the art of bewitching, enchantment, an unseen inexplicable influence. Under the title SERPENS (Encycl. n° 22.) we have mentioned several instances of the fascinating power of the rattlesnake, which were related by men of character, and certainly gained some degree of credit among men of science. In Vaillant's New Travels into the Interior Parts of Africa, an account is given of similar instances of fascination by African servants, some of them witnessed by himself, and others reported to him by men of veracity.

On the confines of the European colony, at a place called Swart-land, our traveller saw a thrice on the branch of a tree, tremble as if in convulsions, whilst it uttered the most piercing cries of distress. Closer attention led him to discover upon the next branch of the same tree a large serpent, that, with stretched-out neck, and fiery eyes, though perfectly still, was gazing on the poor animal. He shot the serpent; but, in the meantime, the bird had died. Having measured the distance between the place where the thrice was seen in convulsions and that occupied by the serpent when it was shot, he found it to be three feet and a half; which convinced him and his attendants that the bird had not died either from the bite or the poison of its enemy. Indeed he stripped it before the whole company, and made them observe that it was untouched, and had not received the slightest wound.—In another district of Africa, during the course of the same travels, he saw saw a small mouse die in convulsions, occasioned by the fascinating power of a serpent, at the distance of two yards from it; and when he consulted his Hottentots upon this incident, they expressed, he says, no sort of astonishment, but assured him that the serpent had the faculty of attracting and fascinating such animals as it wished to devour.

We have already had occasion to remark how regardless this author is of inconsistencies in his narrative; and we perceive something like an inconsistency in the narratives before us. Though his Hottentots expressed no surprise at the fascination of the mouse, and declared that nothing was more common, he says expressly, that to those who witnessed the fascination of the fliskle, the fact appeared so extraordinary, that they could hardly believe it, even after they had seen it.

The most wonderful instance of fascination which we have anywhere met with, was that of a Captain in the Dutch service at the Cape, who, after assuring our traveller that it is an event which happens very frequently, proceeded thus: "My testimony ought to have the more weight, as I had once nearly become myself a victim to this fascination. While in garrison at Ceylon, and amusing myself, like you, in hunting in a marsh, I was, in the course of my sport, suddenly seized with a convulsive and involuntary trembling, different from any thing I had ever experienced, and at the same time was strongly attracted, and in spite of myself, to a particular spot of the marsh. Directing my eyes to this spot, I beheld, with feelings of horror, a serpent of an enormous size, whose look instantly pierced me. Having, however, not yet lost all power of motion, I embraced the opportunity before it was too late, and saluted the reptile with the contents of my fustee. The report was a talisman that broke the charm. All at once, as if by a miracle, my convulsion ceased; I felt myself able to fly; and the only inconvenience of this extraordinary adventure was a cold sweat, which was doubtless the effect of my fear, and of the violent agitation my senses had undergone."

This instance of fascination differs in one very material circumstance from the two somewhat similar instances mentioned in the Encyclopaedia. In both these, the eyes of the persons fascinated were fixed on the eyes of the snake; but here the Dutch Captain was strongly attracted towards the serpent before he saw, or even suspected that so formidable an enemy was in his neighbourhood. If the story therefore be true, the effect which he describes could not possibly have been the effect of fear, but of some unseen influence on his whole nervous system.

The subject has of late attracted the attention of men of science, whose local situation gives them an opportunity of making experiments upon different serpents, with a view to ascertain whether they really possess or not this most unaccountable of all powers. In the year 1796 was printed at Philadelphia a Memoir concerning the Fascinating Faculty which has been ascribed to the Rattle-snake, and other American Serpents, by Benjamin Smith Barton, M.D. Professor of natural history and botany in the university of Pennsylvania. In this memoir, the manner in which the fascinating power is supposed to be exerted is thus stated by the ingenious professor:

"The snake, whatever its species may be, lying at the bottom of the tree or bush upon which the bird or squirrel sits, fixes its eyes upon the animal it designs to fascinate or enchant. No sooner is this done, than the unhappy animal is unable to make its escape. It now begins to utter a most piteous cry, which is well known by those who hear it, and understand the whole machinery of the business, to be the cry of a creature enchanted. If it is a squirrel, it runs up the tree for a short distance, comes down again, then runs up, and, finally, comes lower down. On that occasion (says an honest, but rather credulous writer*), it has been observed, that the squirrel always goes down more than it goes up." Peter Kolbe.

The snake still continues at the root of the tree, with its eyes fixed on the squirrel, with which its attention is entirely taken up, that a person accidentally approaching, may make a considerable noise without the snake's so much as turning about. The squirrel, as before mentioned, comes always lower, and at last leaps down to the snake, whose mouth is already wide open for its reception. The poor little animal then, with a piteous cry, runs into the snake's jaws, and is swallowed at once, if it be not too big; but if its size will not allow it to be swallowed at once, the snake licks it several times with its tongue, and smoothens it, and by that means makes it fit for swallowing."

From Dr Barton's memoir, it appears that the North American Indians are by no means of one opinion respecting the fascinating power of the rattle-snake. Some intelligent friends of his, well acquainted with the manners, religious opinions, and superstitious prejudices of those people, informed him, that though they had often heard the Indians speak of the ingenuity of these reptiles in catching birds, squirrels, &c., they did not recollect having ever heard them say that snakes charm birds. On the other hand, however, a Mohican Indian told the Doctor himself, that the Indians are of opinion, that the rattle-snake can charm, or bewitch, squirrels and birds, and that it does this with its rattle, which it shakes, thereby inviting the animals to descend from the trees, after which they are easily caught. According to this Indian, his countrymen do not think that the snake, in any manner, accomplishes the business with its eyes. A Choktah Indian assured the Doctor, that the rattle-snake does charm birds, &c.; but he was honest enough to confess, that he did not know in what manner it does it. The interpreter, through whom the conversation was carried on with this Indian, said that the snake charms by means of its rattle.

This opinion of the interpreter was the opinion of Dr Mead. That eminent naturalist, controversialist, about fifty years ago, the common opinion, that Providence has furnished the rattle-snake with its rattle to give warning to travellers, was the first who asserted that this singular appendage is given to the animal to terrify squirrels and small birds, which are then so stupefied by the sight of so formidable an enemy, that at length they drop down, and become its prey; and that this is what the Indians call fascination. The same opinion has been adopted by professor Blumenbach of Gottingen, who, in his Manual of Natural History, thus expresses himself on this curious subject:

"That squirrels, small birds, &c. fall down spontaneously from trees into the mouth of the rattle-snake,"

lying lying below them, is an undisputed fact; and is the less surprising, as the like phenomena have been remarked in regard to other snakes, and also toads, hawks, and cats; all of which, in certain circumstances, as appears, have the power of drawing towards them small animals, merely by fixing their eyes steadfastly on them. In regard to the rattle-snake, this effect is produced by the rattle in its tail, the hissing noise of which makes squirrels, &c., whether through curiosity, mistake, or terror, seem to approach the animal as it were spontaneously. At any rate, I know, from the information of intelligent eye-witnesses, that it is a common stratagem of the young savages in America to conceal themselves in the bushes, where they imitate the hissing noise of the rattle-snake, and by these means attract squirrels, which they then enable to catch."

To this opinion Dr Barton opposes an infallible objection. It is, that this fascinating power is by no means peculiar to the rattle-snake. With regard to the stratagem of the savages, he thinks that Dr Blumenbach has been imposed upon; as neither he, nor any other person of whom he made the inquiry, ever heard of such a stratagem. The young Indians, he says, place a reed crook-wise in their mouth, and by a tremulous motion of the lips, imitate the cry of young birds; by which means they entice the old ones, so that they can easily shoot them: And this practice may have given rise to the story of their imitating the hissing noise of the rattle-snake.

Some have supposed that serpents, under certain circumstances, emit from their bodies a flutting vapour; and that it is this vapour which produces the effect called fascination. But against this opinion Dr Barton alleges the following arguments: "I know, indeed (says he), that in some of the larger species of serpents, inhabiting South America and other countries, there is evolved in the stomach, during the long and tedious process of digestion in these animals, a vapour or gas, whose odour is intensely fetid. I have not, however, found that this is the case with the rattle-snake, and other North American serpents, that I have examined. But my own observations on this head have not been very minute. I have made inquiry of some persons (whose prejudices against the serpent tribe are not so powerful as my own), who are not afraid to put the heads and necks of the black snake, and other serpents that are destitute of venomous fangs, into their mouths, and have been informed, that they never perceived any disagreeable smell to proceed from the breath of these animals. I have been present at the opening of a box which contained a number of living serpents, and although the box had been so close as to admit but a very small quantity of fresh air, although the observation was made in a small warm room, I did not perceive any peculiarly disagreeable effluvium to arise from the bodies of these animals. I am, moreover, informed by a member of this society*, who has, for a considerable time, had a rattle-snake under his immediate care, that he has not observed that any disagreeable vapour proceeds from this reptile. On the other hand, however, it is affected by some creditable persons of my acquaintance, that a most offensive odour, similar to that of flesh in the last stage of putrefaction, is continually emanating from every part of the rattle-snake, and some other species of serpents. This odour extends, under certain circumstances, to a considerable distance from the body of the animal. Mr William Bartram assures me, that he has observed 'horses to be sensible of, and greatly agitated by it, at the distance of forty or fifty yards from the snake. They shewed (he says) their abhorrence by snorting, winnowing, and flaring from the road, endeavouring to throw their riders, in order to make their escape.' This fact, related by a man of rigid veracity, is extremely curious; and, in an especial manner, deserves the attention of those writers who imagine that this fetid emanation from serpents is capable of affecting birds, at small distances, with a kind of apathy. It even gives some colour of probability to the story related by Metrodorus, and preserved in the Natural History of Pliny."

Some experiments, however, which were made in Philadelphia a little before the Doctor composed his memoir, seem to have been decisive not only as to the fact, but as to every thing which resembles fascination in the rattle-snake. Birds which were put into a cage which contained a rattle-snake, flew or ran from the reptile, as though they were sensible of the danger to which they were exposed. The snake made many attempts to catch the birds, but could seldom succeed. When a dead bird was thrown into the cage, the snake devoured it immediately. He soon caught and devoured a living mole, an animal much more sluggish than the bird. Dr Barton himself saw a snow-bird (see Encyclop.) in a cage with a large rattle-snake. The little animal had been thus imprisoned for several hours when he first saw it, but it exhibited no signs of fear. It hopped about from the floor of the cage to its roof, and frequently perched on the snake's back. Its chirp was nowise tremulous, but perfectly natural. It ate the seeds which were put into the cage; and by its whole actions most evidently demonstrated that its situation was not uneasy.

Having thus disposed of the doctrines of some of his predecessors, Dr Barton proceeds to say: "The result of not a little attention to the subject has taught me, that there is but one wonder in the universe—the wonder that the story should ever have been believed by a man of understanding and of observation." Fascination, we are informed, is almost entirely limited to birds that build low, and "in almost every instance, I found that the supposed fascinating faculty of the serpent was exerted upon the birds at the particular season of their laying their eggs, of their hatching, or of their rearing their young, still tender and defenceless. I now began to suspect, that the cries and tears of birds supposed to be fascinated originated in an endeavour to protect their nest or young. My inquiries have convinced me that this is the case."

The rattle-snake, which is the laziest of all the serpent tribe, never moves in a spiral manner or climbs up trees; but the black-snake, and some other species of the genus coluber, do. When impelled by hunger, and incapable of satisfying it by the capture of animals on the ground, they begin to glide up trees or bushes upon which a bird has its nest. The bird is not ignorant of the serpent's object. She leaves her nest, whether it contains eggs or young ones, and endeavours to oppose the reptile's progress. In doing this, she is actuated by the strength of her instinctive attachment to her eggs, or of affection to her young. Her cry is melancholy, her motions... motions are tremulous. She exposes herself to the most imminent danger. Sometimes she approaches so near the reptile that he seizes her as his prey. But this is far from being universally the case. Often she compels the serpent to leave the tree, and then returns to her nest.

It is a well-known fact, that among some species of birds, the female, at a certain period, is accustomed to compel the young ones to leave the nest; that is, when the young have acquired so much strength that they are no longer entitled to all her care. But they still claim some of her care. Their flights are awkward, and soon broken by fatigue. They fall to the ground, where they are frequently exposed to the attacks of the serpent, which attempts to devour them. In this situation of affairs, the mother will place herself upon a branch of a tree or bush, in the vicinity of the serpent. She will dart upon the serpent, in order to prevent the destruction of her young; but fear, the instinct of self-preservation, will compel her to retire. She leaves the serpent, however, but for a short time, and then returns again. Oftentimes she prevents the destruction of her young, attacking the snake with her wings, her beak, or her claws. Should the reptile succeed in capturing the young, the mother is exposed to less danger. For, whilst engaged in swallowing them, he has neither inclination nor power to seize upon the old one. But the appetite of the serpent-tribe is great; the capacity of their stomachs is not less so. The danger of the mother is at hand when the young are devoured. The snake seizes upon her; and this is the catastrophe, which crowns the tale of fascination!