On several subsequent occasions the Hamadryad has left the entire tail, often nearly all of it, unreversed, as do many other snakes. Sometimes by a succession of jerks they manage to get rid of this portion; sometimes a comrade happens to pass over the slough—a great assistance, as affording resistance. I observed this particularly in a small constrictor, one of the three that entrapped two or three sparrows in as many coils at the same moment. In this case the whole process occupied less than ten minutes. After rubbing its head against the gravel, and turning it completely over to free itself from the upper shields, its ribs took chief part as usual, and I noted particularly that each pair moved in concert, and not alternately. This little snake went round close under the slanting edge of his bath-pan, which afforded him some assistance, and by the time he reappeared in front the whole slough was discarded, excepting a few inches of tail. These few inches caused some trouble, until his friend the python happened to pass over it, when with one final jerk the slough was free and entire from lip to tip. It was the quickest and most complete sloughing I have ever watched.

When all was over, the large, beautiful black eyes of this four-striped or ‘four-rayed’ snake were particularly brilliant, as the little constrictor looked about and watched observantly, rejoicing in his newly-found faculty, after the blindness of the preceding days. Often the snakes are shy, and change at night; the tamer ones, however, undress when it suits them, affording frequent opportunities for observation.

The slough when first discarded is moist and flabby; but it soon dries, and then in substance is as much like what is called ‘gold-beater’s skin’ as anything else, though a stronger texture is observable in the head-shields and the ventral scales.

The size of the scales does not appear to bear any very regular correspondence with the size of their owner; for you will notice that some snakes only three feet in length, have larger scales than others three yards in length. Some of the immense pythons have smaller scales than a rattlesnake; and again, snakes of similar dimensions have scales different both in size and form. As great a variety is seen in the form and arrangement of scales as of shields.

Snakes are to a certain extent invalids previous to the shedding of their skin, temporarily blind, courting retirement, and declining food; but they recover triumphantly the moment the slough is discarded. They then appear to rejoice in a new existence, their functions are in fullest activity, their appetite keen. At this time the poisonous kinds are most to be dreaded, probably from the venom having accumulated during the quiescent condition.

At this time, too, their colours show to the greatest advantage, their eyes are brightest, and their personal comfort no doubt is enhanced in every way.

Before taking leave of the integument, a few words about the markings or patterns and colouring of serpents may not come amiss. Mr. Ruskin, in his celebrated lecture on Snakes, exhibited to his delighted audience a fine anaconda skin, and drew attention to the ‘disorderly spots, without system,’ with which this snake is marked. Taches à tortue, as it was at first described; and by Dumeril as marked ‘avec de grandes taches semées sans ordre.’ Notwithstanding the irregularity the skin is handsome. The oval spots of various sizes and at unequal distances have still a character of their own, as much as the spots of the leopard or the stripes of the zebra, no two of which are placed with mathematical precision. Mr. Ruskin had but few kind words to bestow on ophidian reptiles, but the disorderly patterns of their coats he greatly disapproved. Moreover, the great artist was inclined to pronounce a sweeping verdict on the conspicuous ‘ugliness of the whole poisonous families’ without exception.

Now unfortunately we have had occasion to lament the good looks of many venomous kinds which are easily mistaken for harmless snakes. Some of the American elapidæ are amongst the most beautiful, with their black, white, and crimson rings. The African viper and her young one baffle the artist’s palette in their prismatic hues, as do several other of the horned snakes. Indeed, for rich colourings the venomous kinds rather carry the day. The form, it is true, is often clumsy and ungraceful in the vipers, but as an exception we have ‘vipera elegans,’ and others of less ugly and slighter forms.

Since the subject was thus presented to us, I have, however, observed the markings more closely; and it really is curious as well as interesting to note how very nearly the various patterns approach to a perfectly geometrical design, yet failing in the same manner that a bad workman would fail in imitating the pattern given him to copy.