ing extract:--"On the afternoon
of 23d July last," says Mr. Pearson, "the servant girl called me into the
pantry in a great flurry. She said a hagworm was trying to get in at the
window. And there it was, sure enough, raising itself straight up from the
window-sill; first trying one pane, and then another; strangely puzzled,
no doubt, that what seemed so clear an opening should offer any
obstruction. The glass manufacture was evidently a mystery to it. The
window being low, it had crawled over a heap of sand lying before it. It
had probably smelt something tempting in the pantry, with which it wished
to make nearer acquaintance. It was a beautiful creature. Its small head,
prominent dark eyes, and pretty mottled skin, might have pleaded strongly
for mercy; but, notwithstanding my general habit of sparing these reptiles
when I meet with them in my walks, it was approaching too much in the
guise of a housebreaker to be pardoned, so I gave orders for its instant
execution. Moreover, there is little doubt that it was the same individual
who had, in times past, come rather too near us to be pleasant. The year
before, I had noticed a viper within a yard or two of our kitchen-door,
with his head and about half a foot of his body thrust out from a hole in
the wall right behind the kitchen grate. The genial climate had most
likely attracted him. Be this as it may, before I could procure a switch
to chastise him for his impudence, he very prudently withdrew into his
hole, only protruding a part of his head and eyes, with which to make
observations. For some days after this, I never entered the house by the
back-door without thinking of our new neighbor; and once or twice I had a
glimpse of him in his old quarters, but he very warily never exposed more
of his precious person than his head and eyes, so that, if it had not been
for his unfortunate expedition to the pantry, he might still have been a
living hagworm. You are aware that this species of snake has at least
three names in England--the viper, adder, and hagworm. The last is our own
local term. Some authors class it with the amphibia. An extraordinary
narrative appeared lately in the 'Kendal Mercury,' of a snake crossing
Connistone Lake, which is at least half a mile wide. It was not the
sea-serpent, but our poor little hagworm, that was engaged in this bold
navigation. It was, however, unfortunately fallen in with by a piratical
boatman, and put to death. Without disputing th