account proceeds thus:—“It is not venomous, nor known to injure man (at least, not in this part of the New World); however, the natives of the plains stand in great fear of it, never bathing in waters where it is known to exist. Its common haunt, or rather domicile, is invariably near lakes, swamps, and rivers; likewise close to wet ravines, produced by inundations of the periodical rains; hence, from its aquatic habits, its first appellation. Fish, and those animals which repair there to drink, are the objects of its prey. The creature lurks watchfully under cover of the water, and whilst the unsuspecting animal is drinking, suddenly makes a dash at its nose, and with a grip of its back-reclining double range of teeth, never fails to secure the terrified beast beyond the power of escape. In an instant the sluggish waters are in turbulence and foam, the whole form of the Colubra is in motion, its huge and rapid coilings soon encircle the struggling victim, and but a short moment elapses, ere every bone is broken in the body of the expiring prey. On its ceasing to exist, the fleshy tongue of the reptile is protruded (taking a long and thinnish form), passing over the whole of the lifeless beast, leaving on it a sort of glutinous saliva that greatly facilitates the act of deglutition, which it performs gradually, by gulping it down through its extended jaws,–a power of extension of them it possesses to so frightful and extraordinary a degree as not to be believed, when looking at the comparative smallness of the mouth and throat in their tranquil state. After having completely devoured, or rather hidden, its prey in the way described, it becomes powerless as to motion, and
