in to feel for it, but touched instead, a rattle- drunk very largely of whisky; but in their cases snake. He was bitten at the bottom of the was tried in addition the older-fashioned 'chickenpalm of his hand, just where it joins the wrist. cure.' In this plan the breast of a chicken is cut He died from the bite in about twelve days open, about skin deep, the feathers being first the only fatal case I know out of about thirty-plucked off: the cut is just deep enough to make and he was the only man out of the thirty who blood follow all along the incision, and the cut is had surgical advice. As a rule, doctors would held against the snake-bite. It is asserted that the rather not attend snake-wounds; they can only chicken-flesh has a power of withdrawing the rely on one remedy, which is not ranked as a drug. venom, and, although the fowl droops, it seldom Some fifteen of the cases referred to fell within the dies. Close to the place where these men were immediate experience of one friend, whose pursuits bitten, a third man suffered; he was making a for some years exposed him and his companions to hedge or fence, and trod on a snake; he was bitten the attacks of these reptiles; and, although they in the foot, but recovered by the use of whisky. were in wild, lonely spots, where assistance of any Nearly all snake-bites are in the leg or arm, for kind, or aid beyond themselves, could not be obtained, very obvious reasons; horses or cattle are generally yet, as I have said, none of them died. The remedy bitten in the jaw, as they disturb the reptiles by in every case was the same. Before mentioning it, their feeding. A horse, mule, or ox generally dies I would say that there must be remedies for all in one, two, or three days. The Indians dread the these bites, remedies not only existent, but known, or serpents very much, on account of their so often how could the serpent-charmers manage as they do? losing their horses by them. Speaking only for myself, I would say it seems the height of bigotry to fall back on incredulity and prejudice, and to suppose that because the Eastern nations have no steam-engines, no electric telegraphs, no ironclad ships, and the like, that therefore they cannot handle poisonous snakes; for that is what our logic amounts to. The very snake that killed the keeper was exhibited by a native who came over with it. But to my rattlesnake remedy -well, it is simply whisky, and it is a specific. It seems an absolutely certain cure, and acts at any time after the bite, so long as the patient has sense to swallow it. I know of one case of rattlesnake bite where four hours elapsed before spirits could be procured, yet the patient lived. The poison of a snake, by some mysterious potency, causes the blood to coagulate, and, we may say, putrefy, then the sufferer dies. All remedies seem to have failed because they do not act upon the blood: now, whisky does so act. A quart of whisky-neat, of course-is about the quantity usually taken, but the cure is effected directly the patient gets drunk; so long as the venom has the mastery, no amount of whisky will affect the head, but directly it is conquered, the patient shews signs of intoxication, and is rescued. I remember one very curious case, where a woman was gathering strawberries, and was crawling along on her hands and knees to do so, when she was bitten in the lower part of the calf of the leg by a serpent. She saw the creature, and recognised it as the large yellow rattlesnake, common in Iowa, one of the most dreaded of the tribe. She was more than half a mile from home, but she did not lose her presence of mind; she squeezed the puncture with all her force, and was glad to find that a greenish drop exuded besides the blood; then she washed it well at the brook, made a sort of plaster of clay, and tied it on, then walked home. A quart of whisky was sent for, greater part of which she drank, and she never felt the slightest inconvenience from the bite. A very strange coincidence in the way of snake-bites was that of two brothers, working on different farms, but each bitten by rattlesnakes on the same day. One was injured close to his own door: he trod on a snake in the grass, and was struck in the ankle, a very dangerous place, on account of the numerous small veins there. The other brother was reaping, or rather winding, and caught hold of a snake, which bit him in the wrist. Both recovered, having The When we speak of dreading venomous reptiles, we should explain that, horrible and loathsome as the rattlesnake is, and though, on the whole, he is, of course, more feared than any other creature in America, yet, on the western frontier, he is not dreaded so much as the tarantula spider. This is an enemy against whom none can guard, and for whose bite no remedy has been found. Such alarm do they inspire, that I have known a large party of men, who had camped out' all through a snakecountry, and through the midst of hostile Indians, driven from a desirable position by discovering that tarantulas infested the spot. The tarantula spider commonly grows to the size of half a large walnut, being thick and rounded something like the half-shell, and has eight long legs, two at each corner. It is covered with long hair, and is, indeed, as ugly and disgusting a reptile or insect, or whatever it is, as can easily be seen. people who dwell where these spiders most abound, declare most stoutly that they attain a size equal to the clenched fist of a man, but I think this is a great exaggeration; at anyrate, I have never seen any approach this size. I do not know if there are several varieties of the tarantula, but some are said to haunt the marshy borders of streams, while others are found in dry, rocky places. Last summer, a woman was bitten near this district by one, just above her ankle; the poison acted quite as quickly as serpent-poison, and she was carried to the nearest town for surgical advice. I have not heard whether she lived or died; but her leg was all one uniform size from the instep to above the knee- I should think eighteen or twenty inches round-and shockingly discoloured and inflamed. I knew one of two men who were sleeping in a tent when a tarantula found its way in. They were both bitten by the same spider; one died, the other was scarred for life. tarantula is more dangerous than other venomous creatures, because a light attracts it, and it will always crawl into a tent, if possible, where a light is burning. They inflict the wounds with their mouths, and not with nippers or claws. The In England, we often hear of persons who have a sort of fancy for harmless snakes. One gentleman in Berkshire, as is well known, has a taste so strange, and, as it seems to me, so perverted, that he makes public announcement of his willingness to receive any quantity of live snakes, which he will turn loose in his park. Such a taste, so far as my experience goes, is utterly absent from the American people. When they do not fear the reptiles with an overpowering fear, they detest and abhor them. It is a fact as well known in England as it is here, that nearly every man who suffers from delirium tremens, imagines he sees or feels snakes near him. To have snakes in his boots' is almost proverbial, when speaking of such a man. It is very rare that any joking or pleasantry is tried on where snakes form the machinery; a wholesome dread of the pistol-bullet, which would be the infallible retort, keeps this out of court. Yet I have known one cruel, brutal joke-joke, indeed!-played on the fears of a man who was known to entertain a great horror of serpents. He was a switchman on a railway, and as every one knows, had to run to certain points, and turn them. His companions would catch a rattlesnake, draw its fangs, and then lay it down near the 'points.' The poor fellow could not possibly avoid going to his switch, and his comrades used to find amusement in hearing him wonder at the extraordinary fondness of the snakes for that part of the railway, and take credit to himself for the courage with which he attacked and killed them. I have no space left to speak of centipedes and scorpions, both of which are found very plentifully in Texas, and can only just mention the other snakes which are common in America. The black snake abounds in many parts, and grows to the length of six or seven feet; although not venomous, it is very much disliked and dreaded on account of its spiteful nature. It will frequently attack children, whom it has been known to suffocate by its folds, after the manner of a boa constrictor-in this place, by-the-bye, always termed the 'anaconda.' The racer-blue racer,' as it is called-derives its name from its swift and straight progression; it does not wriggle its crooked way through the dust, but, aided by its hard scales, which gripe the ground at each of its curves, goes direct as a line on its route, and with remarkable speed. The bull-snake is very handsomely marked with diamonds of black and yellow; hence I suspect it is the 'diamond-snake' of some districts. These snakes are the largest in North America, growing sometimes to the length of eight or ten feet, and are very powerful. I cannot remember to have read anywhere that the natives of Mexico were serpent-worshippers. The Pueblo Indians, however, were, and probably still are so, despite their baptisms and their civilisation. The Pueblos are the only civilised and working Indians known, and although often confounded with them, yet differ materially from the ordinary red men of America. Juarez, the ruler who slew and succeeded the unfortunate Maximilian in Old Mexico, was a full-blooded Pueblo ; and the tribe make very industrious, successful farmers, and possess, almost exclusively, several large towns. Taos, in New Mexico, is one of these, and it may be remarked that the Pueblo farmers' in that district raise wheat incomparably finer than any cultivated by their white rivals. But as regards the town of Taos, it is averred by too many credible persons to leave much doubt upon the subject, that serpent-worship is there practised, and that the sacred snake is there maintained. In the autumn of each year, great festivities are held at Taos, which correspond in their meaning, so far as outsiders are concerned, with our harvest-home; 6 and in the various games and races every one can join. But it is asserted that at this season other and more mysterious rites are celebrated, and the hidden serpent shewn to the faithful. The reptile is said to be, in every case-and other towns have a sacred snake-of the anaconda tribe, and my informants all declared that human sacrifices were offered on these great festivals. This cannot, of course, be proved. If such a thing is done, it must be done in secret; and if a child is really given to the snake, it is no doubt bought from persons at a distance, so that no one shall be missed in the town. Of course, too, those who would be bigoted enough to do such a thing, would also be true to the mystery. No one pretended to have seen the sacrifice, although two men-who were about the most likely in the district to have done so-averred they had seen the Taos snake. I fully believe there is such a serpent, and that it is worshipped, but as an emblem of something, not as a divinity. Amidst all the interesting legends and superstitions which attach to the Pueblo Indians, it is very plain that their real divinity is Montezuma. Him they worship, and him they expect; and in his honour is kept continually burning at Taos, and all other Pueblo towns, the sacred, never-dying fire. A WOMAN'S VENGEANCE CHAPTER XXXVII.-DANETON. I WILL tell you, Mr Adair,' answered Jenny, 'on the condition that you pass your solemn word that you do not reveal it to any human being, and least of all to Arthur. You love him better than he loves himself; you will have a sounder judgment to bring to bear upon the matter; no wicked slander against him will obtain credence with you for a moment. Yes, I will tell you.' She drew forth the hateful paper from her dress, and merely telling him where she had found it, placed it in his hand. He read its mysterious address aloud, as a lawyer reads his brief, with care and without surprise. That is the late Mrs Tyndall's hand-writing, remarked he, or else an admirable imitation of it These last words made Jenny's heart leap. It might, then, be a forgery, after all; she had never thought of that. She had also never thought of something else. In her frank and impulsive acceptance of Adair's assistance, and monopolised by her apprehensions upon Arthur's account alone, she had never thought of that first paragraph of the paper referring to herself-Helen's confession of her conduct at the lasher. Had she done so, nothing would have induced her to let Adair possess himself of the fact; and her heart smote her for her forgetfulness, as though she had volun tarily committed a breach of confidence against the dead. But it was now too late; Adair's quick eye had already perused those fatal lines. I have read enough, dear Mrs Tyndall,' said he, smiling, to convince myself of two things: first, that you were right not to shew this to your husband; secondly, that whatever more there is to read, it should not have disquieted you seriously for five minutes. It is sad and pitiful to think of what is here, but that is all.' 'How so?' asked Jenny, trembling, yet somewhat reassured, in spite of herself, by his confident tone. 'Why, is it not plain from her first words, that this poor lady was mad when she wrote them, and, therefore, whatever follows must needs be equally unworthy of credence-cannot possibly afford ground for serious sorrow, except upon her own account?' 'There is nothing in what you have read at present, Mr Adair,' answered Jenny softly, to prove that she was otherwise than in her right mind.' 'What! Not when she says she pushed you into the river?' 'No. She did push me in, though I believe it was half by accident, and though she afterwards saved me from drowning by great exertions, and at the risk of her own life.' Jack had meant to appear quite unmoved, whatever news he should become possessed of; but his honest face shewed both astonishment and horror. 'Great heaven!' ejaculated he; and did you never reveal this to anybody?' 'Never. I would never have let you know it, had it not been for what follows. Read on.' Jack read on, this time aloud: 'Moreover, I hereby solemnly declare that I go in fear of my life from my husband, Arthur Tyndall, who loves me not, but is bent on my death, in order that he may marry the girl aforesaid; and I charge whosoever shall find this paper, to make strict inquiry into the cause of whatsoever death I shall have died: whether by sudden seizure of disease (as it may have appeared), or by (seeming) accident, such as the being thrown out of a carriage "This is intolerable!' exclaimed Jack, interrupting himself. Whoever wrote that, wrote it after the event of that I am positively certain-and is a mean and slanderous liar!' 'I knew you would say that, dear Mr Adair!' cried Jenny, shedding grateful tears. If I had thought that, for one single instant, you would have believed this hateful paper, I would have died sooner than have let you see it.' 'Believe it?' echoed Jack disdainfully. If such a charge had been made, in such a manner, against my worst enemy, against any worthless fellow, such as Wynn Allardyce, for instance, I would not have believed it then; and to suppose that Arthur Tyndall But I will not suppose it; I will not breathe his name in connection with so foul and false a slander-a slander, too, that bears upon its face its own refutation; for there is malice and hate in every line. However, let us finish it: Such as the being thrown out of a carriage, or drowning (with both which he has menaced me), so that the guilt may be brought home where it is due.' And so it shall!' muttered Jack; 'the guilt of this abominable device shall be brought home to him or her who planned it, or my name is not John Adair!' "You have read the date,' said Jenny timidly; the last day of 1860; that would be a few days before the late Mrs Tyndall went abroad.' 'So I see; but it was as easy to forge a date as any other portion of this precious document.' "You think, then, that it is a forgery?' 'Most certainly, I do, dear Mrs Tyndall. The only argument against it is contained in the first portion of the document, which reveals a circumstance presumed to be known only to the supposed writer and yourself. But though you, it seems, have never revealed it to any one, the other person may have done so. It seems unlikely, it is true, but then there is no likelihood about the matter, any way. The late Mrs Tyndall, with whom you were certainly no favourite, may have had doubts of your generosity in concealing permanently the part she played at the lasher, and she might have confided it to another, in order to anticipate your revelation of it.' Neither spoke again for some minutes; Jack's mind had suddenly reverted to Brussels, and the strange communication which Arthur had there made to him. The differences between the unhappy pair must have been great indeed, to suggest to his friend's imagination such a vision as he had described; undoubtedly, Helen had been very bitter against him; nor would it have been absolutely out of the question that she might have left this document behind her, expressly to distress him after her death, but for its direct allusion to the carriage accident, through which she had in reality met her end. That coincidence was too striking to be fortuitous, and, in Adair's opinion, stamped the document as an undoubted forgery. It must have been written after the event which it affected so exactly to predict. His conviction on this point became even more complete when he proceeded to question Jenny confound. It seemed out of the question that, lying cerning the place in which the document was where it did, it could have escaped Mrs Glyn's careful eyes when she put the cabinet to rights; and if so, it must have been placed there long subsequent to the late Mrs Tyndall's death, by some unknown but hostile hand-the same, in all probability, which had forged its contents. Of this much, Adair felt tolerably convinced; but, at his own express desire, he retained the paper, in order to examine it more carefully at his leisure. 'It is not what you thought it was, dear Mrs Tyndall,' said he cheerfully- an attempt, shocking indeed to think of, on the part of the Dead to calumniate the Living; but yet it is bad enough, and reveals a fact that I should otherwise have doubted that you are not without a personal enemy. Can you make any guess at who it is?' No; she could not guess. She had never made but one enemy in the world (and that by no fault of her own), and she was dead. Her inability to conjecture who this foe, so bitter, so relentless, could possibly be, affected her no less than did her train of suspicion behind her, to be ignited by previous thought, that Helen herself had left this haphazard. It was terrible to think that in the neighbourhood, the village, nay, under her own roof itself, might lurk some malignant creature, watching the effects of the cruel device he or she had already put in action, and perhaps planning others more directly aimed against her husband's peace of mind. Suppose, for instance, such a document as she had found should meet the eyes of Arthur, jaundiced as they already were with respect to Helen, and morbidly sensitive as he was as to all that concerned his married past! How fatal might be the consequences; and yet what prudence or foresight on her part could avert a south-west wind the waves would break over them? Such a catastrophe might happen any- wall, so near the sea, that at flood-tide and with where, it was true; but Swansdale-the place where it had already happened to herself-seemed to her especially exposed to it. Notwithstanding her suspicions of the so-called Mrs Montague, she could not divorce herself from the idea that this enemy was near at hand-perhaps concealing her self (for her instinct told her it was a woman, notwithstanding that Adair, in default of any other known enemy of Arthur's, had suggested Allardyce as the culprit) under the mask of friendship, and marking daily with fiendish triumph the success of her design in Jenny's sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. If she could only leave home, some portion of the oppression which weighed upon her night and day, might, she thought, be removed from her mind; and this object was not difficult to effect. She had only to say to Arthur: 'I think change of air will do me good,' and he would take her gladly, she was well aware, whithersoever she pleased. It wounded her pride indeed-on Arthur's account, not her own-thus to leave the home he had given her, from fear of an anonymous slanderer, whom she despised and loathed. But she felt that it was necessary to do so, for the sake of that burden so precious to both of them which she carried within her, and whose very life might be endangered by her terrors; and the request was made. Altogether, the Dormers - which, after all, might have derived its name, and I daresay did so, from the storm-windows (as they were called at Daneton) set in its gabled roof-was rather a weird and uncanny sort of residence, especially when the wind was from the sea, and cast the sand up against the lattice-panes, as though fleshless fingers tapped at them, and the tall hedge of tamarisk bent low before it with a melancholy Of course, Arthur at once acceded to it. It delighted him to exchange his melancholy state of solicitude upon Jenny's account for any active measure for her benefit, while the doctors assured him that her desire was of good augury, and that'swish' like a ghostly hush. In the kitchen, which she was more likely, under the circumstances, to know what would do her good than they. As to place, since she expressed herself as quite indifferent to it, they recommended the south-west coast, and the London physician having a pet sea-village of his own—that is, of his own recommendation, and to whose air he had given a high certificate called Daneton, to Daneton they went. Thanks to its medical patron, and to a branch line, the shareholders of which have sacrificed themselves to its prosperity, Daneton is now a flourishing little town. But at the time of which we write, it was but a fishing hamlet, with not more than halfa-dozen houses adapted for the accommodation of visitors, all of which, however, at this season of the year, were tenantless and to let. There was no hotel, though a ground-plan was marked out for one, upon a very extensive scale; so, of these dwellings, the Tyndalls were compelled to take their choice. They were most of them very unattractive, being of the common marine lodging-house type'scamped' as to their building, with thin walls and deceptive fronts, and very skimpy' as to their internal fittings; but there was one residence called the Dormers-for what reason the oldest inhabitant of Daneton was unable to explain-which was in some respects superior to the rest, and, at all events, presented a welcome contrast to their commonplace uniformity. In the first place, it did not form any portion of a Terrace-so that what was said in its chambers was not instantly communicated to the next neighbours through the lath and plaster partition, or overheard by the stranger who might be lolling in the common balcony-but stood in its own grounds, a small wilderness of shrub and turf, surrounded by a feathery fence of tall sea-tamarisk, and a low stone was preposterously large, there were rats, it was land' caused her to maintain towards her neighbour gossips, had earned her a bad name. The Tyndalls, however, knew nothing of that, of course, nor of the vulgar prejudices to the disadvantage of her residence; and as for the latter, even if they had been aware of it, they would have held it of no account; for, notwithstanding that painful experience of Arthur's at Brussels, which itself had so waned and weakened since his second marriage that he would now hardly have defended it against sober argument, he was free from superstition; while Jenny both despised and loathed it. She was not an esprit fort-though her strong sense of right, and her independence in matters of opinion, led some of her sex to think her so-but she was singularly unimpressionable with respect to mysteries of all sorts. To her mind, there was quite enough that was inexplicable in the nature of things, without drawing upon human credulity for more wonders; and to suppose that a particular building, such as the Dormers, should have the attribute of attracting the spirits of the departed, would have seemed not only absurd to her, but irreverent. Once away from Swansdale, and its associations with the occurrence that had so shaken her nerves, usually steadfast, her spirits began to recover their tone. The wintry sea, the storms, the very loneliness of their mode of life, delighted her; for had she not always with her the best company in the world in her husband! He, on his part, beheld with thankfulness the colour slowly returning to his dear one's cheek, the smile to her lips, the music to her long silent tongue; and though, alas! while the shadow of her secret trouble was undispelled, there was no fear of Jenny's becoming too happy' again, Arthur Tyndall and his wife could once more be termed a happy pair. They spent the days either in walking on the sands, or about the primitive little hamlet-the marine inhabitants of which were as picturesque in their characters as were the shingle-built cottages they dwelt in-or in taking drives in the neighbourhood. Nothing about it could be described as either grand or beautiful, but much was strange and striking. At the back of the village ran a river, parallel to the sea for miles, and the tongue of land that divided the two waters formed a natural terrace, on which many gallant ships had dashed themselves to pieces, notwithstanding the warning flash of the lighthouse at its extremity by night, and the tall tower (raised by Danish hands) that stood up sentinel-like by day. From its summit, the whole country round shewed a level waste, marked neither with road nor hill, but bristling with ancient ruins. Here, at an elbow of the river, and there, on the margin of the sea, and there again, beside some ancient farm-house in the fields (though modern in comparison with it), stood tower, or castle, or abbey, all crumbling to decay. They had been doing so, however, for centuries (for their style of building was not that of the Daneton lodging-houses), and every year-not as it treats us men and women, with whom age means ugliness, and decay a loathsome change-had touched them with some new beauty, had added something to them of venerable awe. To one or other of these Arthur and Jenny' made their way daily; and in the evening, the latter would try to reproduce what she had seen in her sketch-book, while her husband read to her from some favourite | volume. It was almost like having their honeymoon over again. CHAPTER XXXVIII.-THE VISION. So happy were Arthur and Jenny in each other's society at Daneton, that they grudged even so slight an intrusion on it as another lodger under the same roof; and when Mrs Weeks suggested the possibility of the occurrence of such an event, Arthur opposed the idea with vigour. 'I would rather pay the extra rent, Mrs Weeks,' said he, and thereby secure his room instead of his company.' 'But it is not a he at all, sir,' remonstrated Mrs Weeks; it is only an invalid lady; and she has been recommended here by Dr Skewbald, the same gentleman as has found "ozone," or whatever it is, at Daneton, and is the making of the place.' 'I know all that, my good woman: he recommended us-but not to come to the Dormers in particular.' 'Yes, sir; but this is different. Mrs Newton, for that is her name, writes to say, or rather her maid writes for her, that a roomy house close by the sea is indispensable to her health, and that the doctor mentioned the Dormers, knowing, I suppose, that it had given yourselves satisfaction; and as for the poor lady, sir, you will never know she has come; for she will live in the next house, as it used to be, quite apart, and you need never so much as set eyes upon her.' Thus urged, Arthur gave a reluctant assent to the arrangement; and in due time Mrs Newton arrived an elderly lady, much muffled up, and apparently without the free use of her limbs, for she was carried out of the fly into her lodgings. Mrs Weeks, however, was as good as her word, for if the Tyndalls did 'set eyes' upon the new lodger, that was as much as they did. They saw her from the garden, sitting with her knitting-needles at her little window that fronted the sea; and they saw her twice or thrice in her wheel-chair on the sands; and that was all. She kept to her own wing of the old house, and in no respect interfered with them. On the twelfth day of their residence at Daneton, a telegram arrived from Adair requesting Arthur's immediate presence in London on important business. This summons, so unexpected, and so vague in terms, annoyed the husband, and alarmed the wife. Arthur was extremely averse to leave Jenny alone at Daneton, and yet this reticence, so uncharacteristic of his friend, as to the nature of the emergency, seemed to heighten the necessity for his departure. Jenny was once more filled with terrors in connection with their unknown enemy. Something must surely have again arisen from that base source to implicate her husband, and that so gravely that its nature could not be even hinted at. She besought him to let her accompany him; but he would not hear of that-the double journey involved hundreds of miles, and she was by no means fit for such travel; he promised to return, however, without fail on the ensuing day. Accordingly she saw him off by the morning train, and returned home dejected in spirits and full of forebodings. She had never before been separated from her husband even for a day, and in her forlorn and solitary state, the Dormers struck her, for the first time, as being a desolate and cheerless place. As she passed through the little |