Consigned to their cage, how I hovered about those ‘strange-toothed’ Colubers that long midsummer day! How I wished they would bring their heads close to the glass and yawn the widest of yawns, and how I waited for the ophiological dentist to come and exhibit their ‘fangs!’ for the donor of these valuable acquisitions had been devoting himself to the discovery of antitoxics, and was supposed to be snake-proof, and to do what he pleased with both venomous and non-venomous kinds. But the long midsummer day waxed on, and I gazed at the Xenodon till I knew every mark of his leaf-like pattern; and the day began to wane, and my hopes of seeing the wonderful teeth began to wane also. And I felt I had a sort of claim upon this Xenodon, the ‘Jarraracca’ about which we had corresponded.
I had relied so much on having the pseudo-fangs scientifically displayed to me, that when the visitors were departing and the keeper was at liberty, I told him about these strange teeth which I was so anxious to see, and at last persuaded him to open Xenodon’s mouth for me, and to hold it open (which operation the keepers understand very well) while I made the dental examination myself.
After all there was nothing in the shape of a fang to be seen!
‘Posterior tooth long, compressed’! ‘Last tooth very long, compressed, ensiform’! and so on, said the authorities; but nothing of the kind was here! I could see to its very throat, and the rows of tiny palate teeth and the four rows of jaw teeth, all exceedingly small, but never a fang. So I stared and wondered, and then in my bewildered amazement and vexation I passed my little finger along the jaws and felt the upper teeth.
This practical investigation no doubt greatly offended the imprisoned patient, for suddenly down came a pair of regular fangs—they looked like fangs;—and as my finger pressed the jaw on one or on the other side, I saw these fang-like teeth move, vibrate, exactly like the viperine fangs. When my finger was removed, up they went, folded back in their sheath in true viperine fashion. My finger got a slight prick, for they were exceedingly sharp; but knowing there was no venom in them, that did not concern me, and in a few minutes the sensation was gone. But how was it that Dr. Stradling had made no mention of this extraordinary viperine mobility of the fangs? And what kind of jaw must a snake have to move its back teeth in this manner! For we saw in the previous chapters that the mobility of the fangs is in proportion to the diminishing length of the maxillary bone, that the excessive mobility of the viperine fang is owing to the greatly reduced size of that bone, that a slight mobility is observable where the jaw is somewhat less reduced, and so on; but here is a harmless Coluber with a jaw long enough to hold five or six fixed, simple teeth, and then an extremely mobile long one at the back. Can the jaw be divided in the middle? Thus I marvelled.
‘Now let us look at Heterodon.’
But that pretty little snake positively refused to open its mouth; so, fearing to alarm it, or cause it to disgorge its last meal, I did not encourage its forcible detention.
Not to lose a moment, I then and there pencilled a note to Dr. Stradling, begging him to tell me if he had observed anything unusual in Xenodon’s ‘fangs.’ That I had examined them and seen what appeared very extraordinary; but before describing it, was desirous of having my observations confirmed by him.
But the Dr. had been unexpectedly appointed to another ship, which would sail immediately. Many weeks must, therefore, elapse before his reply could reach me.
That day there was but one direction to which my ophidian compass directed my steps, viz. the British Museum; and several days were spent there hunting every possible book to find any mention of Xenodon’s moveable teeth, but in vain. Surely a feature so exceptional would have been described had it been observed. Pardon, kind reader, these many words about ‘so small an affair;’ but you who are naturalists know the peculiar charm of finding ‘something new,’ producing, as Charles Kingsley described, ‘emotions not unmixed with awe,’ that among the happy memories of study or of travel ‘stand out as beacon points.’ It was my great ambition to add ‘something new’ to science. But here was I with a secret ‘discovery,’ and not knowing what to do with it. And ‘if anything should happen’ to Xenodon meanwhile! Then the keeper would be reprimanded. Plainly, courtesy demanded that the secretary of the London Zoological Society should receive an explanation of my infringement of rules; therefore, in a letter to him, I described Xenodon’s whole history. I also wrote a detailed account of Xenodon to a friend who edited a zoological publication, under the delusion that I should be invited to contribute a full, true, and particular account of these wonderful teeth to half the zoological journals of Europe! ‘First observed by C. C. H.!’ But no!