the weather is cold, the rabbits continually
nestle themselves between the folds of the
serpent, for the sake of the warmth, remaining
there until he suddenly bethinks himself of
devouring them; and they have often been
found asleep in a coil of the serpent's tail,
with the serpent's head remotely watching
them.

On the evening, then, as previously stated, a
boa constrictor has two lively rabbits given
him for his supper. As he has not had any
food for some weeks, it is supposed that the
rabbits will be a very acceptable present for
his Serene Lengthiness. The cool air of
autumn is tempered by a warming apparatus
in his saloon, but in case he should wish for a
still greater degree of heat, a blanket is given
him to creep under, or in the folds of which
he may enroll himself at his pleasure. It
is not a fine household blanket, but a thick,
rough, railway blanket-wrapper of the largest
size. All his comforts being thus attended to,
the keeper of the Serpent-house bows and
takes his departure for the night.

As it is an almost infallible test of temper
and general condition of mind and body,
how an individual, of whatever age, deports
himself on being awakened suddenly—some
children, and grown-up people, always
awaking "cross," and others, smiling—we
cannot but think it would be very interesting
to anybody fond of a practical study of
natural history, to go through all the dens,
cages, and cases of a large collection of
animals, during the night, by way of noting
the very different receptions he would meet
with from different species of creatures thus
aroused from their slumbers. Such an
opportunity is continually enjoyed by the
fortunate individual who holds the office of
watchman in the Zoological Gardens, who
goes the rounds of all the "houses" and other
receptacles every night with his lantern.

In the course of the night of the 3rd of October
last past, the watchman as usual entered the
Serpent-house. Walking round, and holding
up his lantern to the different cases, he
perceived that the boa constrictor's "supper" was
hopping about the case in a very unconcerned
manner; but, on turning from the rabbits to
their proprietor, what was his dismay at
perceiving that the serpent had seized upon
one corner of the thick, rough blanket, in
preference, and was drawing it down his
distended throat!

Away ran the watchman to call up the head
keeper. The head keeper left his bed directly,
and, huddling on a few clothes, hurried to
the Serpent-house. The statement of the
watchman was but too true; and, by this
time, the boa constrictor had contrived to
draw down more than half the blanket. The
head keeper, knowing it would be in vain
to endeavour to get the blanket back, after
"matters had gone so far," hoped that the
serpent would disgorge it of his own accord,
if left to himself quietly, as soon as he found
that he had made a mistake in the food he
had chosen. Both head keeper and watchman,
therefore, went away.

It is the opinion of Mr. Mitchell, the secretary
of the Zoological Society, who is
constantly studying the habits of animals, that the
serpent has no palate; and, that in the night
he had made a dart and a snap at one of
the rabbits; but, missing it in the darkness,
had caught a mouthful of the blanket, and
conceiving it to be a very good rabbit (but
with rather a loose skin, we should suppose),
had never troubled himself with any further
considerations.

In the morning, when the head keeper
went to the Serpent-house, in a very anxious
state of mind as to the result, there he saw
the two rabbits sitting up by the side of the
serpent's water-pan, washing their faces, to
be nice and tidy for the day,—and the last
two inches of the thick railway blanket just
going down the serpent's throat!

Since this event, the serpent has never
shown any signs of having discovered his
blunder, or any disposition to disgorge his
bedding. The thing is, of course, quite
indigestible. Had he swallowed two or three
bullocks' hides, his work would have been on
sure grounds of decomposition; but as to this
coarse piece of manufacture, what hope can
his friends have? The serpent, however, lies
torpid, as usual after a good meal; drinks
more water than he drinks in general; and
perseveres, with full reliance on his wonderful
powers and peculiar organization. The blanket
can be seen to have moved several feet down
his body. It is now about the middle (October
28th). Will he manage it somehow, or will
he die? That is the problem.

TRIBUNALS OF COMMERCE.

ONE does not care to ask a tailor his opinion
of the price of figs, and a very good judge
of the law in English Courts, may be a bad
judge of the equity in English trade. The
life and spirit of our whole body of European
commerce lies in the principle of strict
mutual confidence established among
merchants. Every trade has its technicalities
and its usages which regulate its movements.
To evade these, is to be dishonest in one's
calling, although it may be a proceeding
not demonstrably dishonest when enveloped
in the technicalities of law. Commercial
questions between merchants, traders, bankers,
and others, concerning buying and selling,
dishonoured bills, interpretation of engagements,
frauds in imitating trade-marks, and
such matters, do not want to be confused with
mysteries, delays, and quibbles, as the
ordinary course of law confuses them; they do
not want to be tried before men who have to
receive from witnesses the most elementary
principles upon which they can found a judgment.
These questions arise between men,
the life of whose business is undeviating