Swiss Family Robinson - Johann David Wyss (poetry books to read txt) 📗

be very dangerous.’

 

`Excuse me, my dear wife,’ said I. `First of all, the boa is not

poisonous; and then, besides that, the flesh even of poisonous snakes

can be eaten without danger; as, for instance, the rattlesnake, from

which can be made a strong and nourishing soup, tasting very like good

chicken broth—of course, the cook must be told to throw away the head,

containing the deadly fangs.

 

`It is remarkable that pigs do not fear poisonous snakes, but can kill

and eat them without injury. An instance of this occurs to my memory. A

vessel on Lake Superior, in North America, was wrecked on a small

island abounding in rattlesnakes, and for that reason uninhabited.

 

`The vessel had a cargo of live pigs. The crew escaped to the mainland

in a boat, but the pigs had to be left for some time, till the owner

could return to fetch them, but with the small hope of finding many

left alive.

 

`To his surprise, the animals were not only alive, but remarkably fat

and flourishing, while not a single rattlesnake remained on the island.

The pigs had clearly eaten the serpents.’

 

`But might not some other cause have been assigned for their

disappearance?’ asked Ernest. `Suppose, for example, that a great

flight of secretary birds had arrived, they might have cleared the

island of rattlesnakes.’

 

`Oh, what is a secretary bird?’ interrupted Franz. `I thought a

secretary meant a man who wrote letters?’

 

`So it does, Franz, and the bird Ernest spoke of has curious long

feathers projecting from either side of its head, something like pens

stuck behind a man’s ear; hence its name.

 

`It is perfectly true that it lives on snakes, lizards, toads, and

frogs, but, Ernest, I cannot give up my pigs; for, in the first place,

the secretary bird is an inhabitant of Southern Africa, and is never

seen in North America, neither does it ever fly in a flock; still, so

ravenous is its appetite, that, no doubt, even one or two, had they by

some miracle found themselves on Lake Superior, would have been able to

give a very good account of the deadly reptiles, and at least shared in

the glory of their extermination.’

 

My wife having gone to prepare dinner, we continued talking as we

rested in the shade of some rocks, near the serpent, for a

considerable time. The open air was welcome to us after our long

imprisonment; and we were, besides, desirous to drive off any birds of

prey who might be attracted to the carcase, which we wished to preserve

entire.

 

My boys questioned me closely on the subject of serpents in general;

and I described to them the action of the poison fangs; how they folded

back on the sides of the upper jaw, and how the poison-secreting

glands, and reservoir are found at the back and sides of the head,

giving to the venomous serpents that peculiar width of head which is so

unfailing a characteristic.

 

`The fangs are hollow,’ said I, `and when the creature bites, the

pressure forces down a tiny drop of the liquid venom, which enters the

wound and, through the veins, quickly spreads over the entire system.

Sometimes, if taken in time, cures are effected, but in most cases the

bite of a serpent is followed by speedy death.’

 

The children were much interested in my account of the snake-charmers

of India, how they fearlessly handle the most deadly of the serpent

tribe, the Cobra di Capello-or hooded cobra-, cause them to move in

time to musical sounds from a small pipe, twine the reptile about their

arms and bare necks, and then, to prove that the poison fangs have not

been removed, make them bite a fowl, which soon dies from the effects.’

 

`How is it possible to extract the fangs, father?’ asked Ernest.

 

`No instrument is required,’ replied I; `I have read the account

written by a gentleman in India, who saw a snake-charmer catch a large

cobra in the jungle, and for the purpose of removing the fangs, held up

a cloth at which the irritated snake flew, and the fangs being caught

in it, the man seized the reptile by the throat, extracted them, and

then squeezed out the poison, a clear oily substance, upon a leaf.’

 

`What does the rattle of the rattlesnake look like? And how does it

sound?’

 

`At the tip of the tail are a number of curious, loose, horny

structures formed of the same substance as the scales. A very good idea

of the structure of the rattle may be formed by slipping a number of

thimbles loosely into each other.

 

`The rattlesnake lies coiled with its head flat, and the tip of its

tail elevated; when alarmed or irritated it gives a quivering movement

to the tail which causes the joints of the rattle to shake against each

other with a peculiar sound, not easily described; all animals, even

horses newly brought from Europe, tremble at this noise, and try to

escape.’

 

`What is the best thing to be done for the bite of a serpent?’

inquired Fritz.

 

`Remedies are very various, very uncertain, and differ with the

species inflicting the bite.

 

`Suction, ammonia, oil, the use of the knife, application of fresh

mold, lunar caustic, leaves of certain plants, all these and more are

mentioned. There is a creeping plant, called Aristolodochia indica, the

leaves of which have in repeated instances done wonders for fearful

bites. It is found in many parts of the world but most plentifully in

the hotter regions .

 

`A mode of cure adopted by the natives of India, Ceylon, and parts of

Africa, is by the application of a remarkable object called

snake-stone. These are described as flattish, something like half an

almond with squared ends, rather light, bearing a very high polish, and

of an intense jetty black.

 

`On being bitten by a cobra, the sufferer applies one of these stones

to each puncture, where they adhere strongly for a time, five or six

minutes being about the average. They seem to absorb the blood as it

flows from the wound, and, at the last fall off, when the danger is

considered to be over.

 

`But now we must leave this fertile subject of discussion, and I can

only say I sincerely trust we may never have cause to resume it from

the appearance of another serpent here of any sort, size, or

description.

 

`But come, Ernest, can you not give us an epitaph for our unfortunate

friend the donkey? We must afford him more honourable sepulture than he

enjoys at present, when we proceed, as we speedily must, to disembowel

his murderer.’

 

Ernest took the matter quite seriously, and planting his elbows on his

knees, he bent his thoughtful brow in his hands, and remained wrapt in

poetic meditation for about two minutes.

 

`I have it!’ cried he. `But perhaps you will all laugh at me?’

 

`No, no, don’t be shy, old fellow; spit it out!’ and thus encouraged by

his brother, Ernest, with the blush of a modest author, began:

 

`Beneath this stone poor Grizzle’s bones are laid,

`A faithful ass he was, and loved by all.

`At length, his master’s voice he disobeyed,

`And thereby came his melancholy fall.

 

`A monstrous serpent, springing from the grass,

`Seized, crushed, and swallowed him before our eyes.

`But we, though yet we mourn our honest ass,

`Are grateful; for he thereby saved the lives

`Of all the human beings on this shore—

`A father, mother, and their children four.’

 

`Hurrah for the epitaph! Well done, Ernest!’ resounded on all sides,

and taking out a large red pencil I used for marking wood, the lines

were forthwith inscribed on a great flat stone, being, as I told the

boy, the very best poetry that had ever been written on our coast.

 

We then had dinner, and afterwards went to work with the serpent. The

first operation was to recover the mangled remains of the ass, which

being effected, he was buried in the soft marshy ground close by, and

the hole filled up with fragments of rock.

 

Then we yoked Storm and Grumble to the serpent, and dragged it to a

convenient distance from Rockburg, where the process of skinning,

stuffing, and sewing up again afforded occupation of the deepest

interest to the boys for several days.

 

We took great pains to coil it round a pole in the museum, arranging

the head with the jaws wide open, so as to look as alarming as

possible, and contriving to make eyes and tongue which were quite

sufficient to represent nature; in fact, our dogs never passed the

monster without growling, and must have wondered at our taste in

keeping such a pet.

 

Over the entrance leading to the museum and library were inscribed

these words:

 

NO ADMITTANCE FOR ASSES

 

The double meaning of this sentence pleased us all immensely.