enemy. The little rascal, from the hole in the lofr, had
seen the hay spread out by the man, and thinking it
would make a capital warm bed for himself, had quietly
taken possession, quite regardless of the inward cravings
of poor Jenny, who would, if she dared, have most
greedily devoured the signor’s bedclothes. I remember
well in an old JEsop’s fable-book, illustrated with quaint
woodcuts, the fable of { The dog in the manger,’ and
also a pictorial representation (certainly not after Land¬
seer) of this same well-known event, but I never had
hoped to see the actual drama performed by two quad¬
rupeds. I must not, however, omit to say, that I, and
doubtless the reader also, have frequently seen a very
fair representation of this scene admirably performed by
two bipeds. If Jacko had lived in the time of iEsop,
doubtless the former would have been immortalized by
the latter, and ‘ The monkey in the manger ’ been as
familiar in our mouths as eThe dog in the manger.’ It
is, however, a curious fact, that this monkey, at the
same lime that he conceived too great an animosity
against the donkey, took a great liking to a dun pony of
a neighbour, who, on paying his visits, usually tied him
up on Jacko’s territory. On these occasions Jacko
seemed delighted to see his four-footed ally, running
frantically about as far as his chain would allow him,
and when the pony was fastened up, and the corn placed
before him, jumping on his back and nestling down there,
or searching eagerly in the mane for imaginary parasites,

302

MY MONKEY JACKO.

Speaking1 of donkeys, there is a poor old man living
in the neighbourhood of Albany-street, who is in the
habit of coming up with his donkey-cart full of flowers to
the Regent’ s-park barracks. Old Joe — for that is his
name — is very proud of his donkey, and boasts that he and
his donkey together are 103 years old. I suggested that
when the donkey died he should send him to the British
Museum. ‘ No, sir, he ain’t old enough for the British
Museum. I expect that there are older things in the
British Museum than my donkey,’ was his reply.
Thinking * Old Joe ’ would be a good authority on the
old story of nobody ever having seen a dead donkey, I
questioned him, and he confessed he never had seen a
donkey dead from natural causes. Wandering one day
about the race-course at Epsom, I came across two
post-boys of the genuine old sort, thin, weazen, old fel¬
lows, whose garments seemed held together by pipeclay
only. Thinking these might be about the last real
post-boys I might ever meet, I got into conversation
with them, and asked what had become of all the old
post-boys. ‘What, don’t you know that?’ said the
oldest, thinnest, and ugliest of the two ; ‘ why, they are
all changed into donkeys, and turned out on Biackheath.’

When sitting on the manger, Jacko had one peculiar
amusement, and that was catching mice. These unsus¬
pecting little animals would come out to pick up the
corn left by the horses in the next stall. To get at
their feeding-ground they had to run the gauntlet of
Jacko’s premises. He was up to this, and would pre¬
tend to be asleep, keeping, however, one eye half open.
The trick answered, the mouse made a rush — in vain;
Jacko, as quick as lightning, had his paw upon him,
and with a tight squeeze crippled the poor little brute ;

MY MONKEY JACKO.

303

lie would then play with him for some minutes, every
now and then giving him a pat to make him go faster.
When the poor victim thought he had got away, Jacko
caught him again, made a complete search through his
hair for parasites, and then — oh, carnivorous representa¬
tive of the class Quadrumana ! — ate him up (as a child
described it to me) like a sugarplum. The fun over,
he would again assume his manoeuvres and catch another
member of the murine family, to be treated in a similar
way as the last unfortunate. In this way I have known
him catch as many as seven or eight mice in one after¬
noon. The servants having observed Jacko’s talent in
this line, bethought themselves that they would turn it
to some account ; and as the cat of the house, the Felis
domesticus of the place, was ill, and unable to perform
her duties, they, not having undergone a severe training
in the logical school of Aristotle, or committed to me¬
mory the rules which are summed up in those most
delightful, and at the same time most poetical, lines of
dreaded Little-Go memory, viz.,

‘ Barbara celarent Darii ferioque prioris,’ & c. &c.

reasoned to themselves as follows : Cats catch mice in
the dark : Monkeys catch mice in the dark : therefore
Monkies are Cats.

Acting upon this syllogism, they one evening took poor
Jacko out of his comfortable bed in the loft, and chained
him up in the larder, having previously removed every eat¬
able or drinkable thing, except some jam-pots, which were
put seemingly out of reach, and, moreover, were well se¬
cured with bladder stretched over the tops. The night
passed long and miserably to poor Jacko, who was evi¬
dently much astonished at this unwonted treatment. All

304

MY MONKEY JACKO.

night long the mice scampered about the place, regardless
of their enemy, while he, most uncatlike, was coiled up in
a soup tureen fast asleep. The morning waned, the mice
retired to their holes ; Jacko awoke, scratched his
shivering hide, and having first pushed the tureen, his
bed, from the shelf, to its utter demolition, looked about
for something to eat. The jam-pots attracted his notice.
‘ There is something good here/ thought he, as he smelt
the coverings. £ I'll see.’ His sharp teeth soon made
an aperture ; he was not disappointed. The treasured
jams, raspberry, strawberry, plum, the vaunted Scotch
marmalade, the candied apricots, the pride and care of
the cook, disappeared in an unaccountably short time
down into the seemingly small gullet of the sweet-toothed
Jacko. Not if I had a hundred mouths and a hundred
tongues could I describe the imprecations hurled at the
devoted head of the now sick and overgorged gourmand
by the disappointed and illogical cook, the owner of the
jams, as she opened the door of the larder at breakfast
time to see how many mice the monkey had caught.
Great was the anger of the female gaoler; great the
malicious grins of the captive. Mischievous boys will
sometimes open jam-pots as well as monkeys, and in Lon¬
don they often run off from applestalls and sweetstuff
stalls with a purloined something. There is a poor old
woman who sits in the Strand selling boiled pigs’
feet. She is a decrepit person, and cannot run after the
boys if they come and pick while she, poor soul ! is snooz¬
ing. She has, therefore, gone on the principle that ‘ pre¬
vention is better than cure/ and has covered her basket all
over with a net, leaving only one aperture for her hand,
to fetch out the pigs’ feet for her customers. At Hyde
Park Corner there sits a man who sells sweetstuff.

MY MONKEY JACKO.

305

When he runs away to get a glass of beer, he leaves his
dog on guard, a white mongrel-looking beast, sagacious
withal, for he sits in his master’s chair with his head
over the goods. He looks all importance, as passers-by
glance at the stall ; but should any boys come near (he
knows the street boys well enough), he curls up his
lips, and shows his sharp teeth at the intruders, and
would doubtless bite them if they came too near. Tastes
differ as much in animals as in man, and, moreover, there
is no accounting for them in either case. Some few days
after this affaire de jam, Jacko, having been reinstated in
favour, was warming himself before the kitchen fire. A
cricket that had been singing merrily in the ashes came
a little too far out on to the hearthstone : his fate was
sealed — the next jump he made was down the throat of
Jacko, who munched him up as an epicure does the leg
of a woodcock. The next tit-bit was a blackbeetle,
who ran out to secure a crumb dropped from the ser¬
vants’ supper-table : he, too, became a victim to his
rashness ; and not he alone, but many of his black friends
and relatives, who incautiously exposed themselves before
the candles were put out. Having ascertained that these
beetles were nuts to Jacko, I one day gave him a great
treat by upsetting the kitchen beetle-trap in his presence.
Both paws instantly went to work — whole bunches
of the unfortunate insects he crammed into the pouches
(which he, like most other monkeys, has on each side of
his mouth, and which serve as pockets), munching away
as hard as he could, at the same time. His paws could
not catch the prey fast enough, so he set his feet to work,
and grasped with them as many as he could hold. This
was not enough. He swept a lot together with his tail,
and coiling it up closely, kept them there close pri-

306

MY MONKEY JACKO.

soners till his mouth was a little empty, and he had
time to catch and devour them. This was really too
greedy. I took him away from the feast, still, however,
munching with all his might, and looking back at the
box with wistful eyes. If we wanted at any future
period to make him in a good humour, his flagging
spirits were instantly roused by the sight of the beetle-
trap.

Almost all monkeys have pouches in their cheeks. I
recollect, one Saturday night, hearing a man who was
selling riddles at a penny per yard, in long slips of
paper, in the neighbourhood of Westminster, propose
the following enigma, as a specimen of the best of the
pennyworth — 1 Why does a dog carry a bone in his
mouth ?’ He volunteered the answer immediately after¬
wards : — ‘ Because he has no pocket to put it in.’ Now
the monkey, like the dog, carries his food in his mouth ;
but that mouth contains a pocket. The skin of the
cheek is very loose ; when empty it falls in wrinkles,
which gives the i old-man like’ appearance to his face.
In this natural pocket he places his food, and keeps it
there till he wishes to devour it. Now this is a beautiful
provision given to the monkey by its all-wise Creator.
Trees are the monkey’s proper habitat, but he often
descends to the ground to get roots, and to catch beetles
under the stones. While his attention is taken up by
looking for his food, he might be surprised by his
enemy, and be obliged to make a precipitous retreat,
so, as he catches his beetles, he puts them in his pouch ;
and thus he can carry off his earnings with him if sur¬
prised ; or, if not surprised, can take them up to his
home, the top of a tree, to devour them at his leisure.
I find a MS. note to the effect that the monkeys which

MY MONKEY JACKO.

307

live on the rock of Gibraltar have, in course of time,
somewhat altered the features of the ravines about, by
rolling stones down from the heights, in their search for
insects, which they find underneath. Thus a formation
is made, which would be difficult to account for by any
ordinary geological theory.

But not only does the monkey make use of the pouch
in his cheeks when hard pressed ; the creature next
above him in the scale of creation does the same thing,
as proved by the following observed circumstance : —

Passing one day along the Strand, on an omnibus,
two ragged urchins came running alongside. In an
instant one of them sat down on the pavement, and the
other turned a very clever summersault over him, their
hands just touching in mid-flight. I observed that one
cheek of the boy who jumped over the other projected
considerably; I suspected the cause, and threw down a
halfpenny ; in a moment, the boy put it in his mouth,
and, with a dexterous twitch of his tongue, lodged it
within his cheek. Anxious to carry out the experiment,
I continued throwing down coppers to him, stipulating
that he should perform a summersault for every copper,
which he readily did. Every penny and halfpenny
went into his mouth, till at last his cheeks looked
ready to burst. At length we came to a halt at Charing-
cross, and I gave him a threepenny piece to show me
what he had in his mouth. lie quickly turned out all his
earnings, consisting of fourpence halfpenny in coppers,
and one bit of silver. The poor little fellow seemed
mightily pleased with the contents of his mouth. I
asked him why he put his money in his mouth. 4 Cos,
sir, I ain’t got no pockets ; and if I ad. my money would
fall out when I turns over,’ was the reply. 6 It’s a

x 2

308

MY MONKEY JACKO.

wonder he don’t get canker in his mouth,’ was the remark
of the driver of the bus, a very fatherly-looking man,
A line specimen of muscular development, and perfect
figure, did this little, hard-working, active child of eleven
exhibit, uncramped by clothes, and always in high
training for running. Nature had in his person her full
development ; and a marvellous and beautiful form she
had produced in this specimen of a neglected English
boy.

As a contrast to this boy. T recollect, when walking,
one cold and wet day, in the neighbourhood of St.
Giles’s, passing a baker’s shop, and remarking how,
from the heat of the oven below, the stones in front of
the shop quickly dried, when all the paving-stones
around remained quite wet and muddy. As I stood
looking at the dry stones, a poor little, miserable, shiver¬
ing boy, very slightly clad, and looking very ill, came
wandering by : he, too, saw the dryness of the stones,
but he went a step further in his inquiry than I ; for he
felt them with his hand, and immediately lay down on
them at full length, close under the window, to get all the
warmth he could. At the same time he cried to another
little boy, who was on the other side of the road, e Come
along, Billy ; here’s a nice warm stone/ Billy came,
and warmed himself on the stone by the side of his
friend. A roll a piece each from the baker’s shop made
them both for the time happy. I have heard of sailors,
when on deck all night, pricking the boards to find a
soft place to sleep on. The theory is exemplified by the
boy’s choice of a stone to warm himself by.

Jacko’s insectivorous propensities were not confined
to blackbeetles alone. Spiders formed a pleasant variety ;
not a spider was left alive either in the stable or out-ide

MY MONKEY JACKO.

309

the stable where he was confined ; and most enormous
stones would he pick out of this wall with his little fingers,
in search of a runaway web-spinner. He was really of
great use in clearing the house of this housemaid’s pest.
I often used to put a bit of string to the end of his chain,
and make him run up the curtains of the rooms of the
house. He would then completely rummage out ana
devour every spider, who, having frequently had their
webs so frequently knocked down by the relentless
broom, had thought to spin them in security oil the
top of the cornices and among the curtain-rods.

On one of these occasions, he watched his opportunity,
and suddenly snatching the string out of my hand,
straightway bolted out of the window, the top part of
which happened to be open. Away he went, the chain
held up aloft in his tail, as was his wont when he found
it in his way, over the garden- wall, down the village
road, up into the village. The parish school turned
out from their lessons at this moment, and a regular
pursuit took place : the boys shouted and threw up their
parochial caps, the girls did not know whether to laugh
or be frightened. In an instant Jacko was on the top
of the nearest cottage, and returned the derisive shouts
of the boys by angry and incessant chattering ; he
grinned from ear to ear, and showed an array of sharp
teeth, as much as to say, ‘ Touch me if you dare.’ His
hair was all erect — as was always the case when he was
alarmed or excited — so that he looked double his natural
size, and he shook his tail in angry defiance. The
numerous stones and sticks thrown at him in fun by the
boys, for they knew him well and did not want to hurt
him, soon made him decamp, and off he went along the
roofs of the cottages, his chain making a fearful clatter

310

MY MONKEY JACKO.

on the tiles, to the alarm of the aged inmates sitting at
their ease within. The crowd collected, the excitement
became immense ; the police were not called out, be¬
cause there is only one constable ; he, being a baker,
turned out in his white cap, and sleeves tucked up,
armed with the official wand of office, determined to
take up somebody. Next came the churchwarden :
‘Lay hold of the rascal, boys,’ cries he, ‘and we will
put him in the pound.’ ‘ Likely I’ll stay there,’ clatters
Jacko, ‘ and, moreover, you must catch me first,’ and off
lie goes again, followed by the whole village. The fun
gets warm, Jacko begins to repent, jumps on to a tree,
and slips down one side while the boys are watching on
the other. He bounds across the road, over the garden
gate, through the broken stable-window, to his own bed
in the hayloft, where he lies, his eyes closed, his little
sides ready to burst from running, and his mouth half
open, Doubtless, at this moment he came to the deter¬
mination never to leave home again, for he certainly
never did, and likewise to have his revenge upon the
parish boys for persecuting him, for from this day he
always dew at, and tried to bite, any boy wearing the
parochial livery.

I had at one time a very large fine ape, which wras
caught, when quite young, on the rock at Gibraltar.
This monkey is still alive and well, and lives in the
garden of a friend of mine at Clapham. Poor Jenny
lias now lived out of doors day and night, summer and
winter, for the last seven or eight years, and has never
had a day’s illness. She has a dog-kennel into which she
< an retire at will ; but until lately she did not often make
use of it. She is getting old now, and feels the weather
more than she did formerly. Her coat in winter is wonder-

MY MONKEY JACKO.

311

fully thick, and she has an enormous quantity of hair round
tier face, like a beard and moustachios all in one. Once
I had a terrible fight with her : it was soon after she
came into my possession, and she was not aware that I
intended to be master. She began to chatter at me
and make faces, so I threatened her with a stick. In an
instant she came at me like a bull-dog, and gave me a
sharpish bite. I caught her round her neck immediately,
and gave her such a shaking as she never had before nor
since. I made her quite giddy, but I never struck her ;
I then put her down gently, and patted her : she never
flew at me again. One day, when I was mending her
chain, she watched the opportunity, and jerked it
out of my hand ; in a moment she was up at the
top of her pole, and, finding herself loose, made off as
fast as she could. She climbed up a water-pipe and
got on to the roof of the Deanery. After a hunt there,
she bolted down on to the top of the Chapter-house, and
thence along a wTall to the top of the houses on the
west side of Dean’s Yard. Here she sat on the coping,
chattering at me. I ran back for my coat and hat but
when I returned she was nowhere to be seen. I ran
round into the street, and found an immense crowd
collected, shouting and throwing at her. Fearing she
would be hurt, I determined to try to catch her again.
Some bricklayers’ tall ladders were placed not far off ;
so I went up the longest : it did not quite reach to the
height of the house, and shook fearfully with my weight
as I neared the top. I then wished for the agility
of Jenny ; but determining not to be beat, I managed
to climb on to the roof of the house, and by getting
round the chimney-pots, succeeded in getting close up
to her. Though her attention was quite taken up with

312

MY MONKEY JACKO.

the people below, she heard me coming-, and made ofl
again, I pursued her over the roofs of several other
houses, but could not get near her. At one time her
chain, which was still attached to her neck, hung down
over a window below. Without making any gesture, I
said to a woman who was looking out of a window,
‘ Please put your hand out and catch hold of that
chain.’ She attempted to do so, but Jenny, who was
too quick for her, hauled it up hand over hand, as a
sailor does a rope, and was off again. This is curious,
because I was careful to make no motion or sign of my
intentions, and merely spoke the words. The monkey
seemed to understand what I said, for she hauled up
her chain, even before the woman put her hand out of
the window (which was already open) to catch hold
of it.

After a long and tiresome chase, I drove her up to
the end of the houses close by Dean’s Yard. Here I
thought I had her, but she made a most frightful jump
on to some leads below. I expected she would have
fractured some of her limbs, but she merely shook
herself, and was off again. Plowever, by this time she
had had enough, for she ran along the pavement right
away home to her pole ; and there quietly awaited my
arrival to tie her up again. I don’t know which was
the blackest, Jenny or I, after our trip among the
chimney-pots. At Clapham she again got loose, and lived
several days up among some high trees. Nothing would
persuade her to come down, and no sooner did a man
climb up into one tree, than she jumped on to the next.
At last matters came to extremes : a gun loaded with a
few shots was fired at her. She received a shot in her
body, and thus learned that the gun could hurt her.

MY MONKEY JACKO.

313

After this, whenever it was pointed at her, she crouched
down on a branch, so that it was very difficult to hit
her. At length, after repeated firings, she became so
frightened and subdued that she seemed to have lost all
presence of mind, and allowed a man to get on the tree
and catch her.

Three years ago, when passing through Leadenhal!
market, I saw in a hen-coop a pretty little cub fox, and
began to ask questions about him. The man said if T
wanted a fox 4 he could show me some more accord¬
ingly I went with him to the back of the shop, and he
lifted up the lid of a large, shallow, square box. To my
astonishment, this box was as full of cub foxes as it
could hold. There were from fifteen to twenty little
beauties, all crowded together in one corner, and their
small bright eyes shone like diamonds. I picked out
the finest of the lot, and took him home. The little
brute got loose in the night, and it took me an hour the
next day to catch him again, as he got into the cellar
among empty boxes, potatoes, and wine bins. The
next day I sent him off to a friend at Clapham ; but in
a few days he slipt his collar again, and got loose,
wandering about the neighbourhood of Clapham many
weeks. Wires were set for him in the same manner that
poachers set them for hares, and the fox was taken several
times in these wires, but he generally managed to escape.
At last he got into a stack of wood, and there he was, with
difficulty, captured. On examination, a bit of wire was
found sticking out of the skin close to his hind leg, and
apparently firmly fixed in the flesh. After some pulling
at it, it became evident that there was a wire firmlv
fixed round his loins, for the poor brute’s body was
contracted into an hour-glass form. The poor animal

314

MY MONKEY JACKO.

had been caught in it some weeks previously, and had
by its struggles broken it off from the stick by means oi
which it was fastened to the ground. The wire had
been so tightly drawn that it had eaten its way right
into the flesh, and the skin and the hair had grown over
it, so that its presence was indicated only by a hard line
under the skin. The wire was taken out, and the fox is
alive and well, but still retains an hour-glass shape, the
result of his adventure.

Jacko once got loose again. Remembering his previous
adventure with the school-boys, he ventured not beyond
the premises, but quietly sneaked into the knife-house,
and tried his hand at cleaning the knives. In this
attempt he was evidently not successful, inasmuch as
the handles were the parts he attempted to polish on the
brick-board, and a cut was found in the middle of his
hand the next day. Resolved, however, not to be
defeated, he set to work to clean the shoes in imitation
of the man William, his kind and indulgent custos here.
Again, he had not distinctly recollected the various steps
necessary for the right performance of the operation,
for he covered an unfortunate shoe all over, sole and
all, with the blacking which he got out of the blacking-
bottle, and then he emptied what was left of the precious
Day and Martin into the hollow of the shoe, nearly
filling it : his coat was in a nice mess for some days
afterwards. One morning, again, when the servants
returned from the parlour into the kitchen, they found
Jacko had taken all the kitchen candlesticks out of the
cupboard and arranged them on the fender, before the
fire, as he had seen done before. Finding the black-lead
in the same place, he took it to a bowl of water which
was at hand, wetted it, and was diligently rubbing the

MY MONKEY JACKO.

315

table all over with it when he was caught in the act. On

the entrance of the servants, he immediately retreated to

his basket in the corner, and tried to look as though

nothing had happened. A great treat to this would-be

kitchenmaid was to have a lame bowl of warm water

©

given him. He would first of all cunningly test the
temperature with his hand, and then gradually step into
the bath, first one foot and then the other, finally,
completely sitting down in it. Comfortably placed, he
would then take the soap in his hands or feet, as the
case might be, and rub himself all over. Having made
a dreadful mess on the table, and finding the water
becoming cold, the next part of the play was to get out
and run as quickly as he could to the fire, where his
coat soon became dry. If anybody laughed at him
during this performance, he would chatter and grin at
them, and frequently even splash water out of the bath
towards and sometimes over them.

There was a story told of this pattern of cleanliness
in animals, for the truth of which I cannot vouch, but
it is, that Jacko one day nearly committed suicide in a
most extraordinary way, namely by boiling himself to
death. The large kitchen kettle was left on the fire to
boil for tea : after a time Jacko jumped up and took the
lid off. Finding it becoming warm, he got in and sat
down with his head only appearing above the water.
This was all very comfortable for some little time, but
the water, heated by the flames beneath, began to get
hot : Jacko raised his body a little, but finding it very
cold, immediately sat down again. This he continued
for some time, never having, or rather being able to
summon up the courage to face the cold air. The conse¬
quence was that the poor little wretch was nearly boiled

316

MY MONKEY JACKO.

to death, and, if it had not been for the timely inter¬
ference of a bystander, who took his parboiled carcase
out by main force — for he never would have got out of
his own accord — he would have become a martyr to his
own want of pluck and firmness in action.

Monkeys very frequently eat their own tails : it
would seem that captivity is not a favourable state for
the development of that organ. I once bought a
monkey for a few shillings, whose tail was in a very
bad condition. This animal had naturally a long tail,
but had lost a considerable portion, and what remained
was as hard, and as dry, as an old stick from a hedge-row.
Not liking the appearance of this, I gave the monkey an
apple to eat, and while his attention was thus taken up, I
proceeded to cut away his tail with a sharp knife, joint
by joint. During the operation, he looked on quietly
and composedly, as I removed bit by bit, about three
inches. He did not feel it in the least, and seemed
rather satisfied than otherwise. At last, as I ap¬
proached to that portion of the tail which was still
alive, I proceeded very cautiously ; but, unfortunately,
not enough so, for I touched a tender bit, which was
not dead. The monkey dropped his apple, and scamp¬
ered round and round the room, chattering furiously,
till the pain was over ; he then quietly sat down, and
inspected his tail, holding it between his hands. He
seemed none the worse for the operation, and was
certainly improved in personal appearance.

If phrenologists had made out that there was a part
of the brain especially devoted to mischief, I am cer¬
tain that it would have been found largely developed in
Jacko. He was for ever tearing things to bits. When¬
ever ladies came near him, his first object was to get

MY MONKEY JACKO.

317

hold of their dresses, and bite or pull a hole in them.
Being- a most ungallant monkey, he never could bear
the approach of any except one lady ; with the ex¬
ception of my good mother. Why or wherefore he took
particular fancy to her I don’t know, except that he
followed the example of all, whether biped or quad¬
ruped, who came near her. In this lady’s lap, he
would quietly repose, when she allowed him to take
this liberty ; but the little rascal very frequently took
unfair advantage of this privilege, by quietly munching
up a portion of her dress when not closely watched.

This destructive propensity was nearly bringing venge¬
ance down on his master’s head, and his own at the
same time. On going to Oxford of course I took
Jacko with me. His presence was soon ascertained by
the sharp-sighted regulator of fines for dons, and many
a fine I paid for Jacko, who has already been demon¬
strated to be a dog in the sight of railway as well as
college authorities. However, I kept him in my room,
teaching him to retire into his bag at the word of
command, when any suspicious footsteps approached.
The end of term arrived, and with it the day of exa¬
mination, (commonly called collections,) to be dreaded
by delinquents, as then all the evil deeds during the
term of the examinee were summoned up by the tutor,
and judgment pronounced by greater authorities. For
some days previous to this ordeal I had feared that I
should be called to task for harbouring such an un-
classical animal as a monkey, and therefore redoubled
my exertions; principally by taking.- great pains to
make a very careful written analysis, in a well-ruled
note-book, of one of the tutor’s lectures ; so that were
the monkey mentioned, the note-book might by chance

318

MY MONKEY JAClvO.

save me from presentation to the good-natured but
strict interpreter of the law.

The viva-voce examination on the appointed day
went off well ; 4 Where is your note-book, sir ?’ was the
question. Woe be to the man who has no note-book on
such an occasion ! Off I went to fetch it. On opening
the door of my rooms, oh, horror, the note-book was
torn into a thousand pieces !

4 Jacko, we are botli ruined !’ I exclaimed. Jacko
did not seem to mind it in the least, but continued his
work of destruction ; not a page was left in the book.
The diagrams were torn into shreds, and even the paper
from the covers had not resisted his relentless fingers.
The perpetrator of all this ruin simply grinned a grin
of delight, while watching me pick up the bits, which I
did with a trembling hand and misgiving heart. I had
not even courage to scold him or pitch him out of the
window, so terrific might be the consequences to Ids
master, resulting from this rascal’s misdeeds. Gathering
up the scattered relics of many an hour of weary writing,
I made as decent a bundle of them as possible, and pale,
partly with anger against Jacko, half with fear of impend¬
ing circumstances, re-entered the hall, and presented them
to the. expectant tutor, who wondered what had kept
me so long away. Still more did the good man wonder
when he saw such a note-book presented to him. In a
few words I explained what had happened, and awaited
my doom in silence. Most kindly^ however, he exa¬
mined the fragments, more particularly the diagrams
(which, by-the-by, I had not drawn myself, but had
intrusted to the clever hand of the good-natured lady
mentioned above as taking such notice of Jacko), and
sa;d, 4 You have evidently taken much pains with your

MY MONKEY JACIvO.

319

notes, sir ; you may go.* So great was my glee, that I
had mercy on Jacko, and did not shake him well, the
greatest punishment I could inflict on him, but merely
shut him up in his bag, and for three hours hung him
up for penance on a hat-peg.

‘ Pallida mors sequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,

Monkiumque tubbos.’*

And Jacko escaped not ; he lived some two years after
this, but alas ! he got an attack of bronchitis, was
wrapped in flannel, and placed before the fire. Invalids’
diet was administered, but in vain, — he died, and his
remains were sent up to London. Not wishing to lose
sight of him altogether, and knowing what hideous
objects stuffed monkeys generally are, I made his skin
into a mat for the table, and the rest of him into a
skeleton. The blackbeetles on this occasion had their
revenge, for placing them in a box where they could
get no other food, they very soon cleaned the bones
of their enemy and devourer. — And now,

In a cabinet, high on a shelf

He lies as a monument rais’d to himself,

* ‘ With equal pace, impartial Fate,

Knocks at the palace, as the cottage gate.’ — Francis,

«

APPENDIX.

Shower of Fish, p. 8.

A reviewer of the first edition of the book in “ Black¬
wood,” No. IX., March, 1858, says of my interpretation
of frog showers: — “The explanation given of this phe¬
nomenon is as old as Theophrastus, and was adopted by
Redi, the celebrated naturalist ; why should Mr. Buckland
smile at the credulous rustics swallowing showers of
frogs?” The reviewer, I believe, was right; and I was
wrong, to a great extent, in attributing the showers of
frogs entirely to the sudden hatching of these young crea¬
tures from the spawn. I have since published, March 9,
1859, in the Naturalist’s Column of Notes and Queries of
“ The Field ” newspaper, a case of a fish shower, which
I believe to be fully authenticated.

The account sent by the Hon. Grantley Berkeley, together with
those which have appeared in the “ Times,” relative to the above
phenomenon, are most interesting. Nothing definite is known about
these showers of fish; and Sir Charles Lyell, in whose works we find
records of the operations of most of the extraordinary phenomena of
nature, writes concerning them as follows: “The showers of small
fish stated in so many accounts to have fallen from the atmosphere
require further investigation.” In the case which has just happened,
we have luckily something definite, observed by several independent
witnesses.

I by no means feel myself competent to give a conclusive opinion
on this subject ; but as Mr. Berkeley has mentioned my name in con¬
nection with it, and as the columns of “ The Field ” are always open to
the comments of the lovers of natural history, I would beg to say a
word or two. I have certainly stated that the sudden appearance of
innumerable little frogs and toads in unusual places might often be
accounted for by a shower having brought them out of their holes
from their places of concealment from the heat of the sun ; but it

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APPENDIX.

is not at all impossible that in some instances they may have actu¬
ally fallen from the air, as did the fish Merthyr Tydvil, on Feb. 9,
1859.

The only instances that we know of solid substances falling upon
the face of this earth, and possibly from other planets, are Meteor-
olites. These are heavy, black-looking stones, and contain a substance
hitherto not found in any stone composing part of our own earth, viz.,
nickel. When these meteorolites come to the ground they are exceed¬
ingly hot, from their passage through the air. Not many years ago
one of them fell in the garden of a labouring man, near Bicester, in
Oxfordshire, and nearly frightened him out of his wits. There is a
model of it in the Oxford Museum. These meteorolites have been
fcund in such abundance in South America that they have been melted
up for the sake of the iron they contain.

The fish which fell near Merthyr Tydvil were for the most part
“ alive and kicking so that there can be no doubt but that they are
denizens of our earth, and not, like the meteorolites, the belongings of
some other planet. They certainly fell upon the earth from the sky,
but from off the earth they had most certainly been swept before their
fall ; nor do I follow the doctrine of their aerial generation as pro¬
pounded by a philosopher of 1658 in the following words: —

“ For it cometh to passe by the rage of the windes in the tops of the
mountains, or the uppermost part of the seas, which many times taketh
up the dust of the earth and congealeth them into stones, so also doth
it take up frogs and fishes, which, being kept aloft in the air among
the whirlwindes and storms of shewers, do there engender and bring
forth young ones, which afterwards fall down upon the earth, there
being no pool for them in the air.”

Mr. Berkeley’s words, that “ it is impossible for a whirlwind to
take up slight and delicately-formed fish from either salt or fresh
water, which happen, at the time of its passage to be on its surface,”
are, 1 believe, endorsed and received by most who inquire into such
matters. There was a paper, not. long ago, in “ Chambers’s Edinburgh
Journal,” on the rotatory motion of storms, wherein is described the
progress of these “ cyclones” from west to east, and whence it appears
also that these cyclones not unfrequently touch our shores. It is
within the limits of possibility that the whirlwind which passed over
Merthyr Tydvil was the remains of one of the terrible West Indian
tornadoes, which (having at its birthplace lifted off the roofs from
houses and uprooted trees) retained, after its long journey across the
Atlantic, enough of its stupendous force to lift up in a body any shallow
water submitted to its intluence, and not only the water, but even the
fish in the water ? A writer in the “ Cardiff and Merthyr Guardian ”
seems to think that the whirlwind that carried up the fish had its
origin at no great distance ; and he thus sensibly remarks : —

“ When two winds moving in opposite directions, and in a narrow
space, as in one of our valleys, happen to meet, a vortex is the result *

APPENDIX.

323

any cloud that happens to lie between them is condensed into a conical
form, and turned round with great velocity ; this whirling motion
drives from the centre of the cloud all the particles contained in it; a
vacuum is thereby produced, and water, or any other body, is carried
into it. Supposing such a vacuum to have been formed at the mouth
of one of the rivers, there need be no great difficulty in accounting for
the suction of small fry, &c. The day was a rainy one, and in
moving along the side of the mountain the cloud might have escaped
observation.”

Small whirlwinds not unfrequently take place in England : in fact,
when we see the dead leaves, dust, and bits of paper whirling about
in a corner of a London street, we have a miniature of the great West
Indian tornado ; and looking around nature, we find them assuming
more material forms. The travellers in the African desert tell us ot
whirlwinds composed of sand, and sailors well know and dread the
“ waterspout ” of the vast ocean.

About the month of August, 1857, Mr. Girdwood, of the Grenadier
Guards, when standing in the South Camp at Aldershot, was witness
to a pretty strong English whirlwind. It came up over the brow of
a hill behind him, and passed close to him ; it was about thirty feet
high, and about nine or ten feet broad ; it went with considerable
swiftness, lifting up everything not heavy enough to resist its force —
sticks, straws, and good sized bits of sand. Its shape was cuiwed, like
a comman sickle, and the lower part went faster than the upper part ;
and as the objects taken up got towards the top of the whirlwind, and
so out of the influence of its rotatory motion, they fell to the ground.
Mr. Girdwood watched the whirlwind go right away across the canal,
through the North Camp, and ultimately lost it at the edge of a plan¬
tation. Now, if there had been a shoal of sticklebacks or minnows
sunning themselves in the canal (for it was a bright, clear day when
this took place), there is no reason why they should not have gone up
in it, and have treated the inhabitants of the North Camp to “a
shower of fish.”

The circumstances attending the fall of fish in Wales are somewhat
different to what was observed of the Aldershot whirlwind. The Kev.
Aaron Roberts, of Carmarthen, has most kindly sent me the following
particulars, which are as follows. The fish fell in and about the
pi'emises of A. Nixon, and nowhere else, and that in a shower of
heavy rain about 9 A.M., which lasted from twenty minutes to half
an hour. They fell in such abundance that they were noticed coming
down the water-pipes from the tops of the houses thickly, and as
falling with and in the* rain upon the roofs. A man holding a bucket
at the end of the pipe stated that the bucket filled quickly with rain¬
water accompanied with the fish, at the proportion of two or three
hundreds to a bucketful of the water. They fell all at the same time,
and without any interval. It had rained heavily before, and con¬
tinued to do so afterwards in the course of the day and morning with-

Y 2

324

APPENDIX.

out interval, but no fish, either before or after the particular shower
referred to, came down in the rain. The fish had the appearance of
very small gurnets, but they say there were two species of them :
they die in salt-water instantaneously. The sea-coast is distant from
Mountain Ash about twenty miles. The wind was blowing very hard
at the time, and, as far as I can well judge, from the south. Whether
it was spiral in its motion or not 1 cannot at present state, but you
shall hear again on this point.”

Here, then, we have capital evidence of the fall of the fish in num¬
bers, and of the cause of their fall, viz., a violent wind, which lifted
up both fish and water. Their gill fibres would not have become
unfit for breathing purposes when suspended in the air amid the water
in the form of rain, and they did not, therefore, lose their lives in air,
having water to accompany them in their journey through the air.
Through the kind offices of Mr. Berkeley, I have since received speci¬
mens of these fish from Mr. Robert Crawshay, of Merthyr Tydvil ;
they arrived in the form of dried bits of skin, but a night’s soaking in
water developed them into the fry of the common minnow — little bits
of creatures, the largest about the size of a small Greenwich white-
bait, the smallest a little tiny fellow indeed, all of them very light
loads for a good strong wind. The sticklebacks described by Mr.
Francis were probably the second kind of fish mentioned by Mr. Ro¬
berts ; and I specially invite an unknown poet, whose ardent imagina¬
tion has prompted him to write “ Fishes from Cloud Land ” in a weekly
paper, that he may see what insignificant ambassadors his aerial
monsters have sent down to visit us: —

“ May it not rain great fishes,

So called — but wanting scales —

Too bulky for our dishes?

May not the sky rain whales,

Sharks, grampuses, and morses,

Seals, dolphins, and sea-hogs ?

Or porpoises, sea-horses —

Nay, why not cats and dogs?”

It would be important to find out the nearest ditch, pool, pond, or
river from whence the Myrthyr Tydvil fish could have set out on
their aerial journey, so that we might have some idea how long
they had been suspended, doubtless to their great astonishment and
terror.

Since the above was written, some of the fish which fell in the
shower on Feb. 9 were sent by the Rev. T. Griffith, of Aberdare, to
Mr. Nares, of the Athenaeum Club, and taken by him to Professor
Owen. These fish are now alive and well in a vivarium in the
Reo-ent’s Park Zoological Gardens.

A few weeks after the appearance of the above, Mr. John
Joseph Briggs, of Derbyshire, wrote the following : —

APPENDIX.

90 r.
yjZiO

That it was possible for fishes or frogs to descend in showers has
been accounted by numberless people as impossible as that it could rain
cats and dogs. It would really seem, from the well-attested accounts
of your correspondents, that the occui'rence of a shower of fish is
placed beyond question. I remember a few years ago a gentleman of
great intelligence, living at Melbourne, Derbyshire, communicating to
me what he believed to be a singular fact, viz., that he and numerous
other persons had witnessed a great number of frogs which had de¬
scended in a heavy shower. Not having at that time much faith in
the belief that such a phenomenon could occur, 1 pooh-poohed the
matter ; but still it was strongly asserted, by those who saw the
frogs, that the ground was completely covered with them, and that
they might be seen on the flat tops of walls, and even sprawling on
the top of the pruned fences of gardens — situations to which they
could not by any possibility have climbed. The spot where this fall of
frogs occurred was at no great distance from Melbourne Pool ; and it
seems just possible that, at the time when the frogs had changed from
the tadpole to the perfect state, at which period thousands are occa¬
sionally seen together, a whirlwind might have passed over the pool or
brook where they were, picked them up, and deposited them in the
manner described. To show the power of a whirlwind, I may men¬
tion that a few summers ago l saw one twirl round a cock of hay —
probably four feet high, and four feet in diameter at the base — take it
up in the air until it became a little speck, and carry it away out of
the reach of vision. The same power which was sufficient to accom¬
plish this could easily have removed a body of water with its fishes,
and deposited them at a considerable distance.

We all know how easily high winds will carry up
common wheat-straws in the farm-yard ; and in order to
test how much actual lueight had to do with the matter, I
weighed several small frogs, and at the same time several
wheat-straws. I found that a big “little frog” did not
weigh more than three grains (Apothecaries’) ; a smaller
frog not two and a half grains ; whereas long straws,
picked at random from a truss, averaged between fifteen
and twenty grains. Of course a straw is a much better
flying shape than a frog, nevertheless it is in most cases
actually heavier.

Newspaper Naturalists , p. 8.

This expression, I fear, has caused some discontent
among my brother naturalists, and I here subjoin my
explanation of the term. See “ Field,” July 3, 1858 : —

I consider it my duty to step forward and explain, to the satis¬
faction of Mr. Briggs and others, what I meant by these words. Be

326

APPENDIX.

it known that I have two or three volumes of scraps cut out by
various individuals from newspapers, both of ancient and modern
date ; and having derived from them much information, I would beg
to indorse Mr. Briggs’s observations on the immense importance and
value of the smaller veins which convey the element of knowledge —
“ the newspapers.” Still, however, 1 could not but be struck with
some of the exceeding absurd stories I find in the pages devoted to
natural history ; and if truth be the foundation of many of the para¬
graphs, the verbal description has been generally so very flourishing,
and couched in such high-flown terms, that we could not help occa¬
sionally smiling.

My collection is gathered from all kinds of papers, and the matter
of many of the paragraphs is, for the most part, evidently written by
persons who, hungry for news of any sort or kind, pick up and appro¬
priate anything that will cause wonder and astonishment in the minds
of their readers.

These “ profound philosophers,” (for I own to these words also)
careless of results, pick up their fact, which may of itself contain
more or less of the strange and marvellous, and then deck and garnish
it, not only with high-sounding words and phrases applicable to other
subjects, but also not unfrequently add the lustre of their own imagi¬
nations to burnish the general effect of the whole story.

That I may rightly be understood, I have looked over my collection,
and now give specimens of the writings of “ newspaper naturalists ”
picked out hap-hazard. The headings of the paragraphs are generally
the best part of the composition.

Thus “ Extraordinary Affair between a Hen and Partridge;” a
“ Piscatory Cat “A Tender-hearted Cat;” “An Agile Bullock;”
“ A Whale with the Toothach ;” wherein we learn that “ Whales are
subject to the jumping toothache, which renders them crabbed and
captious;” “ Trait of Mentality in a Minnow.” This wonderful fish,
when its water is changed, after swimming once or twice round the
top, “enters its habitation as systematically as a sheep to its fold, or
a horse to its stable.” Under the head of “A Valuable Interior,” we
learn that a certain lucky individual killed a “ bird like a turkey,”
and that he found in its gizzard nine hundred diamonds worth 1,500
dollars. A “ Singular Fatal Combat ” details a battle royal between
two pigs, and concludes by telling us “ that they fought bravely for
upwards of an hour, when the clergyman’s pig fell prostrate on the
ground, quite dead.” We are also instructed in a new way of killing
eels, and told that if the operation be rightly performed, “ the fish
will, immediately after a few convulsive throes, sink into insensibility,
and the process of skinning may be performed with convenience and
humanity.”

The “ War Horse ” is a wonderful creature, who once a charger,
now an ignominious ’bus horse, “ starts off at the sound of a gun, and
there is the greatest difficulty in reining it in.” A paragraph on the

APPENDIX.

327

“ Hunting Cat,” records that “ A rabbit rose twelve yards before the
cat, which instantly gave it chase, and in ten minutes was seen making
her way home, holding her prey securely by the collar.” An un¬
fortunate snake appears in St. Pancras, and one of the parochial
officers,” acting upon his first, impulse, dictated by personal fear,
hastened to arm himself with a weapon; but upon returning, arrived
only in time to see it dart into a hole under the wall.” “ Canine
Revenge,” tells us that the writer “ happening to be in the country,
had his attention drawn to the approach of two sanguinary dogs, who
were worrying each other most furiously. The furious brute ” is,
“ with the aid of some good Samaritans,” chased away ; it comes back
at night and kills its enemy ; and then we read that “ the strangest
part of the affair was the cunning anxiety displayed by the murderer
to obliterate all traces of the deed, which, according to its own sagacity,
it accomplished by carrying the dead carcase to a neighbouring pool
and plunging it therein.”

“ The Rattlesnake ” boy lived in North Carolina, and “ was in
many particulars very like a snake.” After a description of his
person we understand that “ when winter has gone, and summer
comes with a smiling sun, caution is required to prevent his running
into the woods, there to enjoy himself by lying on old logs.” The
cause of this boy’s peculiar appearance and tendencies, is that his
mother heard “ the chilling rattle ” of a rattlesnake, and transferred
the mark of the “ squamous monster ” to her infant.

I confess, that after the perusal of the above, and many other such
descriptions, 1 was tempted to coin the expression “ newspaper
naturalists.” I acknowledge at the same time most fully that I have
learnt much from these little slips of paper, inasmuch as they pre¬
serve from oblivion many facts and observations that would otherwise
be overwhelmed by the ever-flowing stream of human events which
occur daily between the rising and the setting of the sun, and of
which the one-millionth part is never recorded.

F. T. Buckland.

Sudden appearance of Toads , p. 8.

At the paper-mills at Clapton, about six miles from Windsor, is a
pond where thousands of our little toads are annually hatched. When
old enough to crawl, they come out of the water, and assemble at the
garden and stable gates till they are opened for them to go out. The
proprietor of the house is well aware of their habits, and at their
migrating time kindly allows the gates to be left open, that they may
follow the promptings of their instinct, and become dispersed all over
the country.

If any person wished to make out a story of a “ shower of toads,”
this would be a fine chance. 1 saw the toads waiting at the gates in
countless numbers ; and the moment they were opened for my dog¬
cart to go through, they hopped away out as fast as they could.

328

APPENDIX.

Voice of Toads, p. 16.

The following letter I wrote to “ The Field ” on behalf
of my friend —

The Toad under Herne's Oak.

Dear Mr. Aquaticus,

When I was a tadpole I had neither lungs nor voice, but I
breathed by what are called bronchise, which were external to my
body. When I arrived at toadhood, after mature consideration 1
absorbed my tail, as I thought it would be in my way in after-life,
and 1 converted my bronchia; into true lungs, which I packed inside my
body for safety’s sake. My windpipe is very short, but I have a well-
developed Adam’s apple, or larynx, at the back of my mouth, from
which, assisted by the palate, I can produce a very short note, which
you would call plaintive and flute-like. Some of my relations have
folds of skin at the corners of their mouths, which they can puff out,
and which act like drums when they sing. These are well developed
in one branch of my family, which lives among the vines abroad, viz.,
the green tree-frog. He comes from an ancient family, for his powers
are thus recorded by a Greek poet: —

“ When from the tree tops, 0 frog,

You sing like a king.”

But who this musical king was I cannot say. Virgil, not only a
poet, but a farmer also, classes me, I am sorry to say, among the
“pests of the farm;” the others in the condemned list being the
mouse, the mole, the ant, and the weevil. But instead of being a
pest, I am a benefactor, and eat up hundreds of beetles, the parents of
the wireworm. As you say, i am too diffident, I will now be bold,
and assert that if you were heathens you ought to consider me
“ sacred.” The ancient Egyptians (who must have been a very
cleanly people, as we may conclude from the nature of the plagues
wherewith they were afflicted) made “ sacred ” a much more insignifi¬
cant but quite as useful a creature as myself, viz., the scarabseus, or
dung beetle ; and they worshipped it second only to the snake-devour¬
ing ibis ; their reason for doing so being probably that it acted as a
scavenger, and buried and hid the offal, &c., which in that hot climate
would soon become a serious nuisance. In this country, on the con¬
trary, I was, in 1665, considered by some to have a hand in the Great
Plague of London ; for in Bacon’s “ Natural History ” it is recorded of
my ancestors that, “in the great plague there were seen in divers
ditches about London many toads that had tails three inches long,
whereas toads usually have no tails.” Now these were no toads at
all, but water newts, and as there were ditches so near a populous
city, where these newts could find a home, it follows that the drainage
was not over and above good, and that the subjects of King Charles II.,
like many subjects of Queen Victoria (prone to blame anybody or any-

APPENDIX.

329

thing rather than themselves), owed their misfortune rather to their
own want of attention to sanatory matters than to the “ long-tailed
toads.”

I am right glad that we are likely to be protected and encouraged
by the readers of “ The Field,” and we promise that if we have a fair
trial we will not belie the statements made as to our powers of doing
them good instead of harm.

The Poor Toad.

“ The Hole,” Heme’s Oak, Windsor Park .

Frog Market at Paris, p. 18.

During a late visit to Paris, I found that the head
quarters of the frog-dealers were in the Marche an
Poissons, near the church of St. Sulpice. In this market
they keep a great quantity of fresh-water fish alive in
tanks, through which a stream of water is always running.
Under the tanks are boxes, containing the frogs. I bought
several of Madlle. Marie, an uncommonly pretty girl. She
dived her arm into the box, and catching them one by
one, gave them a slight tap on the head, and then, having
stunned them, arranged their legs knight-templar fashion,
so that they could not untie them. “ Voyons, c’est comme
9a, comme 9a ; ils sont bien arranged,” using her delicate
fingers as though she was dressing the ribbon of a wedding
bonnet : “ vingt sous la douzaine, s’il vous plait. Monsieur,
voulez-vous des ‘ escargots ’ edibles ?” i. e., land snails
which make very nasty, shmy soup, and taste like tough
periwinkles.

Hunt in Horse Pond. Hybernation of Newts, p. 23.

If the newt-pond be visited in the winter, not a newt
will be seen, though there may have been thousands of
them there in the summer. The question as to their
hybernation has been raised, and by the kindness of a
great naturalist I am enabled to give the following par¬
ticulars relative to this point in their economy : —

Newts hybernate; but I suspect our popular Natural History
books are wrong as to the mode. ( See Carpenter’s “ Zoology.”) They
seem not, in so far as my knowledge goes, to spend the winter in
social sleep, but lie alone in single unconsciousness, if not blindness.
Five years ago, I traced the footprints of several on half-dried mud,
at the edge of a pond. The prints indicated that they had left the
pond, and had not returned, at least by the same way. Forgetful
of newts, I was busy tearing some indurated shale from its overlying

330

APPENDIX.

freestone, in search of good specimens of Sphempteris affinis and
Sph. latifolia, ponds of which 1 had met with, when out came newt
No. 1, from a crevice between the shale and the sandsto'ne. Had I
been a believer in frogs imprisoned since the Deluge in the heart of
rocks, here I had a true antediluvian eft ushered into the wondrous
world of 1853. A further search brought out newt No. 2, who had
stowed himself away for the winter in total isolation from No. 1.
No. 1 looked stiff and stupid ; No. 2 had all his instincts about him,
and made an effort to escape in the direction of the pond. No. 1 was
brought home and kept in a vessel for five or six weeks without im¬
provement in liveliness. Thinking it had come by some accident and
needed the doctor, I resolved to try the cold-water cure. In vain :
hydropathy did it no good —therefore, I concluded, that it must be
indisposed — for this inode of treatment never fails to cure those who
have nothing the matter with them ! The vessel was needed for
another purpose, and No. 1 thrown into a rivulet not far off. I had
not at the time associated hybernation with this creature, but now
regret that I did not preserve it till spring.

Aquatic Larvae , jp. 33.

The following note has kindly been sent to me by my
father’s old friend, Mr. Stowe, of Buckingham : —

Last summer I dropped on a curious aquatic larva — that of the
Elophilus pendulus — a dipterous fly. He is about half an inch long,
and called the mf-tailed larva : his tail is cocked up, and within it is
a sliding air-tube more than an inch long, very flexible and fine,
which he can push up to the top of the water for respiration, and it is
terminated by a fine hair fringe, by which he oan suspend himself
from the surface if too deep for him when crawling.

There seems a coil of air-tubes within the abdomen which may
enable him to protrude the tube. A young lady who sent me them
with a metrical inquiry for Class and Order, got the following answer :

The Elophilus Pendulus.

See here the larva of a two-winged fly.

Which sports on hedges in the month July ;

His rat- tail darting up for air,

Making the microscopist stare.

A sliding tube of wondrous length
Protruded by his tiny strength,

Befits him for his watery station ;

Another marvel of the Great Creation.

Page 35.

I have received the following story from a gentleman, as

APPENDIX. 331

a good “ pendant ” to the story of the Lancashire man and
the newt : —

In page 35 of your book, entitled “ Curiosities of Natural History,”
there is an anecdote which so much resembles a circumstance that is
said to have occurred in the Peninsular war, that I cannot resist the
inclination to make you acquainted with it, although you may be
disposed to class it with the Lancashire story. A friend of mine, the
late Colonel Leach, commanded a company in the 95th Regiment,
during the most arduous part of the campaign, under the Great Duke,
in Spain and France, and as a portion of the light brigade, Captain
L. was constantly in advance of the army with his regiment.

One of the privates, a most energetic and gallant fellow, ever
forward in the performance of his duty, became ill, attenuated, and
debilitated, so as to be entirely unfit to continue his active co-opera¬
tions with his gallant comrades. The medical men, after attempting
various remedies, were utterly unable to relieve the poor fellow, and
he was generally with the sick, unfit for duty.

In this hopeless state of things the surgeon of the regiment one day
came to the quarters of Captain Leach and his subaltern, the present
Sir Henry Smith, and requested them to accompany him ; they found
the suffering soldier and a torpid lizard, which, it was stated he had
voided from his mouth, to the astonishment of himself and those
around him.

From that time the man recovered and became as active and
intrepid as ever.

It was, I believe, stated that, against orders, spirits in some shape
had been introduced, and that the suffering private had been per¬
suaded to swallow a dram, when the lizard, or something very like it,
very soon made its appearance.

The words “ something very like it ” should be remarked.
I have notes of many curious things, which were said to
be animals, &c., coming from the human body ; but they
are rather too professional to be introduced here.

Gigantic Salamander of Japan, p. 41.

Since the passage relative to this creature was written, a
fine specimen has arrived in this country, and is now in a
splendid glass tank in the Boa-constrictor House at the
Regent’s Park Gardens. I thus described it on its arrival
in “ The Field ” for March 17, 1860 : —

On Monday last there arrived in excellent health and vigour a living
specimen of the “ Gigantic Salamander from Japan.” This creature,
in external appearance, is not unlike the ordinary English water-newt,
which we see in stagnant ponds and ditches, but instead of being three
or four inches long, this Japanese creature is a little over thirty inches

332

APPENDIX.

in length, and is expected to attain a much larger size. When swim¬
ming about at the bottom of the water, it looks like a large brown-
coloured eel; it does not like the light, and generally remains in
the darkest corner of the tank. Upon close inspection, I found its
colour to be a sort of dark chocolate, interspersed with black spots,
giving a sort of piebald appearance. Its head is certainly most
hideous. 1 can liken it only to the head of an ugly toad, considerably
flattened out. It is about four inches across at the broadest part.
The head and upper part of the body is studded with projecting wart-
like tubercles. The mouth is difficult to get a peep at ; it is shaped
somewhat like a coalheaver’s shovel. Two exceedingly minute eyes
are placed on the fore part of the head, and are exceedingly like two
white or gray-coloured glass pin heads. There are four toes on the
front feet and six on the hind, these latter being slightly webbed.
There are no nails to the toes, and they are very similar to the toes of
a toad or water-newt.

It was bought by Captain Taylor, in the town of Nagasaki, in
Japan, being exposed there for sale in the public market. These crea¬
tures are very rare, even in Japan, but a French captain having given
a considerable sum for a specimen a short time ago, in the market at
Nagasaki, the Japanese procured this specimen which Captain Taylor
has now brought over. He has had it on board his ship nearly two
years, having made a sort of pet of it. He fed it with fish, taking
with him a stock of live eels when he left Japan. When there were
no eels, the salamander would eat flesh, the entrails of fowls, &c. It is
now fed with eels and small fish. The native habitat of this remark¬
able salamander is in the lakes and stagnant pools among the basaltic
mountains of Japan. The specimen brought to Leyden by Dr. Seibold
is still alive, and is now nearly a yard long.

Dirge of an Immured Toad , p. 54.

The following verses were written by my father’s friend,
Mr. Duncan, during the progress of his experiments,
p. 46:—

Croak, croak your fun’ral odes
Ye night-fans, frogs, and toads,

Who flit, or hop, or crawl
By moat or ivy’d wall !

On dark St. Michael’s night,

Six toads immured from light,

Excluded fast from air,

Must breath of heaven forswear ;

Deep fixed in stony tomb,

Till Buckland break their doom.

Down oolite clay sealed
Anointed, and annealed

APPENDIX.

333

Within the womb of earth
Wait for second birth.

They sink in darkness deep,

To waken Truth from Sleep.

On six St. Michael’s days,

From darkness Truth shall blaze ;

Till eighteen hundred thirty-one
Announce their trial duly done :

And Death, six times defeated, own
That toads can live immured in stone.

For oft the truth full well
Is proved by monk in cloistered cell ;

In darksome college corner, Duncan
Can prove this truth if ever monk can.

Hats found in a Dried State , p. 67.

It is astonishing what a number of rats I have had
brought to me in a dried state. They have probably been
wounded, or have become diseased, and have gone away
to die in secrecy. I have also seen several cats in the
same condition. One had a rat in its mouth, where it still
remains firmly fixed. When they were repairing the
organ in Westminster Abbey, they found a dry cat in one
of the recumbent big wooden pipes, which had been out of
tune for some time, and no wonder, as it contained a dead
cat. But lately, in one of the rooms at the Foreign
Office, there was for several weeks a most offensive smell,
and nobody could guess whence it came, as the drains,
&c. were in good order. At length some heavy folios
were taken down, for the purpose of reference, and behind
them was found the body of a dried cat. Puss had got
into the vacant place some weeks before, and when the
books were put back (probably in a hurry) she became
shut in between them and the shelves, and so met with
the fate of the beautiful lady who so unwisely shut herself
up in a corn-chest (for such the prints represent it) on her
wedding-day, and so perished miserably.

Hats as Scavengersf p. 81.

Every one knows how dirt heaps are allowed to accu¬
mulate in the streets of Paris ; hence the occupation of
the poor fellows who go picking about these heaps with a
crooked nail on to the end of a stick. These “ cheffoniers ”
have rivals in the rats. When walking in Paris, after

334

APPENDIX.

twelve at night, I saw hundreds of rats running about in
all directions. They doubtless do much good in eating up
the bits of garbage, which would otherwise become offen¬
sive. The image-sellers in the streets have on their trays
a capital figure of “ Le Pere des Rats,” an old man clad in
rats’ skins, and rats running all over him. Who this
worthy was, whether ideal or real, I could not ascertain.

Bones of Invading Danes, p. 84.

In “Leisure Hour,” No. 410, Nov. 3, 1859, I have given
an account and an engraving of a remarkable collection of
the bones of Danes and Anglo-Saxons, which I visited in
the crypt of Hythe Church, near Folkestone. There had
been a battle fought' near the place in ancient times, and
these are said to be the bones of the combatants. Upon
one of the skulls I found skin and red hair still remaining.
The place is well worth a visit.

Burrowing Bats, p. 87.

I have received the following confirmatory story of
Mr. Bishop's account of burrowing rats : —

Combe Royal , Kingsbridge,

Dear Sir, June 25, 1860.

Permit an old Wykehamist of ’30-’34 to endorse Mr. Bishop’s
rat story at p. 87 of your “Curiosities.” Towards the end of last
autumn, and yet rather too early for harvesting them, I discovered
a bed of beetroot evidently dying away, root after root. I observed,
as I supposed, the track of a mole through it, and on talcing up a root,
found all the lower part eaten away: a second, which I took up, was
found exactly in the same state. I had a mole- trap set in the usual
manner, and was much pleased to find it “sprung” the following
morning ; but, to my surprise, the captive was not a mole, but a very
fine rat.

I remain, dear sir,

Yours faithfully,

E. Turberville Williams,
Incumbent of Caldicot, near Chepstow.

Deformed Teeth of Bats, p. 89.

The deformities mentioned in this passage are not very
uncommon. I have lately had a fine specimen brought to
me, which I figured and thus described in “ Leisure Hour,”
No. 408, October, 1859.

“ This rat was killed at Clewer Mill, near Windsor, a few weeks ago,

APPENDIX.

335

and brought to me as a great curiosity. I found that the jaw, through
some injury, had become dislocated, and the teeth, obedient to the law
of nature, as above described, had grown in the fantastic form they
now present. Of course, with his disabled set of teeth, this rat was
unable to gain his living by gnawing ; so, like a wise animal, he had
gone to a place where he could find his food ready prepared for him ;
and where could there be a better place than a comm ill ? J found,
upon examination, that he had been living on flour , which required no
biting , and could be easily picked up, even with his disabled set of
teeth. His cleverness in going to the right quarters had procured him
an easy living, for he was quite fat and in excellent condition, and in a
state of plumpness which he would not have exhibited had he taken
up his home anywhere but in a cornmill, where flour was abundant.

“ The man who brought me this curious rat is ‘ rat-catcher to her
Majesty,’ at Windsor : the moment a rat is heard of about the Castle,
or the outlying premises, he is sent for to exercise his official capacity ;
and I must give him credit for great cleverness in his profession,
which he has practised many years. And let me here state, that it
requires great experience to catch a rat who is out foraging for himself
away from his companions, and especially so in royal premises, where
he is so closely watched, as his presence might annoy the regal in¬
habitants of the ancient Castle. This man, one Bradshaw, tells a story
with great glee, of royalty once noticing him at work and approving
of his plan of operations.”

Eating Rats, p. 122.

Bradshaw, who “catches for the queen” at Windsor
Castle, tells me that on one occasion he was out “ catch¬
ing” at a farm-house. They had put some young rabbits
on the fife to broil, and while they went away some
labouring men found out the dinner preparing and ate up
the rabbits. The next time they went to the farm-house
the labourers were paid out, for Bradshaw put some nice
big old rats on the gridiron, and left them as before. The
bait took ; the labourers appeared, and ate up all the rats,
taking them for rabbits. There were not a few broken
heads that evening over this practical joke.

Rats in Ships, p. 132.

I wrote the following in “ Leisure Hour it forms parts
of an article on the “ London Docks —

“ Opposite to where we stood was a large ship, painted a dead-white
colour, looking like a ghost ; her name was ‘ The White Eagle.’ She
had come from Penang, and there was a lawsuit about her. This
was a rather curious coincidence, for the idea generally associated in

APPENDIX.

one's mind with Penang is a ‘ Penang lawyer;’ and this is a species uf
tough and elastic bamboo, which is used extensively for walking-sticks
or for defence. These canes, according to an ancient legend, were
once the principal administrators of justice in that country, and hence
their name, ‘ Penang lawyers,’ to this day.

“ The cargo of this ship was not touched for some time pending the
lawsuit, and the rats had had a fine time of it. Our informant told
us that after dark he had seen sixty or seventy enormous rats sitting
on the galley of the ship, as ‘ oudacious as could be ;’ and they would
not move out of the way even if you kicked them. However, they
met their match in an ingenious man who ‘ catches for the ships.’
He does not catch one or two rats at a time, but a large proportion of
the whole colony: he has large traps, and he gives the rats the run of
the traps (that is, he allows free ingress and exit to the bait therein
contained) for three or four nights ; and when they have come to the
conclusion that there is nothing to fear from the trap, down goes the
door, and he catches sixty or seventy rats at a time. This is no bad
haul, as rats are worth from fourpence to sixpence each for the ‘ dogs
to kill ’ — the normal and natural use of a rat, according to the idea of
a certain class of Londoners. The bait he uses, it should be noticed,
is simple and inexpensive, being only common cabbage leaves. The
rats, after a sea -voyage, are as greedy for green vegetable food as are
the sailors themselves. This bait (the secret of which, I think, I ought
not to have told) might be tried in ordinary houses. The rats make
fine runs down into the holds of the ships, and they eat everything
that is eatable. My informant told me that, in unlading a ship, they
discovered a large package, which, on moving, was found to be as
hollow and as empty as a big drum. The rats had so entirely eaten up
the contents (whatever they might have been), that they had not left
a single grain whereby it could be known what the package originally
contained. The sides of the package remained erect ; and, preserving
its form, the ropes were tied and in their places, yet the inside was
desolate emptiness. ,

“ Besides the rats, there are other nautical plagues, in the shape of
cockroaches — monstrous brutes, as big as two ordinary kitchen black-
beetles tied together. They come from ‘ all parts,’ but more par¬
ticularly from Ceylon and the Mauritius. They can fly as well as
crawl, and they crawl into odd places ; for my informant told me that,
somehow or another, one gigantic fellow crawled down his waistcoat,
and gave him ‘ such a nip in the back.’ However, luckily for us, the
cold ‘ nips ’ these cockroaches in return ; and as the cargo is gradu¬
ally taken out of the ship, the cockroaches get uncomfortable ; they
come up and die in hundreds, from the cold. This is a fortunate cir¬
cumstance ; for otherwise we might have them in our kitchens,
gnawing holes as big as mouse-holes, and eating whole basinfuls of
sugar at a time. We should have to enlarge our beetle-traps, and
the cats would sit watching for them, thinking they were a new kind

APPENDIX.

337

of mouse. A friend tells me that in the East he lias seen a cable of
hide, externally looking like any other cable, but when it is suddenly
used, and a strain put on it, so as to tighten it, the cockroaches come
swarming out of the interstices of the cable, thus escaping sudden death
by squeezing. He has seen them fall out of the cable into the water,
swim to the shore, and then climb up in readiness to get back into the
ship at the first opportunity.”

Food of Water Bats, p. 136.

These rats injure not only the young osier-twigs, but more par¬
ticularly the bulrushes (used also for making baskets, bottoms of
chairs, and matting), which they bite off' level with the water, and
collect together, so as to form a floating bed, which rises and falls
with the water, being secured to three or four rushes standing upright :
and which, consequently, cannot float away. — Letter from Mr. Buck,
of Islip.

Methods of Catching Bats, p. 144.

I published the following in “ Leisure Hour,” No. 408,
1859 : —

Innumerable are the poisons that are made and sold for rats ; but
if you poison one or two, the survivors take warning from their fate,
and you kill no more. I have a note of a well-authenticated instance,
where some poison had been placed in a hole, in order to destroy a
mother-rat and her young family, who had established themselves in
a room. The hole every morning was found stopped up, and it was
ascertained that the mother-rat stopped it up, in order, as was sup¬
posed, to prevent her inexperienced young getting at it and devouring
it. It does not pay the professional rat-catchers to poison their
victims: a live rat is worth fourpence, and can be sold sometimes
even for sixpence to people in London, to kill with dogs ; the con¬
sequence is, that in the neighbourhood of London there is great com¬
petition among the fraternity as to who shall “ catch ” (that is the
professional term) for farmers Jones or Brown. After a good day's
sport, the successful rat-catcher goes to London by train with a sack
half full of live rats, for which he is sure to find a speedy sale, as fresh-
caught country rats are more active than London sewer rats. There
is not the same demand for live rats in Paris; and when I arrived in
that city very late one night, I saw them running about the public
streets at every turn. They do a great deal of good in this city, for
they eat up much of the refuse and rubbish which the Parisian house¬
holder empties at his door.

Every now and then there appear in the newspaper advertisements,
“ How to secure and entice rats, without traps or poison, &c.” I am
in possession of one of these marvellous secrets, which, as I am not
bound to secrecy, and as I paid pretty high for it, I give for the

Z

338

APPENDIX.

benefit of my readers. The first step to be taken is to allure the rats
all together to a proper place : having done this, a large bag, or sack,
must be provided, having a strong case all round the top, in which
a clothes-line must be run: the bag must be capacious enough to
cover nearly the whole floor of the place where the rats are to be
collected together. The string must go from the centre of one end
of the bag up to a pulley fixed in the ceiling of the room, and be
continued along the ceiling to the furthermost corner of the room, and
then hung down into the corner. Having stopped all the holes in the
room, take one pound of good flour, three ounces of treacle, six drops
of the oil of rhodium ; mix well together, and add one pound of the
crumbs of bread. Just before dusk, put a little of the above food
upon the centre of the bag, then take a red herring, and broil it a
little before the fire ; tie a piece of string to it, and trail it along the
ground, by the corn-stacks, outhouses, &c., where the rats frequent,
and let them thus, by following the scent, find out the meal, &c., in
your room. Continue feeding them in the room, and trailing for
them every evening for a week, and allow them to regale themselves
on their food and go quietly away.

At the end of the week, put on an old cloak or gown, so as to make
you appear as much like a post as possible. Just before they come
to feed in the evening, sit yourself quietly down in the corner of* the
room where the food is laid, take the string in your hand, and sit
perfectly still ; wait until you think the rats are all at feed, then pull
up the string sharply ; up goes your bag ; secure the mouth imme¬
diately, and you have the rats prisoners.

Numerous cautions are given in order to make this troublesome
plan (of which I have only given an abstract) succeed, and even then
I much doubt its answering. I give it more as a specimen of a “ rat-
catching secret ” than as a useful receipt.

I would, nevertheless, recommend the householder who is troubled
with rats, to try the following plan, the discovery of a Norfolk farmer
lad. He made some thin mixed meal for the pigs one evening, and
left it in a tub ; the next morning he was surprised by finding a rat
or two drowned in it ; as he had mixed it unusually thin, the rats had
probably taken it for solid meal, and jumped upon it. The next
night he caught more rats in the thin meal, throwing some dry on the
top ; the third night he put some solid meal to encourage them ; soon
after he again put fluid meal, and caught all those that had been
attracted by the solid meal, which would support their weight.

If the reader thinks of trying this plan, let him do it at once, for
1 have such an opinion of the rat’s cleverness, that I almost believe
he takes in our weekly newspapers and periodicals, and will thus
learn this newly-discovered plan for his destruction quite as quickly
as the reader, who, I think, has now had enough about this sagacious
and much persecuted little animal.

Oil of rhodium is a famous thing to attract rats, but it is expense e,

APPENDIX.

339

as it costs nearly one penny a drop. At Newcastle-on-Tyne I met,
standing in the market, a rat-catcher, who was selling boxes of poison
to the farmers. In order to attract the rats to it he mixed up the fat
of a female rat, which he procured by roasting the fattest female rat
he could find, and mixing up the dripping with his poison paste, which
certainly smelt very “ ratty.” He told me that rats had nine and
eleven at a litter; mice, seven, eleven, and fourteen. Both rats and
mice breed every month.

Cobra di Capello. Snakes Swimming, p. 151.

A snake swimming in the water is a most graceful ob¬
ject. My friend, Lord Powerscourt, 1st Life Guards, was
lucky enough to see a snake family taking their morning’s
bath. He writes : “ I saw a curious thing this morning
when out with the watering order, near the Bells, Ousely,
a public- house on Magna Charta Island, near Windsor,
viz., two large snakes, and four young ones, swimming
right across the river Thames, and go to a field-day the
other side.” I well recollect watching two snakes hunting
along a ditch for frogs ; they swam in the most easy
manner, and poked their noses into the holes at the side
in search of frogs, etc. One very hot day, when fishing
for jack, I caught three snakes in about three minutes,
and fastening a hook and a light line to one, fished for
jack with him, but without success ; a young duckling
would have been a better bait.

Handling Poisonous Snakes , p. 153.

There is, I believe, only one safe way of handling poisonous snakes,
to remove them from box to box, &o., communicated to me by
Mr. Bartlett, of the Zoological Gardens. It is to pass a string through
a hole in the top of a stick, like a twitch for a horse’s nose. As the
snake is quietly reposing at the bottom of the cage, pass the noose
round its neck, and gradually twisting the stick till the string has firm
hold of the prisoner ; it can then be removed without danger ; and
being placed in a cage intended for it, the string can be gradually un¬
twisted, and the snake let loose.

I lately heard of a rattlesnake being made use of in a curious way.
A traveller coming from America, brought a quantity of cigars with
him in a large box. Not wanting to pay duty for these cigars, he
had a false top made to his box, in which he placed a couple of big
rattlesnakes. On arriving at the Custom House, the keys were
demanded and given up, with a warning that the box contained
poisonous snakes. The official, being credulous, opened the lid of the
box in an off-hand careless manner. Hearing the noise of the key in

S 2

340

APPENDIX.

the lock, and seeing daylight admitted, the rattlesnakes woke up, and
began to hiss and rattle away with their tails at a grand pace. Down
went the lid of the box in an instant, and the box, rattlesnakes, cigars,
and all allowed to pass without further and more minute exami¬
nation.

Use of Snakes' Coprolites, p. 161.

A gentleman has kindly sent me the following note as
regards this point : —

Sir,

In your entertaining and instructive article on the Cobra, in the
“ Curiosities of Natural History,” you say that what “the doctor”
does with his 9s. per pound dejecta of the Zoological Gardens snakes,
is a mystery to you. In the last monthly number of “ Chambers’s
Journal,” in the article “Science and Art,” the mystery seems un¬
ravelled, as I find “ that a magnificent crimson colour, called murexide,
has been obtained from guano : a result which may be said to have
been initiated by Prout’s discovery of purpurate of ammonia in the
faeces of serpents.

Hatching Snakes’ Eggs Artificially , p. 169.

The hydro-incubator is a most useful instrument, and
will hatch anything. Last year, at Windsor, a wandering
showman brought one of these instruments to the fair,
and exhibited it at a penny a head. He made not a bad
living by hatching chickens, but he also hatched snakes.
He had six or eight young snakes just come out of the
egg. He buys the eggs at Liverpool, London Docks, &c.
Out of one of the eggs once came, to his great surprise, “a
nasty customer,” in the shape of a poisonous snake of
some kind, which he killed immediately. When first he
began to hatch snakes’ eggs, he did not succeed.

When at Paris, the keeper of the snakes in the Jardin
des Plantes showed me a common ringed snake, which had
hatched her eggs for three successive years. She placed
them in a pyramidal shape, and coiled her body round
them. He was obliged to squeeze warm -water over them
from a sponge every now and then. He also had hatched
several broods of young boa-constrictors. If the tempe¬
rature was kept high, it required from sixty to eighty
ways to hatch the eggs ; if it were lowered, about ninety
days.

APPENDIX.

341

History of the Boa-constrictor that died at Bristol , p. 169.

Mr. E. S. Horsley Stedder, Secretary to the Bristol
Zoological Gardens, kindly sent me the following particu¬
lars relative to this snake : —

All I have been able to collect is, that the serpent was 16 feet
long, and 19 inches in girth : it was presented to this Society by
Messrs. Burford and Dyer, African merchants here, in the year 1850,
and was trapped by the latter gentleman about fifteen miles up the
River St. Paul, Monrovia, Liberia, West Africa, with another female
of greater length and age, which laid several eggs the morning after
its capture, and was brought to the United States by an American officer,
who assisted in taking them. Ours had not materially increased in
growth whilst with us. About two years ago a smaller serpent of the
same species was given to us, and kept in the same den with it, and
was probably a male, from the impregnation of the dead one, which
was in great health and beauty to within an hour of its death, which
we conjecture must have arisen from the retention of its ova, in con¬
sequence of not having a sufficient depth of sand to enable it to deposit
them.

Carelessness of Sculptors, p. 171.

In his lectures in Jermyn-street, spring, 1860, Professor
Owen remarked : —

The lower canine teeth are always in front of the upper canine teeth
in carnivora. It gives one a shudder to see sculptors reverse this
order, which they nearly always do.

Human Hair, p. 172.

I have in my possession, belonging- to the College of
Surgeons, what may well be called a terrible preparation of
human hair, which, at the same time, is a warning to lady
visitors to manufactories. A young girl not long ago
persisted in wearing her “ back ” hair down when at
work ; she was warned of the danger, but still wore it
loose hanging down her shoulders. One day, when she
was at work, the wind blew her hair between cog wheels,
and in an instant tore off the whole of the scalp from the
top of her head. One ear even was taken bodily off. ,
She ultimately recovered.

Men Devoured by Snakes , p. 182.

We read also in the “ Bombay Courier ” of August 31, 1799, that
a Malay prow was making for the port of Amboyna, but the pilot
finding she could not enter it before dark, brought her to anchor for

342

APPENDIX.

the night dose under the Island of Celebes. One of the crew went on
shore in quest of betel-nut in the woods, and on his return lay down,
as it is supposed, to sleep on the beach. In the course of the night
he was heard by his comrades to scream out for assistance. They
immediately went on shore, but it was too late, for an immense snake
of this species had crushed him to death. The attention of the monster
being entirely occupied by his prey, the people went boldly up to it,
cut off its head, and took both it and the body of the man on board
their boat. The snake had seized the poor fellow by the right wrist,
where the marks of the fangs were very distinct ; and the mangled
corpse bore evident signs of being crushed by the monster’s twisting
itself round the head, neck, breast, and thigh. The length of the
snake was about thirty feet ; its thickness equal to that of a moderate¬
sized man; and, on extending its jaws, they were found wide enough
to admit at once a body of the size of a man’s head.

Cobra di Capello, p. 185.

I have received the following communication relative to
the boa-constrictor who swallowed the goat : —

“ In reading at page 185, 2nd edition, of your interesting and amusing
work, you state that you had read somewhere of a boa-constrictor
found dead, who had swallowed a goat, &c. I beg to suggest to you
to read a work, which made a great talk some forty years ago, by
Dr. Abel, giving an account of Los Chos — he was the physician who
accompanied our then ambassador to China, and came home with
Captain, afterwards Sir Murray Maxwell, by the Los Chos Islands,
and the book describes the voyage home and the islands. They had
a boa on board, which swallowed a large-horned goat on the passage
home ; and Dr. Abel well describes the gradual progress of the horns
down the snake’s throat, and the way they bulged for weeks after¬
wards.”

The following is from an old book on natural history : —

“ One of these serpents has been known, m the Island of Java, to
kill and devour a buffalo. In a letter printed in the ‘ German
Ephemerides ’ there is an account of a combat between an enormous
serpent and a buffalo, by a person who assures us that he was
himself a spectator. The serpent had for some time been waiting
near the brink of a pool in expectation of its prey, when a buffalo was
the first animal that appeared. Having darted upon the affrighted
beast, it instantly began to wrap him round with its voluminous
twistings : and at every twist the bones of the buffalo were heard to
crack almost as loud as the report of a gun. It was in vain that the
animal struggled and bellowed : its enormous enemy entwined it so
closely that at length all its bones were crushed to pieces like those
of a malefactor on the wheel, and the whole body reduced to one

APPENDIX.

343

uniform mass : the serpent then untwined its folds to swallow its
prey at leisure. To prepare for this, and also to make it slip down
the throat the more smoothly, it was seen to lick the whole body
over, and thus cover it with a mucilac-inous substance. It then
began to swallow it at the end that offered the least resistance ; and
in the act the throat suffered so great a dilation, that it took in at
once a substance that was thrice its own thickness.

Travellers have also asserted that these animals are sometimes
found with the body of a stag in their gullet, while the horns, which
they are unable to swallow, are seen sticking out at their mouths.
Happily for mankind the rapacity of these creatures is often their own
punishment ; for whenever they have gorged themselves in this
manner they become torpid, and may be approached and destroyed
with safety. Patient of hunger to a surprising degree, whenever they
seize and swallow their prey, they seem like surfeited gluttons — un¬
wieldy, stupid, helpless, and sleepy.

They at, that time seek for some retreat where they may bask for
several days together, and digest their meal in safety. The smallest
effort will destroy them : they scarcely can make any resistance ; and,
equally unqualified for flight or opposition, even the naked Indians do
not fear to assail them. But it is otherwise when the sleeping interval
of digestion is over ; they then issue, with famished appetites, from
their retreats, and with accumulated terrors, while every animal of
the forest flies from their presence. They never bite, however,
from any other impulse than that of hunger, and when they do, their
bites are destitute of venom.”

Poisonous Snakes poison one another , p. 187.

Mr. Coulson, of Clifton, has sent me the following curious
story : —

Our puff-adders, at the Zoological Gardens, were fed this day week.
They both at the same time made a dart at the same bird, and in
doing so one has slightly touched the other in the back of the head ;
in two minutes he wTas rolling most awfully about his den — and the
others ran off like mad. The keeper tells me he lay as if dead after
a short time, yet he is still alive, but paralyzed ; his head is almost at
right angles, turned to one side where the bite was made : he cannot
straighten it ; and the moment he is touched, he becomes much enraged.

Catching a Cobra with a Hook, p. 194.

A friend of mine, who is an angler, tells me that when
in India there was a cobra about his wooden house which
he never could manage to catch. Being a fisherman, he
bethought himself of a gorge bait. He therefore got an
ordinary gorge-bait hook, and inserted it into a frog, as

APPENDIX.

344

though he were going to fish for jack. He tied a bit of
string to it, and attached the other end to his hand, and
went to bed, having placed the bait near the cobra’s hole.
In the night master cobra came out to look for his
supper ; he found the frog, gorged it, and went back home
again under the boards. In doing so he jerked the string :
knew he “ had a bite,” and struck sharply. Master cobra
was hooked, and kicked up a fine row under the boards
before he could be bawled out and “landed.”

These cobras are dangerous creatures about the houses
in India. A fellow-student of mine at St. George’s, now
an assistant-surgeon in India, tells me that he was one
morning called up very early, as a gentleman was found
dead on the floor of his apartment. He examined the
body carefully, but could find nothing -except two small
punctures on his hand. It afterwards turned out that the
poor fellow had come home the worse for a good dinner,
and had fallen on the floor to sleep. In the night he must,
have flung out his arm suddenly, and hit a villainous cobra
that was crawling about the floor in the darkness of night.
The cobra had bit him in the hand, and thus caused his
death in an awfully sudden and unexpected manner.

Stones from the Gizzard of an Ostrich , p. 205.

I lately helped to examine an ostrich which died at the
Zoological Gardens. In the “ proventriculus,” a sort of
stomach to which the gizzard is attached, as the “ hopper ”
is to the mill-stone in a flour-mill, I found a large quantity
of stones. I carried these home, and when they got dry,
was surprised to find how beautifully they had been
polished by the action of the gizzard. They were ordinary
gravel-stones the bird had picked up at the Gardens : the
edges were worn quite smooth, and three or four of the
larger stones were as highly polished as an agate marble —
such as boys use.

The Art of Stuffing Fish, p. 244.

As many readers may feel inclined to stuff and preserve
Hhe results of their angling expeditions, I here give an ex¬
cellent notice on this point from a writer in “ The Field,”
March 26, 1857 : —

Having been in the habit, for some years back, of preserving fighes
in the manner desired by H. E., I can without hesitation offer nim a

APPENDIX. 345

method which never fails in producing a respectable and — what is
often of more consequence — an endurable specimen.

I believe that Dr. Richard Parnell, author of the “ Fishes of the
Forth,” &c., was the first to put this plan extensively into practice ;
and he has been followed by many naturalists north of the Tweed.
As the method I adopt is precisely that given in “ Davies’s Practical
Naturalists’ Guide,” I shall simply quote the passage on the subject
from that book: — “When practicable, the fish, as soon as taken out of
water, should be wrapped in fine silk-paper. In all cases it should be
skinned while perfectly fresh, because the colours are very evanescent.
A clean soft deal board, of convenient size, a quantity of pine, a knife
or scalpel, a pair of scissors, some corrosive sublimate in spirit (two
drachms to the ounce), a shallow basin of water, and a quantity of
fine tow or flax, must be first provided. Having determined by pre¬
vious examination which side is to be preserved, the fish is laid on the
clean board with that side uppermost, and the dorsal, caudal, and anal
fins distended, and with a blacklead pencil its outline is accurately
traced on the board, indicating by diverging lines the anterior angles of
the fins. Placing the fish in the shallow basin, and beginning at the
head, an incision is made in the skin down the middle of the back to
the tail, and a similar one down the belly. The dorsal, anal, and
caudal must of course be left attached to the side to be preserved. The
head is next split in two, and the half to be preserved detached from
the vertebrae. The skinning is now proceeded with, commencing at
the head.

The interspinal bones, which support the dorsal, anal, and caudal
fins, are cut through with the scissors close to the skin. Having
removed the half desired, so much as possible of the internal bones
and muscles of the head are cleared away with the scissors. The
eyes are removed from within, so as to leave entire the integument
which, in many fishes, as the gadidae, covers them. The skin and
skull are now brushed internally with the preservative, and any super¬
fluous fluid carefully wiped away. On no account must the solution
be allowed to touch the scales, as it immediately dims them. When
the skin is yet moist and pliable, the back edge is to be pinned to the
dorsal line on the board. In doing this it is necessary to commence
with the head : having fixed it, a pin is to be put in at the base of the
anterior margin of the dorsal fin, and another at the upper edge of the
tail fin, distending them thereby ; the remainder of the back is then
pinned down. A quantity of tow is taken and rolled into a shape
somewhat l'esembling that of the fish, but more slender, and pressed
well back between the skin and the board. A pin is fixed in the front
under the margin of the skin, and we continue to pin down to the
pencil-line on the board until the tail is reached, all the while stuffing
in tow, so as to give the fish a proper rotundity. Should the anal fin
be dry before reaching it, a. damp sponge will immediately restore its
pliability. The pectoral and abdominal fins are now to be moistened

346

APPENDIX.

and distended, by means of pins on pieces of cork. When dry (which
will be in the course of a day, or at most two) the pins are removed,
the eyes are put in, and the skin fastened to a strong cardboard by
means of glue, and coated with turpentine-varnish.

I may add to the above that the pencil outline is of the first import¬
ance, seeing that all fish-skins stretch longitudinally on being taken off,
a fact first prominently brought before my notice by finding that a
plump pike under manipulation gradually assumed the proportions of
an eel. In the absence of corrosive sublimate, arsenical soap may be
used ; but it is as far inferior to the former in fish-preserving as it is
superior in bird aud quadruped stuffing. H. E. need hardly be re¬
minded that some fishes, on account of the thinness of the skins and
softness of the scales, cannot be stuffed in anything like a respectable
way, the only plan of preserving them as skins being to press the skin
between blotting-paper until dry, and gluing it directly on the card.
The varnish I use is copal. — B. D.

Salmon in the Thames , p. 246.

My friend, Mr. Legrew, veterinary surgeon of his regi¬
ment, tells me that his mother (who would be ninety years
old if she were alive now), well recollected the Thames
fishermen hauling up the boats at Barnes, and emptying
out the salmon that they had caught in the neighbour¬
hood. An old man at Sunbury tells me that thirty years
ago he recollects coming down from Laleham with three
live salmon in the well of the boat. When a salmon was
seen, the fishermen were nearly sure to catch him, as he
kept about much in the same place for days together. He
never knew a salmon caught in the Thames with a fly.

Bait for Roach Fishing , p. 255.

The following hint may be useful to some of my
readers : —

There is a small brook which empties itself into the Trent near to
Hoveringham, at the mouth of which roach congregate in great quan¬
tities for about three weeks at this season of the year for the purpose
of feeding on a particular kind of weed that is continually swimming
down. An old roach-fisher visited this spot on Monday with a good
supply of creed wheat and malt, and although the fish have been
taking these baits freely for the last fortnight, he could not persuade
them to bite, their attention being all on the weed, and the angler was
fairly beaten. At last the thought struck him to put a portion of the
weed on his hook : he did so, and the result was that every time he
threw it in a fish seized it, to the surprise alike of himself and other
fishermen who came up at the time and witnessed it. The angler re-

APPENDIX.

347

turned to Nottingham with a good basket of roach. I have long been
aware that in the early part of the season most fish feed on the weed,
but I never knew it to be used as bait. Great credit is due to
Mr. Blythe, of Snenton, for the discovery, and for freely revealing
the secret to the angling fraternity, and thus adding another wrinkle
to the many concerning the gentle art. — “ Bailey, Fisherman” (Notting¬
ham, August 2), 1860.

Introduction of Carp into England , p. 261.

We read in “ The Field ” that carp is one of the natural¬
ized fish in England, having been introduced here by
Leonard Mascal, about the year 1514, to whom the English
are indebted for that excellent apple, the pippin.

Turkies, carps, hops, pickles, and beer came all into
England in one year.

The carp is now naturalized in America, and is there
protected (as I understand) by stringent regulations.

Gold-fish in Hot Water, p. 267.

The following note has been kindly sent me : —

Sir,

I have just been reading your delightful book on Natural History,
and have taken the liberty of mentioning the following fact respecting
gold-fish, thinking it may interest you, —

Some years ago, I saw a vast number of gold-fish in a factory
“ lodge ” at Preston, in Lancashire : at the end of the lodge was a
pipe conveying the warm water which had been used in condensing.
On Sundays the supply of warm water of course ceases : and the
manager of the works told me, that in cold weather, the fish are to
be seen every Monday morning, waiting for it to flow again, as soon
as the engine begins working.

Fish and Fishing. Carp in Hot Water , p. 268.

I find the following passage in Spallanzani’s “ Treatise
on the Nat. Hist, of Animals and Vegetables,” p. 74 : — ■

Carp in Water at 106°.

“ From some observations, we know there are carp living in waim
springs that experience blood heat (Haller, Physiol., tom. ii.). I took
several river carp for experiment. When the water they were in had
been heated to 106°, they exhibited no sign of uneasiness. At 109°,
they began to struggle, and died at 116°. Experiments were made on
other fishes, as eels, tench, lampreys, but none could bear so much
heat. Whence, by analogy, those inhabiting warm springs should

348 APPENDIX.

support greater heat ; and of this the fishes we have just mentioned
afford ample evidence.”

It has been a question as to how far fish will bear cold as well as
heat; and we often l'ead in arctic voyages passages such as the follow¬
ing : “ When the men fished in the river, the fish fi'oze as they were
taken out of the nets ; in a short time they became a mass of solid ice,
and by a blow or two with a hatchet were easily split open. If in
this completely frozen state they were thawed before a fire, they
recovered their animation.” The great John Hunter tried experiments
on the subject, which will be intei’esting to my readers who keep carp,
gold-fish, &c., in their garden ponds which ai'e frozen in the winter,
in order that they may see how far the facts hold good. There was a
joke curi’ent at the time these experiments were made, for we read
“ Whilst John Hunter’s friends, Lynn and Benjamin West, were
warming themselves with a bout of skating on the Serpentine, Hunter
staid at home freezing his fingers in ice in pursuit of his enquii'ies.”
John Hunter thus writes : “ These expei'iments were not originally
instituted with any expectation of the event which resulted from
them, but for a very different purpose ; which was no other than to
satisfy myself, whether an animal could retain life after it was frozen,
as had been confidently asserted both of fishes and snakes. If 1 had
succeeded, I meant to have tided the effects of freezing on living
animals, to a much greater extent than ever can happen accidentally.
For that snakes and fishes, after being frozen, have still retained so
much of life, as when thawed to resume their vital actions, is a fact
so well attested that we are bound to believe it.

“ I. The first experiment was made on two carp. They were put
into a glass vessel with common river water, and the vessel put into
the freezing mixture ; the water did not freeze fast enough ; and,
therefore, to make it freeze sooner, we put in as much cooled snow as
to render the whole thick. The snow round the cai-p melted : we
put in more fresh snow, which melted also ; and this was repeated
sevei’al times, till we grew tired, and at last left them covered up in
the yard to freeze by the joint operation of the surrounding mixture
and the natural cold of the atmosphere. They were frozen at last,
after having exhausted the whole powers of life in the production of
heat. That this was l-eally the case, could not be known till I had
completed that part of the experiment for which the whole was begun,
viz., the thawing of the animals. This was done vei'y gradually ;
but the animals did not, with flexibility, recover life. While in this
cold they showed signs of great uneasiness by their violent motions.

“ As it is confidently asserted, that fishes are often frozen and come
to life again, and as I had never succeeded in any of my expei'iments
of this kind upon whole fishes, I made some partial expei'iments upon
this class of animals ; being led to do this by having found a material
difference in the result of the experiments made upon the whole
animal, and of those made only on parts of the more perfect animals.

APPENDIX.,

349

“ I froze the tail of a tench, which became as hard as a board :
when it thawed, that part was whiter than common ; and when it
moved, the whole tail moved as one piece, and the termination of the
frozen part appeared like the joint on which it moved.

“ On the same day I froze the tails of two gold-fishes till they
became as solid as a piece of wood. They were put into cold water
to thaw, and appeared for some days to be very well ; but that part
of the tails which had been frozen had not the natural colour, and the
fins of the tails became ragged. About three weeks after a fur came
all over the frozen parts ; their tails became lighter, so that the fishes
were suspended in the water perpendicularly, and they had almost
lost the power of motion ; at last they died. The water in which
they were kept was New River water, shifted every day, and about
ten gallons in quantity.

“ From some of these experiments it appears, that the more imper¬
fect animals are capable of having their heat and cold varied very
considerably, but not according to the degree of heat or cold of the
surrounding medium in which they can support life ; for they can
live in a cold considerably below the fieezing-point, and yet the
living powers of the animal will not allow their heat to be diminished
much beycnd 32° ; and whenever the surrounding cold brings them
so low, the power of generating heat takes place ; and if the cold is
continued, the animals exert this power till life is destroyed ; after
which they freeze, and are immediately capable of admitting any
degree of cold.”

Unhooking a J ick , p. 273.

Having had my hands and arms so frequently cut all
over with jacks’ teeth and the back tins and gills of perch,
I would advise all young anglers to carry with them, when
they expect large fish, a small iron hammer, with a short
handle, as a tap with this on the fish’s head quiets him,
and enables the angler to take the hooks out of his mouth.
But lately, when “unhooking” a large jack which had not
been treated with the hammer, he suddenly jumped, and
caught my hand in his mouth, and nearly jumped into the
water again. If there be no hammer present, a penknife
should be run in between the head and the back-bone.
The fish should be held down with the foot during this
operation, or the blade will most likely break off short.

B ell Bods , p. 275.

A party of Frenchmen have had (summer, 1860) capital
sport with the barbel with these “bell rods,” which are
about two feet long. They set several by the side of the

350

APPENDIX.

punt. If the fish are on the feel, the bells keep on ring¬
ing, and the Frenchman hauls them up with “ Ah !
M. Barbeau, you at home, eh ! I ave got you now, M.
Barbeau !”

Lampreys Bait for Cod , p. 277 .

Mr. Kemp, of Teddington, tells me that the Thames
fishermen catch lampreys, which they take to Billingsgate,
and sell to the Dutch fishermen to catch cod on the Dog-
gerbank. They are found to be the best of all bait for
these fish.

Shrew Mouse Carnivorous , p. 279.

“ Your notion of the shrew-mouse being carnivorous, I can confirm
by a singular circumstance that came under my own notice. In a
house that we once lived in near Bury, the cellar was very wet, and
generally full of little frogs. One day the man-servant went down to
draw some beer, and was very much amused to see a little mouse
hunting a young frog. He took hold of the trog, but so intent was the
mouse on his prey that he jumped after it, and both were brought up
struggling to the upper regions. It was at this crisis that we were
called in to look, and there was the mouse sitting on the kitchen-
dresser like a monkey, munching away at poor frog most uncon¬
cernedly. It was afterwards induced to change it for what we then
thought less cannibalistic food for a mouse. We did not keep the
mouse long, as he made his escape.” — From an old schoolfellow at
Winchester.

I have also received the following confirmatory of the
fact : —

I venture to make known to you, in corroboration of your belief
that shrew-mice will kill and feed upon frogs, a contest which I once
witnessed, in which a shrew-mouse was doing his best to worry and
destroy a very large and vigorous frog. It was on a bright sunny
day in the month of April when, being in a plantation at this place,
my attention was excited by the splashing of something in a “ letch,”
or very small runnel of water, that trickled through the young herbage
and the fallen leaves of the preceding year. The water did not exceed
an inch or two in depth, but with here and there a saucer-like pool
deep enough to cover one’s foot, where the leaves had dammed up the
sparkling little current, and in these places there was a little sand or
mud at the bottom. On looking to the spot whence the splashing of
water, accompanied with a low but eager squeaking of a mouse, pro¬
ceeded, I perceived a black water-shrew, with white breast, biting at
the thighs and flanks of a frog, and endeavouring to pull it away
from the water, sometimes hanging on like a little bulldog, and some-

APPENDIX.

351

times snapping at fresh parts of the skin as if to obtain a better hold.
The frog, though not at all hurt, was evidently much alarmed. It
repeatedly shook off the enemy by jumping, and then, by taking a
second spring, threw himself out of pursuit for half a minute ; for
the mouse was so dazzled by the sun that he evidently could not see
the frog when but twelve inches distant, and knew nothing of my
presence though 1 was but a single pace from them. On these
occasions he made casts exactly like a hound until he came upon the
poor frog again. The latter kept as much as possible to the water,
and twice or thrice buried himself in the little pools ; but the mouse
dived with equal ease, and seizing him by the hind foot, jerked till he
had dislodged him from the insufficient stronghold. Probably in
twelve inches of water a frog of this size would have baffled the
enemy by maintaining his position at the bottom.

I witnessed the struggle for about a quarter of an hour, wondering
whether old Homer had not seen just such a Batrcichomyomachia
ages and ages ago. When, being obliged to go away, I revealed myself
to the mouse by giving him a flap from a soft glove, and taking up
the frog, which by this time was not quite so vigorous as at first, I
examined his wounds, but could not discern that the skin had as yet
been broken anywhere. He was then thrown into deep water, where
he might congratulate himself on rare good fortune. I think it would
have taken an hour or two for the mouse thoroughly to exhaust and
kill so large a frog as this was, but the fatal result was easy to be
foreseen. Frogs of smaller size would be easily overpowered.

I have little doubt but that the common bay-coloured shrew will
equally attack frogs, especially since it is numerous as a species, and
several may join in the struggle.

The poor shrews which we find dead upon walks and paths near to
houses where cats are kept, have been killed by these animals, which,
having taken them among the grass, carry them for their cruel sport
to paths and roads where the poor mouse cannot escape by hiding
itself.

I am, sir, very respectfully yours,

Ralph Cakr.

LONDON’ :

PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET
AND CHARING CROSS.

INDEX.

A.

Accident from machinery, 341
Adders, puff, fight between, 343
- fat, 165

Aldershott, whirlwind at, 323
Antediluvian child, 69
Anti-poison balls and stick, 221
Ants eaten by toads, 46
Aquatic larvae, 330
Arabian serpents, 212
Armour from skin of crocodile,
34

Atmospheric railway pump,
rats in, 102

Australia, rats from, 63
Author, the, poisoned, 226
Axminster, the ghost at, 99

B.

Barbel, bell rods for, 275, 349

- , back fin of, 274

- , food of, 273

- , ingenious mode of catch-

ins:, 275

-, parasite of, 289

Barnes, salmon at, 346
Barometers, green frogs used
as, 21

Basking shark, 277

Basse in the Tiber, 285
Bat’s dung at Ely Cathedral,
20

Beavers in England, 90

- , curious tooth of, 90

Billiard balls, 94

Birds and telegraph wires, 157

Bishop’s story, 87

Black rats in London, 60

- killed by brown rat,

60

- trophy, 237

Blackwood, review by, 321
Bleak scales, use of, 283
Boa constrictor, how to skin,
166

- at Bristol, 341

Bodies, human, in desert, 11
Bones, curious assemblage of,

21

- of birds, 257

Box full of rats, 101
Boy bitten by viper, 220

- , dried body of, 12

Boys, street, 307
Brain of rat, 59, 143
Briggs, J. J., Esq., on fish*
showers, 325

Bristol, black rats from, 61

2 A

354

INDEX.

Britons, ancient, pits of, 278
Broiled rats, 335
Buckland, Dr., address at
Taunton, 37

- , experiments on toads, 46

Buffalo killed by boa, 342
Bullets in elephants’ tusks, 95
Bull-frogs, larynx of, 16
Burrowing rats, 334
Bushman’s poisoned arrows,
201

C.

Caddis-worm, tracks of, 233
Californian cock, 124
Camps, rats in, 80
Capercailzie, foot of, 139
Carelessness of modellers, 170,
341

Carp, gills of, 265

- , introduction of, 347

- in hot water, 347

Cats, exportation of, 63

- found dried, 333

- in organ pipe, 333

Chameleons, fight between, 41
Chantrey, Sir Francis, advice
from, 22

Chickens, cunning of, 157
Child, antediluvian, 69
Chinese cookery, 122
Chirotlierium, 54
Cleopatra’s asp, 211
Clewer Mill, rats at, 335
Climbing perch, 233
Cobra and rat fighting, 223
- caught with a hook, 343

Cobra charming explained, 215

- fangs, 194

- , fatal accident from, 344

- in Egypt, 211

- kills a keeper, 153

Cockroaches bite men, 76, 336
Cod-fish from Dogger Bank, 277

- , lampreys bait for, 350

- , parasites of, 289

Coffin of Ancient Briton, 238
College rat, the, 79
Comb on heron’s claw, 138
Coprolites of snakes, 161, 184

- , snake, use of, 340

Corpus College, rat hunt at, 78
Covent Garden, snakes sold at,
161

Cow eats ground-bait, 280
Crabs, cast shells of, 27

- claws, use of, 6

Crab spider seen to shed ita
shell, 30

Crawfish, carry their young,
29

Crocodiles at Oxford, 202

- , colour when alive, 35

- and insect bird, 288

Crouch, Mr., on fishes’ nests,
241

Cure of snake bites, 218

D.

Dabchick choked, 272
Dane’s skin on church door, 84

- , bones of, 334

Dead horses made into Prus¬
sian blue, 82

INDEX.

355

Death from toad’s poison, 43
Deformed tooth of rat, 89
Desert, water berries in, 74
Destongchamps, observations
by, 234

Dirge of immured toad, 332
Dog-fish, spine of, 275, 277
Donkey, Old Joe’s, 302
Donkeys, what become of the
old, 302

Double -headed snake, 177

- child, 177

Dragon-flies, cast skins of, 32
Dress of rats’ skin, 85
Dried cat in the Foreign Of¬
fice, 333

Duncan, Mr., verses on toad,
332

Dutch jack, 237
- - nightingales, 14

E.

Eating rats, 120-128-335
Eau de luce, 220
Eel, air bladder of, 263

- , an enormous, 263

- , conger, destroyed by the

frost, 264

- found in water pipes, 262

- fry made into cakes, 263

- - in Charing Cross basins,

262

Eggs of chameleon, 41

- of newts, 25

- of snakes, 167

Engine drivers in the tropics,
12

Escape, a narrow, 225
Experiments with snake poi¬
son, 197

Explanation of toads in stone,
50-52

F.

Fauntleroy’s ivory warehouse,
91

Fight with a monkey, 311
Fish, a good stuffer of, 244

- and fishing, 227

- , how to drown, 250

- , how to stuff, 244

- jump towards water, 231

- ~, respiration of, 249

— — , shower of, 321

- skins used to polish, 286

- used as symbol, 230

- , why it dies out of water,

249

Flower-pot, toad in, 53
Fossil fish- tracks, 235

- frogs, 54

- man, 68

Fox, ‘hour-glass’ shaped, 313
Frogs at the Trois Freres, 17

- , bones of, 278

- , cooked, 13

- , dealers at Vienna, 19

- destroyed by heat, 9

- , fat of, 10

- , fishing for, 18

- , food of, 19

- , how to keep quiet, 14,

15

in German diligence, 15
2 a 2

INDEX.

356

Frogs in German pond, 13-17

- in horse-pond, 17

- in hydraulic engines, 9

- market at Paris, 18

- , Ovid’s description of, 14

- •, power of absorbing water,

10

- , sad fate of pet, 16

- showers, interpretation

of, 8, 321, 327

- , skin of, 9

- swallowed by boys, 13

- , the green tree, 15

- , voice of, 6

- , water reservoir of, 11

- - , weight of, 325

Frozen fish, experiments with,
348

Fungus upon fish, 290
Furnace-man drinks water, 12

G.

Game cock and heron, 138
Gannet, structure of, 258
Gentles, different kinds of, 282

- , difficult to keep, 280

- , to preserve for the win¬
ter, 281

Gibraltar, monkeys at, 307
Gills of jack, 250
Glands in skin of newt, 33

- - in toads’ skin, 43

Gloves made of rats’ skins, 83
Goat swallowed by boa con¬
strictor, 342

Gold and silver, relative posi¬
tions of, 253

Gold-fish, a cartrload of, 265

- devour their own fry and

spawn, 267

- , food of, 260

- , fungus upon, 290

- in Charing Cross basins*

261

- in hot water, 347

- live in hot water, 266

- lose their colour, 236

- , origin of, 261

Gristhorpe, tumulus at, 237
Grotta del Serpi, 162
Ground-bait, 277
Gudgeon fishing, 227
Guildford, ghost at, 117
Guinea pig in jack’s head, 180
Gulls, fishing for, 256
Gurnard, head of, 260
- , walking, 234

H.

Habits of black rat, 59
Hair, human, as manure, 122

- , designs in, 172

Hairy viper, 176
Hancock, Mr. A., on nest of
stickleback, 241
Happy family, the, 60

- , how to form a, 296

Havre, description of, 291

Hawkins, Waterhouse, restora
tions by, 40

Hedgehog eaten bv an eagle
261

Herons eat water rats, 137
Holidays, rats during, 118

INDEX.

357

Home, Sir E., examination of
sea snake, 277
Homo diluvii testis, 40
Hood of cobra, 206
Hood’s description of barbel,
273

Horace swears at the frogs, 14
Horace’s rat feast, 56
Homed cerastes, 217
Horse-pond, hunt in, 1

- , the, 22

Hottentot adder, 175
Housemaids’ assistant, 309
How to handle a rat, 105
How to kill a snake, 181
Human hair lines, 229
- scalp, 341

Hungerford market, exhibition
at, 68

Hunt after Jenny, 311
Hunter, John, experiments on
fish, 348

Hygenas eat rats, 140
Hybernation of frogs, 10

J.

Jack, a monstrous, 246

- , how to unhook, 349

- , parasites of, 288

- , teeth of, 273

Jacko’s affection for a lady, 317
Jacko and black beetles, 305

- and college authorities,

317

- and railway official, 297

- and the donkey, 300

- assists the servants, 314

- carries his chain on his

tail, 294

- catches mice, 302

- cleans the knives and

shoes, 314

- , escape of, 309

- , fines for keeping, 31 7

- gets into the kettle, 315

- in Lawyer’s bog, 296

- ’s night feast, 303

- love for a pony, 301

- , mischief committed by,

20

I.

Ichaboe, mummy from, 68
Ichthyodorulites, 275
Ichthyopatolites, 235
Iguanodon, discovery of, 40
Ikey, the tame rat, 113
Ilsley Downs, rats at, 119
India-rubber dogs, 123
Isle of Dogs, rats in, 61
Ivory gnawed by rats, 92

- , punishment for, 319

- , skeleton of, 319

Jamaica, rats in, 62
Japan, gigantic newt of, 40
Japanese salamander, arrival
of, 331

Jaques, Mr., on ivory, 93
Jaws of boa-constrictor, 178
Jelly made of ivory-dust, 98
Jews fond of fish, 265
Job, remarkable passages in,
252

358

INDEX.

K.

Keeper attacked by boa, 180
Kingfisher choked, 271
Kirkdale cave, 139

L.

Labyrinthodon, 54
Laocoon and snakes, 152
Larva? cases, 32
‘ Leisure Hour,’ 334, 335
Lias, monsters of the, 38
Lizard swallowed by soldier,
331

Lobster, affection for young, 28

- , a green, 27

- , cast shells of, 30

- -, sense of smell, 6

- , shed skins of, 6

- , Weymouth, 6

Loggerheads, 3
London stalls, 304

M.

Man, definition of a, 12

- swallowed by a boa, 182

Maternal instinct, 337
Megalosaurus, Hr. Buckland’s
description of, 38
Men devoured by snakes, 341
Merthyr Tydvil, fall of fish at,
322

Metal casts of reptiles, 172
Meteorolites, 322
Mi e in parrot-house, 74
Migration of rats, 115
Monkey, an old, 310
Monkeys eat their tails, 316

Monkey learns from experi¬
ence, 313

Montfaucon, rats at, 82
Moth trap, 42

Murchison, Sir K., on gold,
252

Murder discovered by hair, 85
Musk from crocodile, 205
Mussel, new kind of, 248

N.

Nahash, the, 2 9
Native remedies, 222
Neck of heron, 137
Nets and hooks, curious, 287
Newgate market, rats in, 81
Newspaper naturalists, ex¬
planation of the term, 326

- naturalist, 8

Newts eat fish spawn, 24

- , fight between, ^5

- , hybernation of, 329

- in human stomach, 35

New Zealand, rats in, 63
Norway rat, origin of, 62

O.

Oil from herons’ legs, 137
Old British rat, 57
Old William eats the crocodile
203

Omnibus-driver’s tame rat, 111
Ostrich, stones from gizzard,
344

Otters in the Thames, 245

INDEX.

359

Owl choked, 273
Oyster’s power of locomotion,
27

P.

Pactolus at Oxford, 284
Paddocks, 14
Paris, frog-market at, 329
Pearls made of bleak scales,
284

Pebbles from gizzard of dinor-
nis, 205

- in crocodile’s stomach,

205

Perch, decoy for, 271

- - starved to death, 271

- , stickleback in throat of,

272

Platypus, spur of, 189
Plea, a, for rats, 80
Plugging a pope, 230
Poison glands of cobra, 195

- fangs, mechanism of,

193

- of toads, 43

- for rats, 143, 339

Poisonous secretion of newt,
33

- snake, how to tell, 169

- to handle, 339

Porwiggles, 3
Pouches of monkey, 306
Powerscourt, Lord, letter from,
339

Prussian carp at Oxford, 247
‘ Pullah ’ fishing, 231
Pylorus, office of, 253

Q.

Queen horses, 230

R.

Rats and mischievous boys,
114

- are cannibals, 59, 65

- as scavengers, 333

- , bad shot at, 72

- , baits for, 336

- , bites by, 107

- can climb and burrow, 87

- catcher to Her Majesty,

335

- , catching secret, 338

- caught in a box, 101

- caught in meal tub, 337

- , child attacked by, 77

- drowned out of long-boat,

133

- eat dead horses, 82

- eat human flesh, 74

- eat refuse, 81

- eat their young, 108

- feast described by Horace,

56

- fond of warmth, 77

- - found dried, 333

- get drunk, 100

- gnaw dogs’ feet, 76

- - gnaw elephant’s feet, 76

- gnaw ivory, 92

- gnaw wine casks, 101

- in a bed, 78

— — in Arctic ships, 130

360

INDEX,

Eats in hair warehouse, 79

- in pig-sties, 71

- is a cleanly animal, 81

- , men attacked by, 77

— : — , mode of drinking, 106

- , mode of eating, 106

- , multiplying powers of,

70

- , parental care of, 64, 67,

337

- pit, scene in, 66

- , roasted, 331

- , Shaw’s calculation about,

70

- steamed to death, 132

- , structure of hair, 84

- , traps for, 143, 337

- , tumours in, 67

- , use of tail, 86

- , water necessary for, 73

- , wounded, destroyed by

companions, 67

- , young, birth of, 64

Eattlesnake and custom-house
officers, 339

- boy, 327

- , skin of, 160

Reptile, predatory, 39
Reptiles in coal-pits, &c., 51
Rhinoceros and rats, 72
Roach at Windsor, 255

- , food of, 255

- , good bait for, 346

- holes, 278

- , mouth of, 259

Roberts, Rev. A., letter from,
323

Rooks on Wormwood Scrubs, 6
Russell’s drawings of snakes,
158

‘ Rypecks,’ 227

S.

Salamander’s wool, 36
Salmon in the Thames, 346

- , the last Thames, 246

Salt, effects of, upon newts, 35
Scavengers in the water, 289
Scorpion’s sting, 187
Sculptors, carelessness of, 341
Sea lions, 123
Sea snake at Stronsa, 276
‘ Semi-fossilated ’ man, 68
Serpentine, animalculee in,
* 269

- , fish in, 268

- , night lines in, 269

Serpents used as emblems, 156,
159, 165, 210
Shagreen, 287
Shark, fossil, 276

- , spine of, 275

Shed fangs of snakes, 199
Ship rats, 335
Ships, rats in, 98, 129
Shrew mice eat frogs, 279

- , bones of, 278

- , why found dead, 279

Shrew mouse carnivorous, 350
Shooting frogs, 17
Shot at a monkey, 313
Shrimps at Tilbury, 5

- , scavengers, 5

- , shed skins of 6

INDEX,

361

Silver models of animals, 173
Skeleton, a black, 239

- of boa constrictor, 169,

341

Skeletons made by sea lice, 4

- made by tadpoles, 4

Skin of frogs, 45

- of toads, structure of, 44

- , shed, of newts, 26

Snake bites, how to treat, 220

- «• charmer killed, 216

- charmers, 212

- , common, eggs of, at

Paris, 340

- eat snake, 183

- eggs, 167

- eggs, hatched artificially,

340

— — — fang in boot, 200

- , fungus on mouth of, 159

- , mode of progression, 155

- ■, skin of, 158, 160

- , slough of, 158, 163-166

- sloughs used in medicine,

155

- , swimming, 339

Soles’ skin, use of, 287
Spallanzani, experiments with
fish, 347

Spawn of frogs used medici¬
nally, 2

Specuhe in poison of puff-adder,
196

Spoon baits, 287
Sprats, mouth of, 256
Steel-swivel loop, 248
Stickleback at Isle of Dogs, 243

Stickleback eats parasitic fun¬
gus, 290

Sticklebacks’ nests, 239-241
£ Sting,’ definition of, 186, 190
Stone, toads in, 46
Storms, rotatory, 252
Stowe, Mr., verses by, 330
Street rats in Paris, 334
Stuffing fish, the art of, 345
Sucking snake wounds, 219
Sunbury, salmon at, 346
Surley Hall, 290
Sympathetic nerve, 251

T.

Tadpoles eat each other, 7

- , market price of, 23

- , models of, 8

Tail of water-rat, 134

Tame rats, 103

Teeth, deformed, of rats, 334

• - - in stomach of snake,

192

- of rats, 87

- of snakes, 179-191

- , tritons caught by, 23

Texas, horned frog of, 34
Theriacum, 162
Toads eat bees, 43

■ - enclosed in apple tree,

49

- - in a hole, 55

- in stone, 46

- , letter from the poor, 328

- made into beetle- traps,

42

362

INDEX.

Toads, poison of, 43

- , structure of skin of, 44

- , sudden appearance of,

327

Toe biters, 3

Tongue of snake, 185-189
Tortoises, a ship-load of, 298

- be insects, 297

- , modes of cooking, 298

Tracks in mud, 233
Transformation, remarkable,
175

Tripod of life, 254
Tritons reproduce their limbs,
37

Trojan horse, the, 150
Trout, Scotch, 237
Trumpet-rats, lawsuit about,
125

Turnip field, elephant in, 96
Turtle at Christ Church, 299

- , live, how to carry, 299

Tusks, transport of, 96

U.

Understanding of the heart,
254

Use of toads, 45
Uses of fish-skins, 286

Y.

Varnish for preparations, 244
Vegetable snake, 174
Vertebra of snake, 154, 160
Village in an uproar, 309

Vipers used in physic, 162-

164

Voice of newts, 24

W.

Walker, Rev. R., on the
nahash, 209
Walking fish, 234
Walrus tusks, 96
Water-rat, 133

- caught with fish-hook,

142

- , food of, 136, 337

- , fossil, 142

Wells, jack kept in, 269
Whipmaker’s tame rat, 109
Whirlwinds, 323
Williams, Rev. T., letter from,
334

Winchester, water-rats at, 135
Wire- worm eaten by frogs, 20
Wonderful stories, 326
Worms, a chest full of, 280

- , a preserve for, 281

- for fishing, 229

Wounds from poisoned arrows,
202

Wourali poison, 198, 201

y.

Young vipers, 168

Z.

Zoological gardens, rats at, 72

LONDON :

PRINTED ET W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STRE
AND CHARING CROSS.

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