And soon we see the skin separating at the lips, where, no doubt, it has caused irritation and induced that incessant rubbing. Now the entire upper lip is free, and the loose portion laps back as Ophio pursues his course. Next we see the skin of the under lip detaching itself; and that is also reversed, the two portions above and below the jaw increasing every moment and folding farther and farther back with the ceaseless friction until they look like a cape or hood round Ophio’s neck, from which his clean bright head emerges. Hitherto the process has been tedious, but now the ribs are reached, and they take part in the work and facilitate matters greatly. The snake has no longer to rub himself so vigorously, but simply to keep moving; and at every step, so to speak—that is, with every pair of ribs in succession beginning at the neck—the large ventral scale belonging to that pair is shoved off, carrying with it the complete circle of scales. With an almost imperceptible nudge each pair of ribs eases off a portion, which continually lengthening as it is vacated, and reversed of course, folds back more and more, till Ophio looks as if he were crawling out of a silken tube. As he thus proceeds, now very rapidly, he emerges bright and beautiful—six inches, a foot, two feet; and all the while each pair of ribs successively performs its part with that nudging sort of action, like elbowing off a coat sleeve. If we had begun to count from the very first pair, and if he had not gone under his blanket during the process, we could have told the precise number of pairs of ribs which he has to assist his toilet. He had two yards and a half of old coat to walk out of, but this he achieves in far less time than it took him to get his head clear. In his native tree or jungle he would have found leaves and underbrush to aid the operation; and it would be a great kindness to snakes in captivity to provide them with wisps of straw, when sloughing, or some rough rubbish in their cages. Soft blankets and smooth wood-work do not offer sufficient resistance for them. The constricting snakes are less at a loss. From their pliancy of motion, and their habits of coiling—from the fact of their ‘whole body being a hand,’ as we have already seen, they can assist themselves by their own coils passing through them, and so helping to drag off the slough. Those who have kept snakes tell us that the tame ones will even leave the slough in the hand, if you hold them during the process, and permit them to pass gently through the closed fingers. Owen, in his _Anatomy of the Vertebrates_, mentions as a not unfrequent action, that when the head is free from the slough the snake brings forward the tail, and coils it transversely round the head, then pushes itself through the coil, threading its body through this caudal ring.