eries of reptiles. Alligators of
immense size are found in the rivers, creeks, and pools, and serpents
are met with on the swampy banks of the river, as large as the
main-topmast of a merchant ship, and much larger! The serpents being
amphibious, often take to the water, and being driven unconsciously
down the rivers by the currents, have been fallen in with on the coast
several miles from the land.

An incident took place on this coast in 1841, on board the bark Jane, of
Boston, Captain Nickerson, which created quite a sensation on the decks
of that vessel. The bark was ready for sea, and had anchored in the
afternoon outside the bar at the mouth of the Surinam River, when
the crew turned in and the watch was set that night. The bark was a
well-conditioned, orderly vessel, harboring no strangers, interlopers,
or vagrants of any description.

The next morning, soon after daybreak, the mate put his hand into an
open locker, at a corner of the round-house, for a piece of canvas,
when it came in contact with a soft, clammy substance, which, to his
consternation and horror, began to move! He drew back, uttering an
exclamation, in a voice so loud and startling as to alarm the captain
and all hands, who hastened on deck in time to see an enormous serpent
crawl sluggishly out of the closet, and stretch himself along the deck,
with as much coolness and impudence as if he thought he really belonged
to the brig, and with the monkeys and parrots, constituted a portion of
the ship's company!

Not so thought Captain Nickerson and the brave men with him. The word
was passed along "There is a snake on board, as long as the main-top
bowline! Kill him, kill him!"

The sailors seized handspikes, the cook flourished his tormentors, the
mate wielded an axe, and the captain grasped a pistol! Thus equipped and
armed, they rushed to the encounter.

The reptile found himself among foes instead of friends. Where he looked
for hospitality and kind treatment he found cruelty, oppression, and
even murder! He saw it was useless to contend against his fate when the
odds were so decidedly against him, and wisely made no resistance. He
was stabbed by the cook, cudgelled by the crew, brained by the mate, and
shot by the captain. And, adding insult to injury, he was stripped of
his skin, which was beautifully variegated and measured fourteen feet in
length, and brought to Boston, where it was examined and admired by many
of the citizens.

This s