"On seeing the man it tried to escape, but he quickly caught it by the tail and kept swinging it round until we reached the bungalow. He then laid it upon the ground and made it raise and lower its head to the sound of his pipe. "Before long, however, it bit him above the knee. He immediately bandaged the leg tightly above the wound, and applied a piece of porous stone, called a snake-stone, to extract the poison. He was in great pain for a few minutes, but afterwards it gradually subsided, the stone falling from the wound just before he was relieved. "When he recovered he held up a cloth, at which the snake flew and hung by its fangs. While in this position the man passed his hand up its back, and having seized it tightly by the throat, he pulled out the fangs and gave them to me. He then squeezed out the poison, from the glands in the Serpent's mouth, upon a leaf. It was a clear, oily substance, which when rubbed with the hand produced a fine lather. "The whole operation was carefully watched by me, and was also witnessed by several other persons." How the serpent-charmers perform their feats is not very intelligible. That they handle the most venomous Serpents with perfect impunity is evident enough, and it is also clear that they are able to produce certain effects upon the Serpents by means of musical (or unmusical) sounds. But these two items are entirely distinct, and one does not depend upon the other. In the first place, the handling of venomous snakes has been performed by ordinary men without the least recourse to any arts except that of acquaintance with the habits of Serpents. The late Mr. Waterton, for example, would take up a rattlesnake in his bare hand without feeling the least uneasy as to the behaviour of his prisoner. He once took twenty-seven rattlesnakes out of a box, carried them into another room, put them into a large glass case, and afterwards replaced them in the box. He described to me the manner in which he did it, using my wrist as the representative of the Serpent. [Illustration: THE SERPENT-CHARMER.] The nature of all Serpents is rather peculiar, and is probably owing to the mode in which the blood circulates. They are extremely unwilling to move, except when urged by the wants of nature, and will lie coiled up for many hours together when not pressed by hunger. Consequently, when touched, their feeling is evidently like that of a drowsy man, who only tries to shake off the object which may rouse him, and composes himself afresh to sleep. A quick and sudden movement would, however, alarm the reptile, which would strike in self-defence, and, sluggish as are its general movements, its stroke is delivered with such lightning rapidity that it would be sure to inflict its fatal wound before it was seized.