The subject of snake bites is one of no small interest in this country.
Liquid ammonia is, par excellence, the best antidote. It must be administered immediately after the bite, both internally, diluted with water, and externally, in its concentrated form.
The "Eau de luce" and other nostrums sold for this purpose have ammonia for their main ingredient. But it generally happens in the case of a snake bite that the remedy is not at hand, and hours may elapse before it can be obtained. In this case the following treatment will work well. Tie a ligature tightly ABOVE the bite, scarify the wound deeply with a knife, and allow it to bleed freely. After having drawn an ounce of blood, remove the ligature and ignite three times successively about two drams of gunpowder right on the wound.
If gunpowder be not at hand, an ordinary fusee will answer the purpose: or, in default of this, the glowing end of a piece of wood from the fire. Having done this, proceed to administer as much brandy as the patient will take. Intoxicate him as rapidly as possible, and, once intoxicated, he is safe. If, however, through delay in treatment, the poison has once got into circulation no amount of brandy will either intoxicate him or save his life.
An odd character, rejoicing in the nick-name of Jack the Viper, is mentioned on page 763 of Hone's Table Book, 1829. In part the writer says:
Jack has traveled, seen the world, and profited by his travels; for he has learned to be contented.
He is not entirely idle, nor wholly industrious. If he can get a crust sufficient for the day, he leaves the evil of it should visit him. The first time I saw him was in the high noon of a scorching day, at an inn in Laytonstone. He came in while a sudden storm descended, and a rainbow of exquisite majesty vaulted the earth. Sitting down at a table, he beckoned the hostess for his beer, and conversed freely with his acquaintance. By his arch replies I found that I was in company with an original—a man that might stretch forth his arms in the wilderness without fear, and like Paul, grasp an adder without harm. He playfully entwined his fingers with their coils and curled crests, and played with their forked tongues. He had unbuttoned his waistcoat, and as cleverly as a fish-woman handles her eels, let out several snakes and adders, warmed by his breast, and spread them on the table. He took off his hat, and others of different sizes and lengths twisted before me; some of them, when he unbosomed his shirt, returned to the genial temperature of his skin; and some curled around the legs of the table, and others rose in a defensive attitude. He irritated and humored them, to express either pleasure or pain at his will. Some were purchased by individuals, and Jack pocketed his gains, observing, "A frog, or a mouse, occasionally, is enough for a snake's satisfaction."
The Naturalist's Cabinet says, that "In presence of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, while the philosophers were making elaborate dissertations on the danger of the poison of vipers, taken inwardly, a viper catcher, who happened to be present, requested that a quantity of it might be put into a vessel; and then, with the utmost confidence, and to the astonishment of the whole company, he drank it off. Everyone expected the man instantly to drop down dead; but they soon perceived their mistake, and found that, taken inwardly, the poison was as harmless as water."
William Oliver, a viper catcher at Bath, was the first who discovered that, by the application of olive oil, the bite of the viper is effectually cured. On the first of June, 1735, he suffered himself to be bitten by an old black viper; and after enduring the agonizing symptoms of approaching death, by using olive oil he perfectly recovered.
Vipers' flesh was formerly esteemed for its medicinal virtues, and its salt was thought to exceed every other animal product in giving vigor to a languid constitution.