Part 5

“What nonsense, grandpapa.” “I think it wicked, Harry,” said Joanna, “to flatter people so; it is that perhaps that makes great men so proud.” “There are but too many instances of its having this effect, my dear. The adulation which the potentates of the east receive from their slaves, fosters the pride too natural to the human heart, and leads to many oppressive and cruel acts; which might be much enlarged upon. But leaving this subject, let me remind you of one quality possessed by the elephant I had forgotten to name, that is, its sensibility to music, respecting which there are many anecdotes; one only I will relate. A band of music was placed in a gallery, which surrounded the upper part of the building in which two elephants were confined. Some provision they were fond of was given them, in order to engage their attention, and the musicians began to play. The sound no sooner struck their ears, than they ceased to eat, and looked about with surprise to discover from whence the sounds proceeded. At sight of the gallery, the orchestra, and the spectators assembled to view the effect of the experiment, they discovered considerable alarm, as though they imagined there was some design formed against them. But the harmony soon appeared to have lulled every fear; all other emotions becoming completely absorbed in their attention to it. Strains of a bold and wild expression excited in them turbulent agitations, expressive either of violent joy, or of rising fury. A soft air performed on the bassoon evidently soothed them to gentle and tender emotions. A gay and lively air moved them to demonstrations of sportive sensibility; whilst other variations of the harmony would not fail to produce corresponding changes in the motions of these susceptible animals.”

“I should suppose,” remarked Mrs. Monson, who had entered the room to hear this anecdote, “that the discovery of this susceptibility to ‘sweet sounds’ will be found useful in taming and regulating this wonderful animal. It is a remarkable circumstance that the most intelligent of the brute creation, such as the dog, the horse, &c. have this susceptibility to variation of sound. Our Fanchon is an instance of this. There are tones on the piano which seem to agonize her, and others from which she appears to feel as much pleasure.” “Oh yes, mamma, there is that little Polish dance we all like so, seems to please Fanchon as much as any of the party, and the Scotch air you and I love so dearly, seems to give her as much pain as if she were caught in a trap.”

All laughed, and agreed with this remark of Joanna’s, and said it was strange, passing strange! “But now we must have the book put aside, my dears,” said Mrs. Monson, “grandpapa has been very good to indulge you so long. Tea is now waiting, and as the evening has turned out so stormy, I shall keep your grandpapa with us to night; therefore to-morrow perhaps he will allow you another peep at his sketches.” The children assured that every due indulgence would be granted them, then vied with each other who should soonest be ready to conduct grandpapa into the drawing-room, and having taken a merry tea, they accompanied their mamma to the nursery, not however till they had returned to the parlour a short time, to bid their grandpapa good night, and to promise they would call him in the morning, as he had petitioned they might be allowed to breakfast with him.

CHAP. VII.

If there is happiness below, In such a home she’s shrin’d. The human heart can never know Enjoyment more refin’d, Than where that sacred band is twin’d Of filial and parental ties; That tender union all combin’d, Of nature’s holiest charities!

The morning was dry, but gloomy, and the fire cheerfully burning in the breakfast-room, when he was conducted thither by the delighted children, was no unpleasant object to Mr. Elmer; who both from his advanced age, and from the effects of a long residence in the torrid regions, was very susceptible of the autumnal changes of temperature. Warmth and cheerfulness soon however pervaded his frame and his spirits, in the family circle of his daughter, aided by that most social of meals the morning’s repast, which was protracted by the relation of many an anecdote, and the passing of many a joke. Reverting to the removal of the menagerie, Harry said “if we could have seen it again, grandpapa, should we have seen the great serpent that is named in the bill?” “The _boa constrictor_ do you mean?” “Yes, grandpapa. Joanna says she should not like to see it, it must be so frightful.” “Its magnitude makes it terrible, my dear; and indeed all the serpent tribe convey unpleasant ideas to the mind, but if we can divest ourselves of this feeling, they are beautiful to behold, from the vividness and variety of their colours. Your mention of this enormous serpent, my dear Harry, reminds me of a species I have frequently seen and admired in Asia; it is called the _boiga_, remarkably beautiful, combining the most lively colours of the richest gems with the splendour of burnished gold, mingled with dark brown shades, which contrast and display the more brilliant hues. The whole under surface of the head and body is of a silver white, separated from the changing blue of the back by a golden chain on each side the whole length of the body. This fine blue and silver, ornamented with gold, by no means however gives a full idea of the beautiful embroidery, as it may be termed, of the _boiga_. We must take it in all the reflected tints of silver colour, golden yellow, red, blue, green and black mingled, and ever changing in the most extraordinary and beautiful manner possible; so that when about to change its skin, it seems studded with a mingled assemblage of diamonds, emeralds, topazes, sapphires, and rubies, under a transparent veil of bluish chrystal. Thus in the rich and torrid plains of India, where the most splendid gems abound, nature seems to have chosen to reunite them all together with the noble metals to adorn the brilliant robe of the _boiga_. It is one of the most slender of serpents in proportion to its length, which but rather exceeds three feet, yet not more than a few lines in diameter. The tail is nearly as long as the body, and like a needle for fineness at the extremity, yet is somewhat flattened on all sides so as to be in some measure square. From the delicacy of its form, its movements are naturally agile, so that doubling itself up several times, it can spring to a considerable distance, with great swiftness. It can twine and twist itself most readily and nimbly around trees or other similar bodies, climbing or descending, or suspending itself, with the greatest facility. The _boiga_ feeds on small birds, which it swallows very easily, notwithstanding the small diameter of its body; as, like other serpents, it has the power of distending its throat and stomach. It conceals itself under the foliage of trees, on purpose to surprise the small birds, and is said to attract them by a peculiar kind of whistling, to which the term of song has been applied, certainly with great impropriety, as its long divided tongue and the conformation of its other organs of sound are not adapted to a melodious continuity of tones. Yet although nature has not ranked the _boiga_ amongst the songsters of the woods, it certainly seems to possess a more perfect instinct than other serpents, united to more agile movements and more beautiful exterior. In the isle of Borneo [_note 3_], the children play with the _boiga_ without the smallest dread; they carry it in their hands, and twist it about their necks, arms, and bodies in a thousand directions. It returns caress for caress with the Indian children, who fondle it apparently pleased to be intwined about their little hands and arms. The appearance of these nimble and innocent animals in the forests, is extremely beautiful, displaying their splendid colours and gliding swiftly from branch to branch, without possessing the smallest noxious quality. We may perhaps almost regret, that this species require a degree of heat greatly surpassing that of our regions, and that it can only subsist near the tropics, in Asia, Africa, and America. In fact, the _boiga_ seems not only to possess superior beauty, but may be said to personify the old maxim of combining the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness and gentleness of the dove.”

“Thank you, my dear grandpapa,” said the ever-ready spokesman, Harry, delighted to listen to these accounts of his venerable relative, who justly thought this oral instruction, in the hours of familiar intercourse, was infinitely more likely to impress the youthful mind, than mere reading-works of natural history; he therefore lost no opportunity of describing what he had seen or heard likely to interest the children.

“You have seen the serpents in India taught to dance, have you not, my dear father?” asked Mrs. Monson. “Serpents dance, mamma,” said Harry, laughing, “I should as soon have thought our favorite elephant could dance a reel.” “I have however,” said Mr. Elmer, “several times seen the serpents in India dance, and those too very different in disposition to the innocent _boiga_, for among the arts of the Indian jugglers and mountebanks, the most remarkable is, that they make one of the most venemous serpents, the _naja_, or hooded snake, called by the Portuguese _cobra de capello_, what they term dance. This serpent is most dangerous to man, infusing by his bite a deadly poison into the wound. Those who are so unfortunate as to be bitten by it, are immediately seized with fits and dreadful oppression, and expire in convulsions, unless speedy assistance is given; at least they hardly escape mortification in the injured part, the cure of which is very difficult, if antidotes are not instantly applied. This serpent, which belongs to the class of vipers, is from three to four feet in length, and of a middling thickness; its skin is scaly, beautifully striped, rough, dark brown, and the under part of its body white. When provoked, it has the singular property of puffing up the skin on both sides of the neck and extending it like a fillet, which on the reverse side shows like a pair of spectacles distinctly marked with a white colour, the circles of which are visible in the skin, which is spread round the head: thus with its body raised, and with extended jaws, displaying two rows of sharp teeth, it darts upon the enemy with surprising swiftness. That this formidable animal should be brought by singing to make, before spectators, movements resembling a dance, is almost incredible to those who only hear of it, and an astonishing, if not agreeable sight to those who witness it.”

“Oh pray tell us more about the serpent-dance, grandpapa, if it is not too much trouble,” said Harry, riding astride Mr. Elmer’s knee, and looking all eager curiosity. “It is all very natural, my boy, as you will find when I describe the dance. A juggler, or charmer of serpents as they call themselves, who intends to display his art, before he does any thing, takes a piece of a certain root, of which he always carries some in his girdle, in his right hand, closing it firmly; this root he declares, defends him against all attacks from serpents; so that he can do any thing with them without being endangered. After this, he throws the serpent on the ground, out of the vessel in which he carries it about, and gently irritates it with a stick, or with the clenched hand in which he holds the root. The provoked animal, resting upon the point of its tail, raises up its whole body, and darts upon the fist which he holds out to him, with flaming eyes and extended jaws, from which the hissing tongue is protruded.” “Oh how frightened I should be to see it,” said Joanna, timidly. “The charmer,” resumed Mr. Elmer, “now begins his song, at the same time moving his fist backwards and forwards, up and down, according to the time. The serpent, with its eye constantly directed towards the fist, imitates its movements with its head and whole body, so that without quitting its place, and resting on its tail, it extends its head two spans long, and moves to and fro, together with the body, in beautiful undulations, which is called dancing: this, however, does not last more than half a quarter of an hour; for exhausted by the erect position and movements to the musical time, the serpent throws itself upon the ground and escapes. To avoid this, the charmer breaks off his song a little before, when the serpent lays itself quietly upon the ground, and suffers itself to be brought back to its receptacle.” “Then, grandpapa, the root has a secret power, and the song does make the serpent harmless?” eagerly asked Harry. “These people certainly affirm so, my dear, for they say, the root causes the serpent to do no harm, and the singing makes it dance; but I do not believe that this is true in either case. According to the conviction produced on my mind, by accurate observation, I think it is fear by which these serpents are taught to follow the motions of the master’s hand, which is held before them, and are induced to the movements resembling those of a dance. I once saw a Hindoo instruct such a serpent in a few days to dance, by means of a stick and a bason which he held before it; and they are rendered harmless by extracting the poison from the bags at the root of the canine teeth of the upper jaw, which is done by provoking them, and making them bite a cloth or some other soft and warm body, by repeating which several days successively, the poison is extracted. Yet it appears from the testimony of many respectable travellers, that there are certainly many vegetable substances which afford security against the bite of a serpent. There is a herb in Abyssinia so efficacious against poison, that it is stated, the most venemous serpents immediately on touching it are as if stunned, and whoever eats the root of this herb may be for years amongst the most poisonous serpents without danger of injury.”

“Well, when I go to India,” said Harry, “I should like certainly to have a little of that herb, for I cannot say I like snakes and serpents, they seem so sly.” “Infinite wisdom has endued them with this subtilty, my dear,” remarked Mr. Elmer, “in obedience to that grand law of self-preservation, which pervades animated creation. Your observation of the _slyness_ of the serpent tribe may perhaps more peculiarly and justly be applied to that species of them called the _cerastes_, or horned snake. This serpent is emphatically called by the orientals the _lier in ambush_, as it lies in wait for passengers in the sand. From its lurking place, it treacherously bites the horses’ heels, so that the rider is thrown off backward, in consequence of the horses’ legs becoming almost immediately torpid, through the virulence and activity of the poison.”

“O dear, what a dreadful animal,” said Joanna. “It is so, my dear,” replied the good old man; “but yet the more we look into the works of the Almighty, the more reason shall we find to acknowledge that nothing is made in vain, and although there will be many mysteries beyond our finite capacities to understand, yet we may discern ample proofs of wisdom and goodness: we ought then to adore in silence, and wait in patience till the veil is further removed from the ways of our great and good Creator. Even this wily serpent, whose insidious attack seems so revolting to the generous nature of man, is endued with the instinctive power, in order to preserve its own existence. It is about thirteen or fourteen inches long, and has two small excrescences on the head, resembling barley-corns, and which the natives compare to horns. They are, however, properly feelers, which project when the serpent is covered in the sand; when it moves these feelers (as you doubtless have seen snails), the birds, who fancy they are worms, fall upon them; then the _cerastes_, which is roused by the slightest touch of its feelers, twines round the birds, and kills and devours them. It is however apparently a very malignant animal, for when it inclines to surprise any one who is too far from him, he creeps with his side towards the person and with his head averted, till judging his distance he turns round and springs upon him, fastening on the part next to him. It has the power of easily doing this, as it moves with great rapidity, and in all directions.” “Ah! how different from the innocent _boiga_,” said Joanna. “But,” added Mr. Elmer, “among the great number of serpents which abound in Hindostan, the _cobra minelle_ is the most dangerous, although the smallest. I will conclude our notices of this subtle tribe with the description of this fearful animal, whose bite occasions a speedy and painful death. They are of a brown colour, speckled with black and white, though at a distance not easily distinguished from the ground on which they move; happy however would it be for many who become their victims, if they confined themselves to it, but they enter the houses, and creep upon the beds and chairs. I once found four in my chamber.” “Well, I am happy I do not live in India, however,” said Joanna; “for all the jewels, and grandeur, and delightful fruits would be nothing to me from the fear I should continually have of the serpents.” “They are indeed not very pleasant inmates,” replied Mr. Elmer, “often being found in old walls. But what, Joanna, will you say of a serpent which discovered to a prince a great treasure; that was even more extraordinary than dancing, was it not?” “I think so, indeed, grandpapa, but how was it?”

“A prince of Persia, we are informed,” resumed Mr. Elmer, “was reduced to great difficulties from want of a due attention to his government and treasury (for you are ever to remember that difficulty and distress will inevitably follow neglect and carelessness). Walking disconsolately and anxiously one day, in an apartment of his palace, which had previously been the residence of his enemy and rival, he perceived a serpent putting its head out of a chink in the wall. Immediately seized with a superstitious fear, he summoned persons to search the wall and destroy the serpent. In opening the wall for this purpose, a secret place was discovered in which they did not find the serpent, but a vast treasure lodged in several coffers, in which _Jacout_, his enemy, had deposited his most precious effects.” “Is that story true, grandpapa?” asked Harry. “We are assured by the person that relates it of its veracity, my dear; I cannot vouch for it.” “And do you think, grandpapa, that they really do charm the serpents and make them harmless?” “Really, my dear boy, you have proposed a question I find it difficult to answer. Numerous testimonies of the fact might be collected, and truly there are some instances in which the powers of the persons professing the art appear extraordinary. A modern traveller in Africa (Brown) says, after expressing his surprise at those powers, ‘the serpent most common at Kahina is of the viper class, and undoubtedly poisonous. If one of them enter a house, the charmer is sent for, who uses a certain form of words. I have seen three serpents thus enticed out of a cabin of a ship lying near the shore. The operator handled them, and then put them in a bag. At other times I have seen the serpents twist round the bodies of these Psythi in all directions, without having had their fangs extracted or broken, and without receiving any injury from them.’ That they certainly are highly susceptible of musical sounds, I have many times had occasion to observe,” said Mr. Elmer, “and though I did not mean to enlarge further upon the subject, I will add one other little anecdote which occurs to my recollection. Among my drawings, I have that of the _cobra de capello_, or hooded snake, which danced for an hour on the table while I painted it; during which time I frequently handled it, to observe the beauty of the spots, and especially the spectacles on the hood, which I have described to you, not a moment doubting that its fangs had been previously extracted, consequently that I was caressing an innoxious animal. But the next morning a domestic, who was a Mahometan, came to me in great haste, and desired I would instantly retire and praise the Almighty for my good fortune. Not understanding his meaning, I told him I had already performed my devotions, and that my religion did not enjoin so many stated prayers as to the followers of his prophet. Mahomed then explained the reasons I had for the immediate act of praise, by informing me, that while he was purchasing some fruit in the bazar, he observed the man who had attended me on the preceding evening, entertaining the country people with his dancing snakes; they according to usual custom sat on the ground around him, when either from the music stopping too suddenly, or from some other cause irritating the vicious reptile I had so often handled, it darted at the throat of a young woman, and inflicted a wound of which she died in the short space of half an hour.” An exclamation of horror burst from the children at the relation of this fatal catastrophe. “Mahomed,” continued Mr. Elmer, “once more repeated his advice for praise and thanksgiving to Alla, and did not fail to record me in his calendar as a lucky man.” “Indeed, grandpapa, I think he was quite right, and I dare say you thought so too, and did not neglect his advice?” Mr. Elmer was on the point of assuring Harry that he was truly sensible of the providence which had saved him from this shocking and rapid death, when Mrs. Monson entered the room. “The morning having cleared so delightfully, my dear father,” she said to Mr. Elmer, “perhaps you would like to put in practice your intention of walking to dame Wilson’s, for some honey. Myself and the children will be happy to show you the way to our respectable old friend.” “I accept your offer, my dear,” said Mr. Elmer, “provided it is not too late, but (taking out his watch) I must be at C—— by three o’clock.” “Oh, grandpapa, there will be plenty of time,” said Harry, delighted that he should still enjoy his grandpapa’s company.

“Well, then,” said Mrs. Monson, “let us be quick, and prepare, while the sun shines so gloriously and the air is so clear and balmy. I will but tell Susan to follow us with the little ones, and we will set off directly;” and she hastened out of the room with all a mother’s, all a daughter’s feelings glowing at her heart and animating her countenance, while the good old man followed her with his eyes, into which started the tear of joyful affection.

CHAP. VIII.

The path-way from the rectory to the farm-house of John Wilson and his dame, was a pleasant and dry gravelly lane, on the skirts of a wood, which formed the back ground of Mr. Monson’s comfortable dwelling, the front windows of which commanded a delightful view of a richly-cultivated country, in which a high moral interest was given, by the many neat and pleasant cottages and small farm-houses that spotted the landscape.