confirm the statement. During the daytime my snake lies quiet, apparently fast asleep. Whether or no he is so I cannot say, but I notice that the elliptic pupil of the eye is generally at this time almost invisible. On touching him, however, the black streak widens until the pupil is large and round, and this I presume means that he is waking up and opening his eyes. However, during the day he seldom moves or takes any notice of what is passing around him; at night he is quite a different animal. He generally wakes up about seven or eight o'clock in the evening, when I see his small head and pearly-white throat peering through the glass front of his case. His movements are restless, quick, and active, and he is rarely still for long together, moving at a fairly rapid pace round the case, and up and down a branch which is placed therein for the purpose of exercise. The pupil at this time is full and round, covering nearly all the eye. His great delight is to be allowed to leave the case and climb about my shoulders, or to have the free run of the room, where he goes on exploring expeditions over chairs, tables, &c, inquisitively examining everything by the aid of his constantly vibrating tongue. Dull-coloured articles which do not shine have not nearly the same attraction for him as those which are brightly polished. The Rev. G.C. Bateman, in his useful book, 'The Vivarium,' expresses the opinion that snakes possess little or no sense of hearing, and my observation certainly confirms this; for, while the Python is exceedingly quick at detecting vibration, he takes not the slightest notice of any sound which is unaccompanied by it, even at times when he is most "wide-awake."
The rate of growth is much more rapid than I should have expected. When I obtained him on Sept. 7th, 1897, he then measured 6 ft. 6 in. in length; on Nov. 29th he had increased to 6 ft. 10 in., and to-day (Sept. 2nd, 1898) he measures 8 ft. 1 in., an increase of nineteen inches for the twelve months. His girth has also considerably increased. During the year he has shed his skin four times. The first was only a few days after I got him, when I noticed him rubbing his head upon the felt at the bottom of the case in order to loosen the skin round his jaws. I have unfortunately lost my notes of the details of the operation, but I remember the time occupied from beginning to end of the proceedings was only twenty minutes, the skin being cast in one piece. Frequently I place in the case a zinc bath filled with water, and in this the Python spends a good deal of time, lying totally immersed, but with the nostrils just above the surface of the water. If disturbed he will withdraw even this, and my friend Mr. F. Grant and myself timed him on one occasion for 5£ minutes before he raised his head to take breath. To this bath he always repairs before casting his skin, and usually passes a considerable time therein on such occasions. On Nov. 20th, noticing that the reptile was listless and
