Next morning, on entering the room, my maid thus greeted me: ‘Lor’, Ma’am! if I didn’t find one of your little snakes down on the carpet close to your chair, and for all the world I as near as possible tramped on it. I put it in along with the others, and it worked its way down in no time!’
Imagine that poor little shred of life passing the night in frantic efforts to burrow into the carpet and retire below according to custom! Whenever held or touched, their first impulse was to conceal themselves beneath, and they would dive and butt with impetuous agitation in their endeavours to push themselves out of sight.
The event in the family had caused me to postpone the hibernating arrangements; so as long as the others ate (a thaw enabling us to dig up worms again) and courted daylight, I kept them in the warm room. But as will be remembered, very severe frost set in that winter (1879-80), and no more worms could be dug up. While hibernating, no pangs of hunger could assail them; and though it cost me an effort to consign those beautiful wee things to the cold and gloom of a temporary tomb, yet it seemed the kindest thing to do under the circumstances; so, in company with their unsympathizing mother and cousins, they were stowed away in moss and darkness, but in a box instead of the jar. Well!—that is all! My ignorance and its sad results were alluded to on p. 165. I can only hope the poor little victims died insensible to their cruel fate.
CHAPTER XXVI.
‘LIZZIE.’
THIS tame slow-worm was promised a chapter to herself in my book, and I trust my readers will not tire of her doings, but vouchsafe their kind attention to an exhibition of still other feats in which the little Anguis fragilis vies with the Great Anaconda.
In her maternal aspect we have done with her. The heroine of the present chapter was for a much longer time in my possession than ‘Blackie’ and those other poor victims, and therefore tamer. When my friends exclaimed, ‘Why on earth do you call that little snake “Lizzie”?’ the simple reply was: ‘Because she is not a snake, but a lizard.’ In what respects the slow-worm is a lizard my readers already know; I will therefore describe what I hope may prove of zoological interest. Already ‘Lizzie’ has ingratiated herself with the readers of Aunt Judy’s Magazine,[131] as also with her personal acquaintance for her gentle and innocent manners.