poisonous serpents, known in popular language
as rattlesnake, copperhead, and moccasin. The
first of these having been the chief subject of
study, we premise by stating that nearly all of
our statements refer to this serpent. As a
poisoner it ranks side by side with the cobra
and vipère fer de lance, and probably above the
copperhead and the moccasin. In fact, all that
we know at present leads us to believe that the
venom of all serpents is alike in toxic character,
and only differs in degree of virulence and in
amount; so that what we gather as to the
chemical and other qualities of the venom of
any one serpent may, as a rule, be said to apply
alike to all of this terrible family.

The rattlesnake, as every one knows, gets his
name from the curious jointed appendix to the
tail by which the hunter becomes aware of his
neighbourhood. We have seen one of these
sets of rattles numbering eighteen joints,
another thirty six; which, if the vulgar notion
be correct, would allot to the owner just so
many years of life. We have known, however,
three of these joints to form in forty summer
days; so that it is probable the larger snakes
might carry them by dozens, if they were not so
brittle as constantly to be broken off and lost.

The attitude of a large rattlesnake when you
come suddenly upon him is certainly one of the
finest things to be seen in American forests. The
vibrating tail projects from coils formed by about
half the length of the snake, while the neck,
lifted a few inches, is held in curves, the head
perfectly steady, the eyes dull and leaden, the
whole posture bold and defiant, aud expressive
of alertness and inborn courage.

Let us tease this gallant-looking reptile with
a switch. He has power to throw his head
forward only about one-third to one-half the length
of his whole body, so that our game is safe
enough. Sometimes he will strike at the stick;
usually he reserves his forces, judging wisely as
to his own powers. At last, when he finds that
he is getting nothing by pluck and endurance,
he turns his head, and, unrolling coil from coil,
glides away, not very swiftly, ready at a moment
to coil anew, as a regiment forms square to
receive a charge. If, as he glides along, you
can seize his tail, and quickly enough lift him
from the earth, holding him at arm's length, he
will be utterly unable to return on your hand
or to reach your body, having none of the great
physical force of his cousins, the constrictors.
If, while on the ground, in any posture, coiled
or not, you seize his tail, that deadly head will
return upon you with a swiftness which seems
as though you had touched some releasing
spring in a piece of quick machinery; so that
there is no truth in the notion that the snake can
strike only when coiled. The awful celerity of
this movement is in odd contrast to the sluggish
pace of most of his actions, which are sadly
deceptive, and have cost more than one man his
life. Hundreds of times have we seen this
swift motion, and as often marvelled at the
simplicity and certainty of the means which
drove the relentless, death-laden head to its
mark. Let us look a moment at the rest of the
apparatus, and then we shall the easier
understand how all the parts unite in functional
activity so as to give to this horrible instrument
the same efficiency which Nature has secured
for her other and more seemingly useful
purposes.

The laboratory in which the serpent makes
his potent medicine is an almond-shaped gland
behind the eye, on either side of the upper jaw.
It looks like an ordinary salivary gland, and
is merely a mass of minute tubes surrounded by
little sacs or cells, only to be seen by a
microscope. Here the venom forms, and thence
reaches a larger tube at the lower side of the
gland. This is the only poison-sac. It
communicates with a tube or duct, about the size of
a steel knitting-needle, which runs forward
under the eye, and then around the front of
the upper jaw, where it has a slight enlargement
made up of muscular fibres, so arranged
as to keep the duct shut and to cork up the
poison until a greater power overcomes the
resistance. The anterior bone of the serpent's
upper jaw is double—one for each side. It is
an irregular truncated pyramid; apex down,
and hollowed, so that in it rests the stout base
of the fang. This exquisite instrument is
merely a hollow tooth, curved backwards like
the bend of a sabre, with a little forward turn
at the tip, which is itself solid, for strength's
sake, and as sharp as the finest needle. About
a line below this point, on the front aspect,
there is a minute opening. If we run into this
a bristle, it will appear at the base of the tooth,
just where the tube leading from the gland lies
against the fang, and is held to it by the folds
of tissue which lie in the gums. When unused,
the two fangs, with their supporting bone, in
which they are rigidly fixed, are drawn
backwards, and lie, covered by a cloak of mucous
tissue, one on each side upon the roof of the
snake's mouth. A second muscle is so attached
to the maxillary bone as to be able to erect it,
together with the fang, which, when thus ready
for use, projects downwards into the open
mouth, its convexity forwards.

Thus placed, it is at the utmost disadvantage;
and this is only in part overcome by the
backward bending of the head and the extreme
opening of the mouth at the moment of the
bite. Lastly, let us understand that two
powerful muscles fastened to the upper bones
of the head run over the venom gland, and
then are attached, one on each side, to the
lower jaw. Let these muscles shorten and two
things result—the jaws close on the body
bitten, and, the gland being abruptly squeezed,
the venom flies along the tube of exit, through
the basal opening of the fang, and out at the
orifice near its tip.

It will be easy now to understand how this
wonderful machinery moves in sequence to its
deadly result. You have come a little too near
this coiled death. Instantly the curves of the
projecting neck are straightened, half a ring of
the coil flashes out with it, and the head is