doubt it?" "Why, you were then all froth and
conceit," said the old man, "and now you take off your cap to me." "I
beg your pardon," said I, "if I was frothy and conceited, it ill becomes
a child like me to be so." "That's true, dear," said the old man; "well;
as you have begged my pardon, I truly forgive you." "Thank you," said I;
"have you caught any more of those things?" "Only four or five," said
the old man; "they are getting scarce, though this used to be a great
neighbourhood for them." "And what do you do with them?" said I; "do you
carry them home and play with them!" "I sometimes play with one or two
that I tame," said the old man; "but I hunt them mostly for the fat which
they contain, out of which I make unguents which are good for various
sore troubles, especially for the rheumatism." "And do you get your
living by hunting these creatures?" I demanded. "Not altogether," said
the old man; "besides being a viper-hunter, I am what they call a
herbalist, one who knows the virtue of particular herbs; I gather them at
the proper season, to make medicines with for the sick." "And do you
live in the neighbourhood?" I demanded. "You seem very fond of asking
questions, child. No, I do not live in this neighbourhood in particular,
I travel about; I have not been in this neighbourhood till lately for
some years."

From this time the old man and myself formed an acquaintance; I often
accompanied him in his wanderings about the neighbourhood, and on two or
three occasions assisted him in catching the reptiles which he hunted.
He generally carried a viper with him which he had made quite tame, and
from which he had extracted the poisonous fangs; it would dance and
perform various kinds of tricks. He was fond of telling me anecdotes
connected with his adventures with the reptile species. "But," said he
one day, sighing, "I must shortly give up this business, I am no longer
the man I was, I am become timid, and when a person is timid in
viper-hunting he had better leave off, as it is quite clear his virtue is
leaving him. I got a fright some years ago, which I am quite sure I
shall never get the better of; my hand has been shaky more or less ever
since." "What frightened you?" said I. "I had better not tell you,"
said the old man, "or you may be frightened too, lose your virtue, and be
no longer good for the business." "I don't care," said I; "I don't
intend to follow the business: I dare say I shall be an