and apparatus complete; thus proving beyond a doubt that it was not a trained or tame reptile he had been treating like a plaything.

Doubts still arose in my mind, however, about the genuineness of the performance, for I could not bring myself to believe that a man would willingly place himself in such close proximity to certain death.

A fowl was now obtained and placed about a foot from the reptile, which was again set free. With the same movements it raised itself a foot from the ground, spread out its hood, and with a loud hiss, apparently of satisfaction, darted upon and seized the fowl by the back of its neck. Hanging there for a few seconds, it let go its hold, and the man at the same instant seized it, as he had formerly done, by the head. The fowl almost instantaneously became drowsy, its head falling forwards, and the beak striking with considerable force into the ground. This convulsive movement lasted ten seconds, and then the bird lay down as if completely comatose and powerless. In fifteen seconds it gave a sudden start, and fell back quite dead. This was the first time I witnessed death from a snake-bite, and it is unquestionably a sudden, quiet, and overpowering poison.

As no deception could have been practised in this instance, I was most anxious to see the reptile killed; but the charmer said he would not have it destroyed; that if it were injured the power he had over the snakes would be interfered with, and the next one would no doubt bite and kill him. He accounted for his easy capture by saying that this was a great holiday for the snakes, and they had been enjoying themselves. This one,' said he, 'is not living in this house.

He has come from his own home visiting, and has lost his way. On this account he got down a wrong hole, and I was enabled to pull him out. Nasty neighbours and abominable visitors, these cobras! I will take this snake home and feed him and make him tame.'

However, we insisted upon seeing him made harmless, or comparatively so, and directed the man to remove his fangs. This he agreed to do, and performed it in this manner: a piece of wood was cut about an inch square, and held by the charmer to the head of the snake. The reptile seized it as he had done the fowl, and with a dexterous twist of his hand the most primitive performance of dentistry was accomplished. The four fangs sticking into the wood were extracted by the roots and given to me. I have them now, and look upon them as more

suicidally' pleasant than a pint of prussic acid or a cask of white

arsenic.

Another fowl was now brought and attacked by the snake as before, but without any effect; it shook itself, rustled its feathers, and walked away consequentially. It is alive still, unless some enterprising culinary agent has converted it into curry' or 'devil.'

So it was proved beyond any doubt that an Indian snake-charmer was not a 'humbug and swindler,' as many suppose, but a strongminded, quick-eyed, active, courageous man. The cool determination and heroism of the charmer in the present instance was rewarded by the sum of two rupees (48.); and he left the compound with an extra snake in his basket, thankful to 'his preservers and feeders of his children,' as he styled us, and to whom, he said, he owed his life and his existence.

J. J. P.

is so remarkable, that the author vindicates the probability of his story by saying that 'he pledges himself that, from his own limited experience, he could name no less than three adventuresses who severally victimized gentlemen of good standing and worldly experience by stories yet more easy to detect.

Having reason to believe-especially from some remarks in the press while reviewing this popular story-that some curiosity has been excited on the subject, we are happy in being favoured with the following account of the three 'facts stranger than fiction' to which the novelist referred.

I. A friend of the author one day told him that an extraordinary adventure in real life, with which members of his family had been nearly connected, happened in the manner following:

One day, about twenty years since, at the end of the session, as Mr. Salter, an Irish Member of Parliament, was returning home by the London and North-Western Railway, he became much interested in the conversation of two of his fellow travellers-a young officer with a lady companion. When the train stopped at the Wolverhampton station, the officer came up to Mr. Salter and said, that, however strange it might seem, he was encouraged by his profession to reveal to Mr. Salter circumstances personal to himself and lady friend. The fact was, they were both on their way to Gretna Green: the lady was flying from a brute of a father who, because she would not be persuaded to sacrifice herself and fortune to some very objectionable suitor, had used her so ill that she did not dare to return to his house again; while the young officer was fired with love ennobled by pity, at once to rescue a charming girl from the extremity of misery, and (of course he promised himself) to raise her to the serenest altitudes of mortal bliss and joy without end.

'Well, well!' said the M.P., 'no man alive is more ready than I am to help a fine fellow in a strait like this. But-but-you know what

the world is made of; you know business is business: there are some ordinary forms and precautions in use among men of the world, and therefore, not that I really suspect anything for a moment, all is so simple and artless; but the long and short of the matter is, I must just, pro formâ, have the satisfaction of hearing the sad case you relate, and asking a few questions of the lady also.

The story of the fugitive lady seemed to the openhearted M.P. as simple, as ingenuous, and as transparent as that of the gentleman; and -as a striking corroboration of the description which the officer had given of the suddenness of the determination to elope-the lady had no luggage of any kind! Young runaway ladies do usually secrete a bundle by help of the waitingmaid, but one pocket-handkerchief and one parasol formed the complete inventory of the lady's superfluities. The officer related that he met the lady of his love that very morning in Rotten Row, attended, as usual, by her maid, and from painful information from that maid received, he had hurried the ill-used lady all in a moment to fly from the cruel designs of her most unnatural father on the wings of love and-the London and North-Western Railway.

The Irish gentleman was quite excited by the tale. He was also, like his countrymen in general, delighted at the dash of adventure and the romance of the movement. What Irishman's sympathies ever failed to take part with those who show themselves superior to the stupidities of order or of law?

My purse,' he said, 'is at your command, but unfortunately, at the present moment, there is nothing in it. All I can say is, come over with me to Dublin, I then can get at my money. This unavoidable delay, however provoking, will, at all events, baffle all imaginable pursuit, and Gretna will be reached without further impediments of any kind.'

The officer and lady accepted the kind proposal, accompanied this friend in need to Dublin, and received cash quite equal to their necessities.

The good friend's wife also volunteered her assistance, and lent articles from her wardrobe to obviate the inconveniences of so precipitate an expedition.

As soon as we had heard the story so far, we naturally anticipated that the end of the matter would prove to be, that the Irish gentleman never saw his money, and that his good lady's wardrobe remained minus all the garments so kindly supplied. But not so. The money was punctually repaid and the wearing apparel was as honestly returned. That there was a dupo in the case was true enough; but that dupe was the officer, not the friend.

For the officer conducted his bride to his father's house; and as soon as time had been allowed for some kind of overtures to the relatives of the runaway lady, to appear only reasonable, all parties were surprised at observing that there was a continued refusal on the part of the lady, who every day found some fresh reason for delay when offers of intercession were forced upon her. At last, some one remarked that never once, in the morning's distribution of the contents of the letterbag, had there been a single epistle for the bride-albeit, a lady of fortune with a wide circle of family connections. Surely all her relatives and friends could not be so implacably offended; and if so, displeasure finds its vent in words as often as in emphatic silence.'

When suspicion is once excited, the days of imposture are few indeed, and the bride was soon compelled to confess that she had no father, cruel or kind; that she had no fortune, and-it was readily concluded-she had no character; and her pretended lady's maid' as little as herself.

And what became of the unhappy officer who had linked himself to an abandoned woman for a life?

Most fortunately, a rigid investigation of her antecedents elicited that she had another husband living; so the second marriage was void; and the threat of a prosecution for bigamy gave the family little trouble for the future.

II. The second case of successful imposture to which the author of 'Dragons' Teeth' alludes, he has related thus:

Some years since, while living in the city of Chester, I became acquainted with a Mr. Buller (this name will serve), an Oxonian, about three-and-twenty years of age-a member of an excellent family, who was reading for holy orders. He was a man of excellent character, of some accomplishments, especially music, and was generally much esteemed as a man highly honourable and utterly incapable of deceit by all who knew him. After about a year, he went to visit his father and mother-persons of middle age and of ordinary intelligence and worldly experience; and during his absence, a report reached Chester that Mr. Buller was engaged to be married to a ward in Chancery, a lady of noble family and of immense estates in England, with chateaux and wide domains in Italy also.

In course of time, Mr. Buller rejoined his Chester relatives, but only for a visit of a few days, and brought his intended wife and introduced her to my family as among the most intimate of his friends in that city. The morning after, he visited us alone, was very communicative, and related incidents in the lady's history more like a romance than sober truth. However, the more strange this adventure, we felt, the more impossible that he could be deceived; for, as to staring improbabilities, where we believe the narrator, we naturally think, no one would dare to mention them if not true. Still, everything seemed to set at defiance the experience of our lives as also the evidence of all our senses.

1. The lady, he said, wanted a few weeks of being of age, although she seemed to us five-and-thirty at least; but she had survived an illness so remarkable, and had also an accident which resulted in diminishing the bloom of her youthful features.

2. The lady was an accomplished musician; her singing and playing were the envy of professors; but— just at that time there was a reason that she could not give even her intended husband a sample of either.

3. She was an excellent linguist, but-when some ladies from the Continent addressed her in French as naturally as they would speak English, she drew back at once; she did not deem it consistent with the etiquette of high life to parade her accomplishments by talking French in English society.

In short, a mystery hung over everything if Lord Eldon (he was then Chancellor) knew-for so she persuaded Mr. Buller—what he was doing with so wealthy a ward, above all, if he dared to marry her before she was of age, he would be imprisoned for contempt of court.

It so happened that the Marchioness of Conyngham was at that time announced as spending a few days in Chester; whereupon the lady exclaimed at once, I must avoid all the leading streets, for if the marchioness only catches a glimpse of me, she will tell Lord Eldon to a certainty and we shall be undone.' The end of all was, Mr. Buller was tricked into marrying a woman whose connection with the peerage and extensive estates will best be understood if we say she had once been a servant in the family of Lord

This adventuress deceived not only one young man but all his family, carrying on the imposition over a period of many months. She was even working coronets on a baby's robe when the imposture was discovered!

Mr. Buller and his family were as select in their society as most country gentlemen, so it has always been unintelligible how this woman ever attained a position even to attempt so audacious a deception.

III. The third instance of marrying under a mistake, which the author of 'Dragons' Teeth' had in view, happened about twenty years since in the west of England, and at that time supplied points for repeated application to the law courts for setting aside the marriage, but we believe without effect. This case may be more briefly told, though it resembles the plot of the novel aforesaid more nearly than either of the other in stances.

A merchant of middle age had, unhappily for him, provoked either

the mirth or the malice of a female relative-Mrs. Clyde-who determined to practise on his credulity by taking advantage at the same time both of his vanity and his greed.

It was well known to the merchant that an heiress of large estate was living in Steep Street. With this lady, Mrs. Clyde pretended to have become acquainted; and, being quite her confidante in affairs of the heart, gladdened the ears of the merchant with the news that the heiress had set her affections upon him, fired by his mere looks-a case of love at the very first sight.

The only personal communication the bridegroom-elect could be allowed, was on one occasion to kiss the hand of the lady through a halfopened door.

The connection between Mrs. Clyde and the heiress, who in reality was quite a stranger to her pretended confidante and go-between, was established to the satisfaction of the gentleman in a very ingenious way. While Mrs. Clyde and the gentleman were passing the lady's house on one occasion, the lady was observed at the window. In an instant Mrs. Clyde said she would just run in and bring him a few words in the lady's handwriting. Accordingly, she knocked at the door, ran in past the servant, as if quite intimate, saying, 'Your mistress, I see, is in the drawing-room,' pretended that she and the clergyman of the parish were collecting for coals for the poor, and with an apology for the sudden intrusion, said that the loan of pen and ink for one moment would oblige. Pen and ink were produced, when Mrs. Clyde's hand, she said, was too numbed, and 'would you be so kind as to write these few words for me?' From that hour all chance of suspicion was obviated, in this vital point, at all events.

The end of all was that the merchant met at the altar, and plighted his troth, for better, for worse, till death us do part,' to a bride enveloped in a thick veil, which veil was no sooner thrown off than it revealed the well-known features of -a fishwoman!