THE FIFTH DAY.
CREEPING THINGS.
"His hand hath formed the crooked serpent."—JOB xxvi. 13.
"The Lord thy God … who led thee through that great and terrible wilderness, wherein were fiery serpents, and scorpions."—DEUTERONOMY viii. 15.
"The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: and dust shall be the serpent's meat. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain, saith the Lord."—ISAIAH lxv. 25.
The "creeping things" which God caused the earth to bring forth on the Fifth Day are so unlike each other in many respects that we might at first sight wonder that they should have been grouped together; but the more we study Reptiles—so called from the Latin word reptilis, creeping—the more we see that there are many things which this great family of vertebrate animals have in common.
There are four chief divisions of the Reptile family—Tortoises and
Turtles, Crocodiles, Lizards, and Snakes.
Most reptiles have a tail and two pairs of limbs, but, as you know, Snakes are destitute of limbs, and seem to move along by a motion from inside, so that they have been said to walk on their ribs. Serpents are covered with horny scales; Crocodiles and Tortoises have a bony covering.
The Tortoise—so called from its twisted feet, or its crooked way of walking—has, as you know, an upper and an under shell which covers its body like a coat of mail, protecting it from every enemy except man. This strong shell is, like that of the snail, a house for the tortoise to live in; but this house is formed by arched bones, and is part of the creature itself. The four feet of the tortoise or turtle, and a curious mouth rather like the beak of a bird—without teeth, but with jaws hard enough to make a bite from it very painful—and a little scaly tail; these are the only parts of the animal not covered by the shields of its bony shells.
The Lizard has both limbs and teeth, but no shell. Lizards are wonderfully active, darting away at the least alarm, so that it is not easy to catch them.
We may think of the Crocodile of the African, and the Alligator of the North American rivers, as enormous lizards; though they are now placed in a class by themselves, on account of their horny covering, which is so strong that it is almost impossible to pierce through it, and so smooth that a bullet will glance off from it. Serpents have neither shell nor limbs. Their vertebræ, as you will see, if you look at any skeleton of a snake in the Museum, fit very beautifully one into the other; and owing to this they are able to glide swiftly along the ground, to coil their shining length round trees, and to dart their heads in every direction.
In one respect Tortoises, Lizards, and Serpents are alike—they all lay eggs, only the shell is not made of lime and earth, but is soft like leather. They are also cold-blooded animals, like fish. Of tortoises, some live on land, some in marshy places, some in rivers; turtles live in the sea, their lungs being so made as to enable them to remain under water without breathing.
The common tortoise, often kept in gardens, is found in the south of Europe, and is generally not more than nine inches long. Its upper shield is exceedingly strong. My brothers and sisters and I used often to stand upon the back of a pet tortoise which lived in our garden; it did not seem to feel our weight, but I remember finding it no easy matter to keep my feet together upon its smooth back, and none of us could perform this feat unless the tortoise was pleased to stand still while we balanced ourselves upon him. I can, in imagination, see this little tortoise of ours now, not larger than a crab such as you see at the fishmonger's, with its short legs and feet, and its little tail, all covered with scales, sticking out between its upper and under shells. How we used to laugh, when we saw him draw in his head and feet under the shelter of the shell: the only sign he gave of being annoyed at all our pranks! We were told that our tortoise might not die for a hundred years, and I have heard that some have been known to live twice that time; it is a slow sort of life, but we must not forget that, in the poem about the Hare and the Tortoise, it was "slow and steady" that won the race.
I cannot remember that we ever gave our tortoise anything to eat; it must have catered for itself in the garden where it was so fond of burrowing and hiding away, that we had many a hunt for it when it was supposed to be lost. Mr. Wood speaks of a small one which he used to feed with bread and milk. He kept it, not in a garden, but in his own room, where its favourite place was the rug: for it enjoyed the heat so much, that it made many attempts, with its short legs and heavy shell, to climb over the fender in order to get nearer to the fire. I don't remember that our tortoise ever made any noise; but this one, shortly before it died, went about mewing like a young kitten. Far from living to be a hundred, Mr. Wood's pet died so soon that he had no opportunity of seeing whether it would in time get to know him; but a story is told of a tortoise who did take a fancy to one person, and, though he would attend to no one else, would come creeping along at her call, and tap the boot of his favourite with his beak, in token, we may suppose, of his regard. One lady, who had a long-standing acquaintance with a tortoise, having fed him for thirty years, said he would come to her, and to no one else; which looked rather like "cupboard love," you will say.
You may have often admired the tortoise-shell of which combs are made, with its beautiful wavy lines and markings; it is taken from the outside of the shell of the turtle or sea-tortoise, which is caught not only for the sake of its shell, but because its flesh is so good to eat. You may perhaps have seen, as I have, a small turtle at the door of a shop, and wondered where it came from, and what brought it there. You may be quite sure that it has come a long way, and that the poor creature is soon to be made into soup. Very awkward it looks, poor thing; for its proper home is in the water, and not on the hard pavement; its feet are rather like fins, so that it may be able to make its way rapidly through the water, and it only comes ashore to make its nest in the sand, where it scoops out a great hole with its paddle-like feet, and then covering its eggs over safely, leaves them for the sun to hatch.
I have heard that as many as two hundred eggs have been found in one of these sand-nests; but not all laid by one turtle; for those who hunt for the eggs have watched a crowd of animals come ashore, and have seen one of them dig a deep pit with its broad paws, lay its eggs, and cover them over; then another has done the same, until there have been several layers of eggs: such a nest is a lucky find; for turtle eggs are said to be delicious food, though some I tasted were very "strong" and nasty.
[Illustration: TURTLE.]
The turtles common in Jamaica, and other islands of the West and East Indies, are great creatures five or six feet long, but they are not difficult to capture, for when once they have been turned over on their backs, the shell is so heavy that they cannot, owing to the shortness of their legs, turn themselves back again, but lie helpless on the sand.
Of Lizards, the second division of the Reptile group, I doubt if you have seen any, except in the Reptile-house at the "Zoo"; for although there are two kinds of these active little creatures in our country, they do not often court our society. The common lizard, about six inches long, with very bright eyes, has a tail which is so brittle, that if you were to catch hold of it, it would break right off, and its late owner would dart away to its hiding-place, leaving the old tail in your hand; itself growing a new one.
The Sand-lizard, also found in England, is about twice the length of the common lizard: it lives on sandy heaths, and like the turtle, lays its eggs in the sand, to be hatched by the sun. But neither of our lizards is so pretty as the little green one so common in the warmer countries of Europe. It may be seen on walls, or by the wayside, basking in the sunshine, and now and then darting at a fly. The whole species are, like the butterflies, summer creatures, and hide themselves safely underground before winter comes.
In the Reptile-house of the Zoological Gardens, I have often stood to look at the largest kind of lizard; for the Crocodile, that huge animal with its green glaring eyes, and its armour made of bony plates with sharp ridges, is but an overgrown lizard. If you wish to form some idea of what it is most like, you can look at one of the beautiful little newts which live in some pond or ditch near you, and fancy it magnified many, many times, and then you will not have a bad notion of the crocodile, the lizard of Africa, or of the Cayman or Alligator, the great lizard of the New World.
[Illustration: CROCODILE.]
The word crocodile means a creature which dislikes saffron; so it would be of no use, I suppose, for us to offer that lazy-looking animal floating in his tank, looking as lifeless as the trunk of a tree, with his nose and a little ridge of his mail-clad back alone appearing above the water, a saffron bun—to say nothing of his being a creature whose appearance does not seem to invite us to come to close quarters, or to hold any communication with him. But we have little idea of what these enormous reptiles are really like, when we see them so far away from their native haunts. It is thought by some that the "leviathan," spoken of in the book of Job, whose "teeth are terrible round about," is the crocodile; for its mouth is larger than that of any other animal, and is armed with very sharp teeth. Dr. Smith tells [Footnote: "Nile," Dictionary of the Bible, p. 621.] us that crocodiles were once so plentiful in the East, that the great river of Egypt swarmed with them, and the Egyptians, who made almost everything into a god, worshipped them and made mummies of them, as they did of birds, cats, and snakes.
I have often thought that when the mother of Moses long ago laid that child who was "fair to God" in his bulrush cradle among the reeds by the river's bank, her heart must almost have failed her as she remembered the terrible crocodiles; but she had faith in God, and He suffered no wild beast to molest that little ark. The crocodile feeds upon fish, and any animals which he can catch, when they come to the banks of the Nile and other African rivers to drink. Though it is clumsy in its movements on land, it makes its way swiftly through the water by means of its tail; sometimes it opens its terrible jaws, gives a great yawn, and then shuts them again with a sound which is heard far away. Mr. Arnot, a missionary in the heart of Africa, tells us that the crocodiles in the great river Zambesi drag the game which they catch under water, and so drown them, and then hide them under the river's banks. He says, "I used to watch these animals come up with perhaps a quarter of an antelope, and by firing at their heads I compelled them to drop their supper, Which my men picked up from their boats." The crocodiles' eggs are about the size of goose-eggs, and are said to be good to eat.
Herodotus, the "Father of History," tells a curious story about the crocodile and the Nile bird. He says, "When the crocodile takes his food in the Nile, the interior of its mouth is always covered with flies. All birds with one exception flee from the crocodile: but this one bird, the Nile bird, far from avoiding it, flies towards the reptile with the greatest eagerness, and renders it a very essential service. Every time the crocodile goes on shore to sleep, and at the moment when it lies extended, with open jaws, the Nile bird enters the mouth of the terrible animal and delivers it from the flies that it finds there. The crocodile shows its recognition of the service by never harming the bird."
I have heard that the flies which molest the crocodile are gnats, and their devourer a kind of plover.
Near Karachi, in India, there is a swamp caused by hot springs, which is inhabited by crocodiles. There are over two hundred in the tank, which has been walled in, as they are considered sacred creatures. Buffaloes stand in the water unharmed, but any other animal which came within reach would be instantly devoured. A rash young Englishman once made the tour of this tank, alive with crocodiles, by walking on their horny backs!
Alligator is only the Spanish name for all lizards, so called in allusion to their having legs like arms. The great American lizard, known by this name, is not so large as the crocodile; it loves heat, and will bury itself in the mud in cold weather. It feeds mostly upon fish, and will drive them before it in a shoal, until they have got into some creek or narrow bend of the river, and then stun them by blows of its great tail. Mr. Waterton, who knew the South American rivers so well, tells us that he once came upon what he thought a pretty sight—a number of young alligators, about a foot long, playing about on the sand like so many rabbits. He also tells a story, which might have had a sad ending, saying [Footnote: Life of Charles Waterton, p.56] that when he was anxious to secure an alligator, which he much wished to stuff, with its tough skin uninjured, he would not allow his men to shoot at him, but actually jumped upon his horny back and rode him along the sandy river-bank until the poor creature was tired out, and the daring rider secured his prize. I daresay yon would like to see the picture which one of his friends made of him, riding upon his dangerous steed.
We may form some idea of this naturalist's feat from what he tells us in another part of his book about his "wanderings." "One Sunday afternoon," he says, "when a good many people were standing about on the banks of the Orinoco, never dreaming of danger, a great Cayman came suddenly out of the river, seized a man, and carried him off beneath the water, so that he was seen no more."
How sad it would have been had Waterton shared a similar fate, in his effort to get the alligator's skin! Life is a precious gift from God, and no one has a right to risk his life in a rash foolhardiness, which is very different from the true courage which does not shrink from facing danger if the life of one more helpless than himself is in peril.
But while we know that no one has a right to give up his life unless at God's desire, and that it is wicked in His sight for anyone to risk losing his life unless at God's command, we must not forget that there is no risk for those who count not their lives dear to them for Christ's sake. He spoke some solemn words about "loving" and "hating" life, which His servants should ever remember.
You will be interested to know that the alligators' eggs are laid in a nest made of grass on the banks of a stream, and that they often travel for miles across forest or prairie from one stream to another. The nest is raised higher and higher by a fresh layer of grass, cut with the great water-lizard's sharp teeth, every time more eggs are laid, until it is as high as a cock of hay. The eggs take a month to hatch; but as soon as the young alligators are out of the shell, they are quite able to run about and get their own living.
A gentleman who was looking after some building in a lonely part of South
America,
"Where on the mighty river banks,
La Platte and Amazon,
The Cayman, like an old tree trunk,
Lies basking in the sun."
caught a baby-alligator, and made it so tame that it would follow him about the house like a dog.
It must have been a strange sight to see this little creature, born in a rushy swamp, scrambling upstairs after his master; but stranger still to see him lying on the rug before the fire, with his head resting upon the cat, of whom he had become so fond that he was restless and uncomfortable when she was not near him.
He was fed on raw meat and milk, and was shut up in cold weather, like the tame swallow, in a box lined with wool; but, alas! one frosty night the poor little pet was forgotten, and next morning found him dead, killed by the cold. How often we find that the stories of pet animals, especially wild ones which have been made unnaturally tame, have had a sad ending!
The Blind-worm, so called from its small eyes—and yet these tiny eyes are brighter than some larger ones—is a kind of lizard without legs, and is, on that account, sometimes included in the Snake-family. We may come upon it in hot weather, among the furze bushes upon the common, or the stones of some old ruin. It feeds upon a little grey slug, and is like the common lizard in being so brittle that you can hardly take hold of it without breaking it.
There is one more lizard which I have seen next door to the crocodile tank at the Zoo: a very curious little animal, almost of the same colour as the stick along which it walks, so slowly and silently that you may stand and watch it for some time without being sure that it is moving at all; though its eyes, which can move in different directions at the same moment, and its long thin tongue, so clever at catching the insects on which it feeds, are constantly in motion; but for its eyes and tongue, the Chameleon looks as if it were as dead as the withered branch to which it clings.
The name of this lizard means "Ground-lion," but it is very unlike the king of beasts both in appearance and disposition. The chameleon is found in Spain, in Sicily, and in Syria; its home is in the branches of trees. Many stories used to be told of the way in which it would change colour, not exactly by blushing like a human creature, but by becoming green, yellow, and even black when angry or calm, or when in sunshine or shade; but naturalists who have kept a careful watch upon it do not believe that all that has been said about this is true. There seems to be no doubt, however, that it changes its colour according to its surroundings—a means of protection given to a creature otherwise very defenceless.
[Illustration: "A lizard's body, lean and long,
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue.">[
Serpents—so called from a word which means that which creeps—are constantly used in the Bible as emblems of deceit and treachery. The words, "More subtle than any beast of the field," may well come to our minds as we watch a serpent, with its limbless body, winding along with that soft, gliding motion to which we have given the name "snake-like."
In the serpent's eyes, too, though they are often so beautiful that we cannot but admire them, there is some of this same dangerous subtlety—an untrust—worthiness which makes us shrink from looking at them.
There are many varieties of this large family; some, like the rattlesnake, cannot climb or swim, but crawl along the ground, the terror of unwary travellers who may tread upon them in the dim forest-paths; others are Water-snakes; some, like the Boa and Python, are dreaded, although not venomous, because, of their enormous strength, and power of crushing their victims in their close embrace; others, like the Cobra, for their deadly bite; while many—we might almost say most—snakes are quite harmless, for it has been reckoned that not more than one in ten is venomous; and none but the giants of this family are dangerous, except for their poisoned bite. The skin of serpents is covered with what are called false scales, which do not overlap each other like those of the fishes, but only seem to do so; and these scales are said to help them to move along rapidly. Most of them are beautifully marked and spotted, and some shine like gold in the sun, while others have pale, soft tints; but these lovely colours fade in death, just as those of fish do; so that a snake in all its glittering beauty can only be seen when alive. They often change their skins, creeping out of the old and appearing ready-dressed in the new. A traveller along the banks of the Nile has often found these cast-off skins in the fields; they are always turned inside out, for the old skin, which is very soft, folds back as the snake slips out of it.
[Illustration: SPOTTED SNAKES]
I suppose the first thought of all of us, on finding a snake in the grass, would be, Is it a venomous one? So I think you will like to know that poisonous snakes are rare in Europe; and Mr. Wood [Footnote: Natural History p. 521.] tells us that the Viper, which is our only venomous serpent, is one of those least dangerous to life, although far from a friend to those who shrink from pain. It may be known by dark spots down the back. When we speak of venomous serpents, we mean those whose bite is to be dreaded, because it conveys a tiny drop of poison, which mingles with the blood, and often causes intense anguish, ending in death. In poisonous serpents, the venom lies in a little bag at the root of a long sharp tooth, pierced by a narrow tunnel, through which, at the moment when the bite is given, the poison flows into the wound. If these poison-fangs—one on each side—are taken out, the bite of the most dangerous serpents becomes harmless.
The Indian serpent-charmers of whom you have heard know this, and before they allow themselves to be bitten by the deadly cobras, with which they are so fond of playing their feats of jugglery, are careful to extract their sharp poison-fangs. Snakes seem to have a higher degree of intelligence than is possessed by reptiles generally, and they can be trained to be as playful and friendly as kittens; as you will allow when you have heard a story which I have read, about some tame serpents which lived in a cupboard, and were allowed to crawl about a gentleman's drawing-room and lie coiled up on the tables and in the arm-chairs—besides being on the most familiar terms with his children.
But we were speaking just now of the Viper, and you remember in the account of the Apostle Paul's stay at Malta how the people who had been so kind to the shipwrecked company looked at him when the viper crept out of the bundle of sticks which he had gathered and laid on the fire, and fastened on his hand? They expected that he would have swollen—for that is one of the effects of the poison—or fallen down dead suddenly; but the Lord Jesus, when He was on earth, said to His disciples, "Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you." And when He was going back to His Father, He said to those who believed on Him, "In My name … they shall take up serpents"; so we are not surprised that His servant "shook off the beast into the fire, and felt no harm."
We must not forget, that although God may now allow what we call a violent death to come to one of His children, whether by the bite of a serpent or by some accident, nothing can possibly happen to them by chance; and whatever dangers He allows them to fall into or saves them from—all that comes is the very best for them that could happen: because "we know that all things work together for good to them that love God."
Though you may admire the "spotted snakes" at a safe distance, in their cages, I know you will not be sorry to hear that in England we have but two kinds—the Ringed or Grass snake, which has no poison-fangs, and is perfectly harmless, feeding upon the frogs which it finds in the marshy places which are its home, and upon mice and young birds; and the common Viper or Adder, which has two poison-fangs, but is not ready to use them, unless it is trodden on, or otherwise provoked. This snake is found in woods, and is fond of basking in the sun. It hatches its young before their birth; so that the viper's brood have not to make their way out of the shell before they can run about.
It is sad that dogs, and sometimes children, have been killed by its bite; but it has not generally been fatal to men. These snakes are fond of cream, and will wind their way into the dairy, and skim the milk-pans, and sometimes visit hen-roosts, and suck the eggs.
The most terrible of the venomous snakes are the Cobra of India—called by a Portuguese name, which means "hooded"; a very grand-looking serpent, which holds its head high, and gives a loud hiss as it rises to strike its prey; and the Rattlesnake of South America.
The Cobra de Capello is a land-serpent, but can swim, and climb trees. It is treated with great respect in Egypt and India; and the people of Ceylon say that it belongs to another world, but has come to pay them a visit. They worship it in their temples, and their priests feed it with sugar and milk, and never allow it to be killed. I believe serpents are not now worshipped in Egypt; but they once were. They are constantly represented upon Egyptian monuments, which are as old as the time when the children of Israel were in Egypt; and on one of them may be seen three men, who are being offered as sacrifices to a serpent which is represented coiled around the seat of the sceptred king, as if protecting him.
The cobra loves music; and it is upon these serpents especially that the snake-charmers like to show their skill. They take them about, coiled up in baskets. When the performance is to begin, the lid of the basket is opened, and the charmer, seated on the ground, begins to play upon his pipe. Instantly the beautiful snake lifts its head, expands its hood—a loose skin about the neck which it makes large or small at pleasure—and creeps out, waving its body gracefully while the music lasts, and when it ceases, dropping down again into the basket.
Some people have power to charm serpents; I have read a story of a man who, by his music cleared a house of the snakes which infested it; having got into the empty rooms, and hidden themselves in the crevices in the walls. It was a strange sight to see them creep from their hiding-places at the sound of the pipe; but sometimes serpents are deaf both to the voice and music of the charmer—"like the deaf adder that stoppeth her ear; which will not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely" to which David compares the wicked.
Since the bite of the cobra is so deadly, it is well that travellers are not likely to meet it; for in the day-time it sleeps in the depths of the forest, gliding silently out at night in search of food. The bold naturalist, of whose alligator-ride you have heard, says that he never saw any snake pursue a retreating prey; so that when a man, threading the mazes of a forest, sees a serpent gliding towards him, he has but to turn into a side path, and be safe. But if a snake is trodden upon, or otherwise roused to anger, it will dart forward upon its enemy, in self-defence; also, if one of the enormous snakes comes upon a man, it may seize him before he has time to run away. Waterton, however, did not know what fear was; and instead of being paralysed with terror at the sight of serpents, once [Footnote: Life of Charles Waterton, p. 55.] caught a large one, the "Bush master," and holding it by the throat so as to make it impossible for it to bite, walked home with its folds coiled round him. He showed his courage at another time quite as much by rescuing a little bird out of the very mouth of a snake in a tree, as by the famous alligator exploit.
[Illustration: RATTLESNAKE.]
The Rattlesnake of South America takes its name from its warning rattle, a sound made by some loose bones at the end of its tail, which knock together when it moves, and so give fair warning of such a dangerous foe being in the neighbourhood. Its bite has been known to cause death in two minutes, and when it does not kill immediately, it produces a dreadful burning feeling all over the body. Horses and dogs show very great terror if they see these snakes; but the country folk are not so much afraid of them as you would expect, for they know that it is the habit of the Rattlesnake to glide away at the sound of footsteps, and as long as the warning sound is heard, they feel safe. If the rattle is silent, it means danger, for the snake is about to spring.
A Frenchman tells us that he once disturbed a mother rattlesnake, and saw it coil itself up, open its mouth wide, and allow the five little ones which were lying beside it to glide in, and hide themselves there. He was very much interested, and waited behind a tree to see what would happen next. In about a quarter of an hour he saw the little snakes come out again; but when he once more showed himself, they hid as before, and the mother quickly glided out of sight.
The Puff-adder of Africa, when roused, will breathe in air and puff itself out to an extraordinary extent. Being, like all these cold-blooded creatures, very fond of warmth, it often comes at night to fires made by herdsmen or travellers; and so it happened that a traveller in South Africa, sleeping soundly one night beside the fire, wrapped in his cloak, was awakened by a weight on his chest, and found to his horror that a puff-adder had coiled itself up inside his shirt. His first thought was to seize the unwelcome visitor and throw it from him, but remembering that it probably would only injure him if disturbed, he had the presence of mind to let it remain in the warm nest it had found for itself, until, roused by a light, it slowly uncoiled itself and crept away.
Of the serpents which are dreaded—not for their bite, for they have no poison-fangs—but for their great strength and daring, and for the way in which they coil round their victims, crushing them to death in their terrible embrace—the most dangerous are the Python of the Old World, and the Boa-constrictor of the New.
In one respect all serpents are boa-constrictors, for a very small one has been seen in the act of thus crushing a bird; but the great boa which inhabits tropical America is a giant, which has been known to swallow even a buffalo whole, after it has crushed it to mummy, and broken all its bones. Boas can swim and climb; they will catch fish as they come near the surface of the water, and drag them ashore; or hang by their tails from some forest tree, and thus lie in wait to seize any animal which may be passing. They are now very shy of men, and not much feared by them; but these great snakes used to be worshipped as gods by the people of Mexico, and some of their serpent-idols have been found in ancient temples—showing how much they were once dreaded; for it is the habit of men to worship what they greatly fear.
The Python, a snake very like the boa, is an object of horror to the people of South Africa; yet they are unwilling to destroy it, because they believe it has an awful power, and say that no one has ever been known to injure a python, without being severely punished in some mysterious way. I have read an account of an adventure which a Dutchman had with one of these serpents, which I must tell you, because of the part played in it by his little dog. You shall have the story in his own words:—"I had in my cabin a large and strong cage, enclosing a python of considerable size, but which appeared to be dull and inanimate. We were lying off the coast of Borneo, where I was detained for some days. When I came again on board, I had not taken many steps before my little dog seized me by the trousers and endeavoured to hold me fast. I shook him off and proceeded, when the dog seized me again, and I again roughly forced him from me. At this juncture my attention was directed to several hatchet-marks on the deck, and I instantly inquired the meaning. The answer was, 'The snake, sir! the snake is loose!' And so it proved. The reptile had cast his slough, and assumed with renewed beauty all its natural energy. It had forced itself out of the cage, and after doing some damage below, found its way to the deck, spreading consternation among the men; by whom, as it appeared, it had been slightly wounded, hatchets having been used for its destruction. Hence the marks on the deck, and hence the fear of the dog, and its anxiety to detain me from advancing into danger.
"With some precaution I proceeded to the spot where the snake was said to have ensconsed himself, and soon observed him lying in coils. The instant he saw me, he raised up full half of his length, and glancing around as if uncertain whether to attack or fly, commenced a succession of violent undulatory movements, the head alternately towering aloft and touching the deck. At last, spying an opportunity, he dashed along with inconceivable rapidity to the other end of the vessel, whither he was pursued; again he displayed the undulations as described, and again darted to another part of the deck. All felt excited, not without a misgiving that some accident might take place. In this manner the chase was continued," the story goes on to say, until the snake received its death-blow from a cutlass. He measured seventeen feet. "I repented of my roughness to the dog," thus his master concludes, "and he was henceforward a great favourite with the men, who appreciated his fidelity and intelligence."
We read in the Epistle of James that "every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind"; and I have read of some snakes kept as pets by an English family, which were not only perfectly tame, but seemed to be exceedingly fond of those to whom they belonged.
An artist named Severn who visited this family says he found himself in company with a large boa-constrictor, a python, and several smaller snakes. He felt a good deal alarmed when the master of the house was called out of the room, and he was left with the boa—a great serpent as large round as a small tree—coiled on an arm-chair beside him. Presently two little girls came in with their mother; they at once went to the boa, calling the huge snake pet names, and allowing it to twine itself around them. He says, "The children over and over again took its head in their hands and kissed its mouth, pushing aside its forked tongue in doing so. The animal seemed much pleased, but kept turning its head continually towards me with a curious gaze, until I allowed it to nestle its head for a moment up my sleeve. Nothing could be prettier than to see this splendid serpent coiled all round Mrs. Mann while she moved about the room, and when she stood to pour out our coffee. It was long before I could make up my mind to end the visit, and I returned soon after with a friend to see my snake-taming acquaintance again. The snakes seemed very obedient, and remained in their cupboard when told to do so." [Footnote: Romanes' Animal Intelligence, pp. 260, 261.]
Although I tell you this strange story, I do not think I should like to make a pet of any serpent, however tame it might be; because it was this creature, "more subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made"—which that enemy of God and of the souls of men, who is spoken of in the last book of the Bible as "that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world," used as an instrument, when he came to tempt Eve in the garden of Eden.
The word Eden means "pleasure"; and when we were talking of that delightful place—that garden which God planted, and where He put the man whom He had formed—the little ones were asked to tell all they knew about it.
Leslie's answer was, "It was God's garden"; and Eustace and Dick told of the two trees which were there, "the tree of life also, in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil."
It was of this tree that Sharley and Chris spoke, when they answered the question—
"There was something in the Garden of Eden to remind Adam and Eve that they were God's creatures, subject to Him. What was it?"
"It was the tree of knowledge of good and evil," they said; for "the Lord God commanded the man, saying. Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die."
Another question which the little boys had to answer was this—
"What was the first sin?"
"When Eve and Adam plucked the fruit." This was the answer given by all.
I want you to think about it. Adam and Eve owed everything to God, for He had created them in His own image; and had blessed them, and given them "dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth," and had put them in the beautiful garden which He had planted. How dreadful that they should disobey the only command God gave them, and thus sin against Him! But had not Eve sinned against God, even before she put out her hand and "took of the fruit thereof, and did eat; and gave also unto her husband with her, and he did eat?"
Chrissie said that when the serpent asked Eve that question about what God had said, she ought not to have taken any notice; and Sharley thought that the first beginning of the sin was listening to the serpent at all, and that the devil now puts it into our hearts to ask, "Is there any harm in doing it?" when he wants to make us listen to him, and forget what God has said. And then we all agreed that the way to answer Satan is in Scripture words.
I think Sharley was right in saying that the first beginning of the sin in the Garden of Eden was when Eve listened to the serpent—lent her ear to one who dared to ask such a question as "Hath God said?" The next step in the road which led away from God, Eve took when she answered that daring question; the next, when she believed the lie of the serpent, instead of the word of God.
The devil is a liar, and when he spoke to Eve he tried to make her think that God was not so good to His creatures as He might be, for He would not allow them to have the very best thing in the garden—that forbidden fruit. The great enemy of God envied His creatures their happy place where they received everything from Him, and were dependent upon Him for everything; and God allowed the man and woman whom He had made, to be proved; and, when weighed in the balance, they were found WANTING. And so we read in God's book how "by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned."
As Eve gave her confidence to the serpent, she lost confidence in God, and went on to believe that when God had said, "In the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die," and the serpent said, "Ye shall not surely die," it was the serpent that spoke the truth. How dreadful it was for God's creatures to look to the devil for happiness, to give up God who created them, and take Satan for their master!
Instead of happiness they found only shame and misery. The serpent had said that their eyes should be opened, and they should be as gods, knowing good and evil. We read, "And the eyes of them both were opened;" but God in His word tells us of those whose eyes "the God of this world hath blinded." They had no power to choose what was good; and tried to hide away from God.
And so the first man was driven out of God's garden, and there has never been any way back to it at all! No way back to God either, for Adam or for his children, except through Christ, "the Second Man, the Lord from Heaven."
It was of this wonderful way, of Him who is "the Way," that God spoke when
He told the serpent that the Seed of the woman should bruise his head.
The Lord Jesus Christ was "the Seed," the One who loved us and gave Himself for us: the One whom "God so loved the world" as to give, "that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life;" the One who "once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God."
We have been learning something of how dreadful the bites of serpents are, how full of deadly poison: and we have been reading how, by listening to the old serpent, the poison of sin—having our own will, and thinking hard thoughts of God—came into the hearts of God's creatures, bringing sorrow, and shame, and death with it. How beautiful that the righteous One in whom was no sin, and who come to take away our sins, should tell us that "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up." The serpent of brass was not kept in Moses's tent; it was lifted high, for all to see it. God, who knew His people's sin, and had sent those fiery serpents to bite them, had Himself told Moses to make that serpent of brass, and those who were bitten had only to look at it and live. If they looked at their own hurt, or at each other, or at Moses—all was of no avail; but "it came to pass that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived."
God—who knew that every one of us born into this world is born away from Him, and with the dreadful poison of sin, like the serpent's bite, in us—gave His only begotten Son to be lifted up, that "whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." And He tells us to look at Him and live, just as the poor sinful people, dying of the serpent's bite, looked at the serpent of brass, and their deadly wound was healed. God has told us to look straight to His Son, dying for sin, dying in our stead; but it is not our looking that saves us, it is the blessed Saviour whose name is called Jesus, "for He shall save His people from their sins."
I must not forget to tell you that many of the extinct animals whose skeletons are to be seen in museums belonged to the class of Reptiles.
We read that "God created great whales"—or sea monsters—and remains have been found of enormous lizard-like creatures. One has been called the Fish-lizard; it seems to have had a crocodile's head, with a body like that of a small whale.
Another had a long swan-like neck, the body and tail of a quadruped, and paddles like a turtle.
Another, called the Winged-lizard, had bat-like wings and dreadful jaws armed with numerous teeth. All these "Saurians" are believed to have frequented the sea or rivers; but another called the Great-lizard, was a land-animal, as was the Forest-lizard, and a monster kind of Toad with very curiously formed teeth. But no description will give you an idea of the size of these creatures, though I may tell you that a party of gentlemen dined inside the body of one great extinct lizard at the Crystal Palace, where models, not very accurately made, of the most remarkable ancient animals are to be seen. I think my first thought when I see the actual remains of these old-world monsters, with their terrible jaws, is that of thankfulness that they have passed away from sea and land. But we know that God who created them "saw that it was good," and in the Book of Job we may read His description of mighty and terrible creatures which show forth His power.
We were speaking of a monster toad whose fossil remains have been found; and I must tell you that before we had done with the "Creeping Things," I was asked a difficult question. "To what class do the frogs and toads and newts belong? Are they Vertebrate animals? Do they belong to the land or the water?"
I said they certainly do belong to the great Backboned family, and are placed in a class by themselves, as they are neither Mammalia, Birds, Fishes, nor Reptiles, properly speaking, and are called Amphibia, because they live, as it were, a double life.
[Illustration: BROWN FROGS.]
They have gills, which enable them to breathe in water, to begin with, and lungs which enable them to breathe in air, later on. They are mostly without scales, and do not need to drink, because they imbibe moisture from the air through their soft damp skin. When you see a frog hopping across your path, you see a creature which has known many a change in its life, for frogs are among those very interesting animals which undergo what are called metamorphoses. We have met with this word before, and may remember that it is used to express the change from one form to another which is wrought in some living creatures in the course of their growth. I daresay you imagine as I once did, that all young animals are like their parents, only on a smaller scale; for you see that a young horse, or elephant, or whale, a pup or a kitten, is at its birth in all respects just what it will be when full-grown, only smaller. So it is with the reptiles and the birds—the young ones, when hatched, are like the parents. But in the case of frogs and newts, and also most insects, the young ones do not merely increase in size as they grow, but pass from one stage of growth to another, each different from the former, until like the butterfly when it emerges from the chrysalis, they reach what is called their perfect state—and these metamorphoses or changes are very curious and interesting indeed.
When Master Froggie was a young tadpole, some pond or ditch was his home, for he was an aquatic animal; but now that he is full-grown he has passed into another way of living: he breathes, or rather swallows air, and must, as he swims about with his beautifully webbed feet, come to the surface of the water now and then, or he would die. I am sure you know the frog well enough, and you may even have heard the harsh croak from which it has its name, as you have passed some damp meadow or weedy pond, on a summer evening. But I wonder whether you know frogs' eggs when you see them?
My brothers and I did not, long ago, when we used to fish with sticks in a pond by the cross-roads for what we called "bunches of grapes!" The grapes were little balls of jelly with a tiny black spot in each, and we never guessed that they were really eggs, and that the little black spot in the slimy covering would one day actually turn into a live, leaping, croaking frog. If we had had the patience to watch, we should have seen that little black dot grow and grow, until it seemed to have become a creature almost all tail, with the head and body still only a tiny ball. By-and-by we should have seen legs and feet begin to appear, and as the legs grew longer, the tail become shorter, until it quite disappeared. Meanwhile, other changes which we could not see would have taken place; instead of the gills, which made the tadpole a water-breather, Master Froggie would have acquired lungs, like any land animal; the aquatic would have changed into an aërial, the herbivorous into a carnivorous creature, so that we may well say it has lived two lives.
The beautiful little newts' life-history is much the same, only that their transformation is not quite so complete, for they never lose their lizard-like tails, but remain little crocodiles to the end of the chapter.
"Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father who is in heaven is merciful."
"Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,
Nor crush that helpless worm;
The frame thy wayward looks deride
None but our God could form.
"The common Lord of all that move,
From whom thy being flow'd,
A portion of His boundless love
On that poor worm bestow'd.
"The light, the air, the dew He made
To all His creatures free,
And spreads o'er earth the grassy blade
For them as well as thee.
"Let them enjoy their little day,
Their lowly bliss receive;
Oh! do not lightly take away
The life thou can'st not give."