Sighing, I climbed the lighthouse stair,
Half forgetting my grief and pain;
And while the day died, sweet and fair,
I lit the lamps again.

POISON OF THE RATTLESNAKE.

THE animal kingdom adds but two active
poisons to the numberless fatal agents which
form in bark and seed, or get new birth by
annual dozens from the chemist's laboratory.

These two animal poisons are furnished by
the race of venomous serpents and by the toad,
whose ancient and evil reputation modern
toxicology has finally justified by discovering in the
mucus of his skin a deadly and rapid poison.
The other animal substances which injure, we
may pass over here, because the venom of the
centipede or the scorpion is rarely fatal, and at
all events is not to be compared to the potent
material which the rattlesnake, cobra, or viper
deals out to its victim.

The venom of the serpent is certainly one of
the most powerful of all the poisons; and it
therefore strikes us as strange, that, for devilish
devices to kill, men have plundered vegetable
and mine, but have left to the serpent untouched
his death-giving juices. So far is this from the
popular belief, that venom has been for ages
supposed to form part of certain famous poisons,
and within a few years it was thought to be the
chief ingredient in the well known arrow poison
of South America. The symptoms of venom-
toxication are, however, distinct. It only
injures when placed under the skin or deep in the
tissues, and it is absolutely as harmless as bread
when swallowed. To have been used by the
poisoner it must, therefore, have been lodged in
the tissues—a difficult task; and we should
have then found related a certain set of symptoms
which would be unmistakable as evidence
of the character of the poison. No such
histories exist; and the doubtful case of the
Queen of Egypt is the only one where the
venom of the serpent figures upon the pages of
historic poisonings.

The savage has been equally unwilling or
unable to employ venom; and the various poisons
with which he arms his spear or dart—such as
the upas of the East, and the various wooraras
of South America and the Isthmus—are all
found to be of vegetable origin, and to act
differently from the poisons yielded by the snakes of
the various countries in question.

It is to be presumed that the non-employment
of a poison so fatal and so widely diffused
has been due to the difficulty of securing it in
quantity, and to the world-wide dread of
serpents, rather than to any other cause. Such
sentiments may have had something to do with
the scientific neglect which so long left these
poisons to be the subject of a hundred fabulous
tales, while other and far less interesting poisons
have been studied over and over with
never-ending care and patience. Not, however, that
this has been the only reason. Science is fearless,
and carries untrembling her all-revealing
torch, with little regard to the fears and prejudices
which check the steps of those who are
not her followers and priests. But in Europe,
where investigators are abundant, poisonous
serpents are small and rare; whilst in lands
where the snake exists in hideous plenty, the
experimental toxicologist is rarely found, or
lacks the means to carry on his pursuits. In
Europe, also, the added interest which once
belonged to the subject on account of the number
of serpents has lessened with their gradual
extinction; and, as man has not himself employed
this poison, it has also wanted the fascination
belonging to agents which, having once figured
in some famous poisoning case, never again fail
of interesting the chemist and toxicologist, who
sets about at once to discover antidotes and
detective tests for each rare poison, as in turn it
makes good this horrible claim to be so
considered. In this way the great Palmer case
brought about the most careful study of both
strychnia and tartar emetic; while the equally
infamous Boccarmé poisoning in Belgium led to
a thorough investigation of nicotine, which for
the first time made its appearance upon the
annals of crime.

Lacking this kind of interest, but surrounded
by a haze of the strangest popular beliefs, the
serpent venom got no fair examination until
the researches of Francisco Redi, whose essay,
originally in Italian, 1669, is now before me in
Latin form, Amsterdam, 1675; a small volume
of Experimenta circa res diversas naturales,
speciatim illas, quæ ex Indiis ad feruntur. On
the title-page, a buxom figure of Science receives
gifts from a plumed Indian with a crocodile
comfortably bestowed under his arm. Charas,
a better observer, wrote soon after Redi. His
work, entitled New Experiments upon Vipers,
with exquisite Remedies, etc., now rendered into
English, London, 1673, set at rest many popular
fallacies, and prepared the way for the more
elaborate research made by the well-known
Felix Fontana, and first published in Lucca in
1767. Of this remarkable toxicological study it
is difficult to speak too highly. Resting upon
at least three thousand experiments on all
classes of animals, it displays an amount of
industry and scientific sagacity which have
been rarely equalled. A short chemical paper
by Lucien Bonaparte, and scattered records of
cases of poisoning, comprise nearly all that has
been added to the subject, so far as concerns
the viper. In the East Indies, Russell and
Davy have since experimented with the venom
of the cobra, and Dr. Rufz has given us an
excellent account of the dreaded vipère fer
de lance of Martinique, while in America
the toxicology of the rattlesnake and copperhead
have been studied of late with every advantage
which the most modern methods could give.
From these researches collectively we are able
to offer a sketch of the toxicology of snake
poisons which will at least approach in completeness
that which can be given of any of the
best-known and more accessible poisons.

The United States possess but three kinds of