the winter months. When spring was well
advanced he took it out, uncorked the bottle,
and the beast, which had appeared to be
dormant, sprang up at him with such speed that he
had a very narrow escape.
The carpet-snake of Queensland is a species
of boa, and is venomless. I ought to know
this well, for about five years ago I was skinning
a monstrous one which I thought dead,
when it fastened upon my fingers, and bit me
very severely in three places, drawing blood
copiously. I shall never forget the looks of my
men, and their rapid production of any amount
of knives to cut off the finger on the spot. I
laughed at their dolorous appearance, wrapped
my hand in a handkerchief, and finished the
operation of skinning, to their utter amazement.*
Nothing can persuade even the most experienced
bushmen that any snake can be harmless.
* The length of this snake (I have the skin yet)
was twelve feet and a half.
About four years ago I witnessed a battle-royal
between my son and a carpet-snake. Both
showed great determination. My boy was only
twelve years old; but he was more than a match
for the snake, so I would not interfere. He had
picked up a short stick, and after combating
for about a quarter of an hour, he succeeded
in breaking the brute's back, and thus rendered
it an easy prey. It measured eleven feet two
inches. A very large opossum was found in its
stomach, and in a perfect state of preservation.
The last snake-fight I had took place a short
time since in the bed of a dry creek that runs
into the Thomson river. I was riding along
carelessly, when all at once I saw an enormous
brown snake wriggling between my horse's legs.
Now the brown snake is a thing of horror, so I
tried to back my horse with all my strength,
but the attempt was useless, so I gave him the
spur, and he went over it. I then dismounted,
seized a stick which broke at the first blow, and
by this time the snake was ascending the steep
bank. He was on the point of getting away,
when I made a fiercer blow with the fragment
that remained in my hand, and broke his back,
but it was near the tail, and the beast was able
to turn round and make almost a vertical blow
at me from above. I don't think I ever in my
life experienced such a feeling of alarm as I did
during the half second of its approach. I
remember seeing its devilish head level with my
face, and I remember striking out with my
stick, but how I escaped I know not to this
hour; however, when my staff came up they
found me skinning it. I never saw a larger
brown snake; it measured more than six feet in
length, but in girth it was immense.
A great deal has been said of the instinctive
dread of snakes which is exhibited by four-footed
animals. This does not accord with my
experience, as I know of dogs and cats having a
great liking for killing them; and I have never
yet had a horse that showed the slightest alarm
even while quite close to them. Once my
favourite saddle-horse actually "squashed" a
large black snake which was lying coiled up on
a road, and I did not know it until I had got
a yard or two beyond the spot.
It is impossible for a stranger to pronounce
upon every snake he may come across; still, it
may be useful to give a few hints which can be
fully understood by every one. Whenever you
see a snake with a neck, that is, with a hollow
behind the head on both sides, and, combined
with this, a thin tapering tail, be assured that
snake is non-venomous; but when you see a
snake with no neck, and, combined with this, a
stumpy tail, that snake is in the highest degree
venomous.
OLD STORIES RE-TOLD.
SHERIDAN'S DUELS WITH CAPTAIN MATHEWS.
IN the year 1771, Miss Linley, the daughter
of a musical composer of that day, as famed for
her beauty as for her singing, was the delight of
Bath. Dr. Burney, Johnson's friend, has left us
a formal eulogy of her fine soprano voice and of
the exquisite spontaneousness with which she
sang, not merely those simple ballads which were
the taste of an age that peculiarly affected
simplicity, but also the intuitive taste and precision
with which she gave the most difficult passages of
Handel and of our best old English church music.
Of that "nest of nightingales," as Dr. Burney
prettily calls the Linley family, Miss Elizabeth
Linley, then eighteen, was the queen-bird.
Although she had appeared at concerts and
oratorios ever since the age of twelve, "The Maid
of Bath," as she was generally called in the
Crescent, the Pump-room, and in Sidney-gardens,
had an unconquerable dislike to the public exercise
of her profession, and turned a cold ear to
all the lovers, honourable and dishonourable,
who crowded around her, tiring her with
extravagant flattery, and wearying her with offers of
hearts not generally much worth having.
Prominent among these bowing and grimacing
lovers was Mr. Walter Long, an old bachelor,
whose estates afterwards descended to the
celebrated heiress, Mrs. Wellesley Long Pole.
Mr. Linley, cold, shrewd, and calculating,
had stipulated that his fair daughter, being
his apprentice, and a very profitable one too,
the lover should, on his marriage, pay him
(Linley) one thousand pounds for the loss of
her professional services. Miss Linley's tears
and remonstrances were treated with indifference.
Wearied out at length by the arguments,
threats, and remonstrances of her
mercenary father, the poor girl at last consented to
the marriage. Dresses and jewels were ordered;
the day was fixed. Rumour's thousand tongues
wagged ceaselessly, in scorn and ridicule, at
the unequal match; the Pump-room was
agitated; the beaux and ladies fluttering about the
baths, with their chocolate cups on the buoyant
trays before them, were never weary of
discussing the coquetries by which the St. Cecilia
of King Bladud's city had ensnared so wealthy
a husband.
To the astonishment of the dumb-foundered
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