As a gentleman of widely recognised learning and veracity, therefore, it may be considered that Mr. Bell, and with good reason, entertained no doubt whatever as to snakes drinking, and also drinking milk. Mr. Bell, moreover, had known of the celebrated python at Paris (see chap. xxiv.), which in 1841 evinced a thirstiness that has become historical in all zoological annals. The circumstance was fully recorded by M. Valenciennes at the time; when a no less distinguished ophiologist than M. Dumeril,[16] _Professeur d’Erpétologie au Musée à Paris_, was especially appointed to the management of the reptile department there. That very distinguished ophidian lady, the python, need be referred to here only as regards the drinking question, the rest of her history coming in its place in this book. It will be remembered that she laid eggs, and to the surprise of all, coiled herself upon them to hatch them. ‘Pendant tout le temps d’incubation la femelle n’a pas voulu manger’ (she began to incubate on the 6th May); ‘mais le 25^e de mai, après vingt jours de couvaison, son gardien, Vallée, homme très soigneux et très intelligent, la voyant plus inquiète que de coutume, remeuée la tête, et lui présenta de l’eau dans un petit basin; elle y plongea le bout de son museau, et l’animal en _but_ avec avidité environs de deux verres. Elle a ensuite bu quatre fois pendant le reste du temps de sa couvaison: le 4 juin, 13, 19, 26.’ (Her eggs began to hatch early in July.) The interesting invalid, ordinarily tame and gentle, had latterly displayed anger and irritability on being disturbed, pushing away the hand if touched; but in her present state the want of water was so great that she evinced uneasiness to her guardian, and permitted him to move and turn her head, so that she could dip the end of her muzzle into the basin. The narrator argued, from this remarkable demonstration, that the incubation (in which a rise of temperature was observable) produced a sort of feverishness which caused her to decline solid food, though her thirst was so great that she almost asked for drink. When eight of the fifteen eggs were hatched, the little pythons ate nothing until after their first moult (which happened to them all within a fortnight), but during those early days of their existence they ‘_drank several times_, and also bathed themselves.’ This event perhaps established the fact beyond any doubt that snakes do drink, so far as modern and scientific ophiologists had ventured to decide; and M. Dumeril, from long observation, is able to tell us how. Speaking of the tongue of a snake, this experienced naturalist informs us that ‘cette langue fort longue sert-elle comme on l’a observée quelquefois à faire pénétrer un peu de liquide dans la bouche, car nous avons vu nous-même des couleuvres laper ainsi l’eau, que nous avions placée auprès d’elles dans la cage, où nous les tenions renfermées pour les observer à loisir.’[17]