I HAVE no knowledge of natural history beyond the little I have picked up in the casual reading of popular books: but it is quite probable that from my own observation, I know more of the habits of the ichneumon than can be found in any published work; and certainly I am able to say positively that some statements on this subject, which I have seen in works, apparently of authority, are without foundation.

The knowledge which I have thus gained of the habits and characteristics of this singular animal, may be briefly stated as follows:

(1). It has no immunity from the effects of snake poison, but if bitten it dies, like any other animal.

(2). It does not resort to any root or herb as an antidote to the effects of snake bite.

(3). In contending with snakes it Owes its safety to its keenness of sight and marvellous rapidity of motion.

(4). It never attacks a snake except at the back of the neck.

(5). It knows at a glance whether or not a snake is venomous, even although it be of a species which it can never have seen before.

Some years ago a friend of mine in Sydney became possessed of one of these animals, just brought from India. It may be presumed that it had been captured when young, and that probably it had never encountered a snake, and that certainly it had never seen one of an Australian species.

I was invited to witness a trial to be made at the Australian Museum of its famed powers of snake-killing, and gladly obeyed the summons. I have never before committed to writing, or made any note of what I then saw, but the scene was so interesting and so remarkable that its incidents recurred frequently to my mind and became fixed in my memory.

I was surprised to see that the ichneumon was a harmless looking little animal, about eight or nine inches in length, without the tail. From the hind-quarters to the tip of the nose, which was long and pointed, its body tapered away, thus forming a kind of cone. Its appearance was gentle and innocent, it was without formidable teeth or claws, and might be handled without danger of scratching or biting.

In the presence of two or three spectators it was introduced into a glass case about 40 inches in length and 20 inches in breadth, where already had been placed a non-venemous snake of the carpet kind, about 20 inches long, and of the usual proportions.

The gentle aspect of the little Ichneumon immediately vanished and

was replaced by one of caution quite unmixed with fear; for whilst keeping at a respectful distance from the snake, it hopped about watching for an opportunity for attack, apparently with much enjoyment.

The demeanour of the snake was

very different. It recognised at once the presence of a deadly enemy, and retreated in terror to the farthest corner of the case, lifting its head as far as it could, about six inches above the floor, with its back in the corner, evidently for the purpose of placing the back of its neck as far as possible out of reach of the ichneumon.

The position of things at this stage of the encounter, presents some difficult, or rather insoluble problems. I should like to know how the ichneumon knew that the snake was not venomous, as shown by its playful demeanour, at the same time that it took care not to risk an attack until it could do so without danger from the fatal coils and formidable teeth of its antagonist. I should also like to know how the snake recognised at once as a formidable enemy, this contemptible looking little animal, whose size could hardly have exceeded that of its ordinary prey, and which apparently, it could easily have crushed in its folds and swallowed whole in an instant; and how it knew that the back of its neck was the part liable to attack. I fancy I fancy I can hear these questions answered instantly in a kind of asinine chorus, with the words, "Oh, they knew all this by instinct of course."

Now instinct is a word which I abhor, and which ought to be for ever expelled from every speech or writing having any pretensions to accuracy of statement. What do we mean if we say that these animals knew these things by instinct? We mean that we have not the slightest idea of how they came by this knowledge, our ignorance being accompanied by a strong impression that the whole thing is beyond the reach of human understanding. Then why not say just thatwhy not say that we do not know, instead of putting on a pseudo scien

tific appearance of explanation by the

use of the word instinct?

The snake having raised its head to the utmost extent of its strength, could not maintain the position for many minutes, but was obliged to lower itself at intervals for temporary rest. The ichneumon catching a favourable opportunity, with a sudden bound seized the snake by the back of the neck and held fast. The snake made no attempt to use its teeth, but began slowly to wind its folds around its unpleasant little enemy. When the folds reached the hind quarters, it seemed all over with the ichneumon. One fold more and it would have been completely enveloped and crushed to death. The ichneumon seemed to know all this better than he did, for just at the critical moment it let go its hold, slipped out of the folds, and sprang to the other end of the enclosure with a marvellous agility like to nothing on earth that I had ever seen before.

The demeanour of the ichneumon might now be described as "jolly." It seemed to enjoy the sport, and might almost be fancied to be saying to itself like the Yankee under similar circumstances, Well, this is an exciting little game.

Over and over again the same manœuvres were repeated, the snake growing weaker and weaker. and the ichneumon bolder and bolder. Time after time it was enclosed in the coils of the snake, and every time it slipp d out scathless, its escape being much facilitated by the peculiar conical form of its body.

After a time the snake became too much exhausted to raise its head above the floor, and endeavoured to protect the back of its neck by enclosing its head and neck in its own folds. Even then the ichneumon, dancing proudly about on the prostrate form of its antagonist, disdained to adopt any but its usual mode of attack, and watching between the folds with its keen little eyes, found occasional opportunities of seizing the snake as usual by the back of the neck. At last the snake

became too weak to squeeze off the ichneumon, and after suffering a prolonged biting, it died.

The ichneumon did not gnaw or attempt to eat any part of the carcase, but took no further notice of it. To it the whole affair seemed to be a mere matter of sport.

After allowing the ichneumon a short interval of rest, a death-adder, about nine or ten inches long, was placed uuder the glass case. The snake lay torpidly in the middle of the floor of the case.

The demeanour of the ichneumon underwent a complete change. Its lively hopping about gave place to a cantious and stealthy tread. It crept round the enclosure with its eyes fixed on the snake with a look of extreme vigilance. The snake took no notice of it. Suddenly the ichneumon made a spring and seized the adder by the back of the neck, and the snake at the same instant attempted to bite its foe. This part of the proceedings was too much like sleight-of-hand, the motions too rapid, for us to discern with certainty exactly what took place. However, the ichneumon had the snake in its teeth, but did not, as in the former case, hold fast, but merely lifted it up and then, hurling it to the floor with such strength as it had, bounded to the other end of the enclosure with the speed of thought. We could not be sure whether or not it had been bitten

in this encounter. It worked its jaws and licked its lips in a peculiar manner, but the purport and intention of this performance we were not able to conjecture.

The aspect of the ichneumon no longer disclosed the keen enjoyment of the sportsman, but rather the desperate determination of the gladiator centending for his life.

After this first attack the snake lay quiescent as before. The ichneumon renewed its attack, and, after a few more encounters such as I have described, the snake was killed. The ichneumon, as before, took no notice of the body. A second and, I think, a third adder was killed in the same way and then the exhibition closed.

The ichneumon was afterwards taken by its owner to the country, where, after killing a great number of snakes, it was placed by some stupid person in a hollow log which a snake had been seen to enter. It is supposed that it had not room for its usual tactics, for it was bitten and died.

SPORTING ADVENTURES
IN AUSTRALIA.
BY CHARLEY CORNSTALK.
(Continued).

Everything being ready, and it being now 12 o'clock and the spectators becoming impatient, after some little trouble owing to the fresh condition of the horses, a good start was effected by the dropping of a handkerchief, and away went the six competitors in close order.

The first four leaps were over stiff ironbark fences. Rory O'More led the way over the first flight, closely fellowed by Marquis, Chevalier, and the Mountain Maid. Proserpine struck the top rail heavily and came down, but recovered herself and took the next three fences in good style. Moonlight refused the first fence, but negotiated it on a second trial. At the fourth fence Marquis, cleverly ridden by M'Lean, showed in front, with the Mountain Maid hard held at his quarter, Chevalier and Moonlight well up. In this order they continued taking their leaps without a baulk half-way round the course, where a formidable obstacle presented itself in the shape of a log fence nearly five feet high and about as wide at the base. The Mountain Maid rushed at this and took it in a magnificent flying leap a clear three lengths ahead of the field, and it was all Jem could do to prevent her from bolting at the turn. As it was he took a circuit of a hundred yards or more before he got her head round again. This threw him back fourth in the race, the Marquis closely waited upon by Chevalier and Moonlight having put a couple of sapling fences behind him. Rory O'More

had refused the timber jump, and the black mare was some distance astern.

The grey's stride soon brought her into close quarters with the leading horses again, and as they neared the artificial leap where Jem s fall had taken place the day before, they still kept the same order with about a length between each horse. Here Miss Fanny Burton's colors came to grief, Chevalier going through a second acrobatic feat at the double jump, and bolting without his rider. Jem being on the outside of the course now came up with a rush, the mare pulling hard, and giving Moonlight the go by, landed the next moment a good seven feet on the far side of the cutting close on to the heels of Marquis. The Yarrawa colors were now both in front, and if Jem had paid close attention to the advice of his trainer he would undoubtedly have pulled off the race. But he lost his head altogether in the intoxication of success, and instead of koeping the mare in hand for the water jump and then making play, he was racing for place with his rival. Neck and neck they approached the creek, when the Mountain Maid, suddenly catching a glimpse of the water, swerved to the right, and in spite of all her rider's efforts cleared a low paling fence, crossed the garden at the back of the stand, leapt two sets of slip panels, and galloped up to the stable door, where she stopped of her own accord, leaving Jem Cnrtis in the position of John Gilpin at the end of his far-famed

race,

"Nor stopped till where he first got up He did again get down."

Marquis winning a well ridden race by four lengths, Moonlight second, and the rest nowhere.

Thus ended the Yarrawa steeplechase, not altogether to the discomfiture of our hero, who had ridden a hitherto notoriously unmanageable horse, with great pluck and judgement.

Jem was, nevertheless, very sore when he was chaffed for coming in at the back of the stand where the ladies could not see him, but Archibald

M'Lean, who was a fine manly fellow, and as we have seen, a splendid horseman, spoke in such high terms of his riding, that it was impossible to cherish any unkindly feeling towards the winner, and when Georgie, who was unusually soft and gracious in her manner, whispered to him that evening that her friend Archie was positively engaged to Fanny Burton, there was not a particle of alloy in Jem's cup of happiness.

VIC HASN'T GOT THE COAL.

Bold Francis is a man of parts,
Which no one can deny ;
The fire of large causality
Twinkles in his eye.

The terminus in Vic. he got

'Tis known from pole to poleBut there's no mistake about it Vic. hasn't got the coal.

He slaughtered Saul and Henry,
The Gentile and the Jew;
It was no use their trying

To cock-a-doodle do-o.
Black diamonds in the struggle
Never pained his soul;
But there's no mistake about it,
Vic. hasn't got the coal.

The Argus, whose philosophy
Is quite profound of late,
In classic language muttered-

"What's the odds if all is slate?" But slates are things to figure on

When totting up the whole; And there's no mistake about,

Vic. hasn't got the coal.

Here's three times three for New South Wales,

For Saul and Henry too; We'll stick to her like cobbler's wax

Till the blackest coal burns blue. We are not proud, and do not wish To put Vic. in the hole; But there's no mistake about it, Vic. hasn't got the coal.

W. G. B.