e lived, but I have not been able to trace his
history any further at present.

Did you see that snake? We have many of them on the common, and they
often cross my path in the garden. Happily there are not many of the
venomous kind: they are smaller than this one, and have a V-shaped mark
on the head. One day in August I was sitting by the open French window
in the drawing-room when one of these harmless snakes came close to me,
looked up at me, putting its quivering little tongue in and out. I
suppose it decided that I could be trusted, for it glided in and coiled
itself round upon my dress skirt and seemed to go to sleep. I let it
stay a good while, but fearing some one might be frightened at seeing it
there, I reached my parasol and with the hooked handle softly took up
the snake and laid it on the grass-plat outside thinking it would go
away--but no, it only turned round and came back and coiled itself up in
the same place. I found it did not mind being touched, so I stroked it
and made it creep all its length through my hand--not a very pleasant
sensation, but a curious experience rarely to be met with. When the
cold, clammy creature had passed out of my hand it threw out a most
disgusting odour, of which I had often read. I imagine it was offended
at my touching it and did this in self-defence. I had at last to carry
it a long distance to ensure it should not return to the room again.

Some years ago I was witness to the mode in which a snake pursues its
victim. A large frog leaped upon the gravel walk before the windows,
crying piteously like a child and taking rapid leaps; a moment after a
large snake appeared swiftly pursuing the frog. At last it reached it,
and gave it a bite which broke its back, and then, being alarmed, it
darted away amongst some rock-work, leaving the frog in a dying state.

This bank we are passing is a favourite winter retreat for female humble
bees. Early in the autumn they begin to scoop out a little tunnel in
this grassy slope, and when it is deep enough to protect them from the
frost they retire into it, and pushing up the earth behind them close up
the entrance of the hole, and there lie dormant until the warmth of
spring tempts them to come out. Then they may be found in great numbers
on the early sallow, and other tree-blossoms, recruiting their strength,
while they seek a place in some hedge-bank wherein to found a new
colony.

The Carder bee forms its nest on the ground and m