harm in these little garden-snakes than there is in a robin or a
squirrel--they are poor little, peaceable, timid creatures, which
could not do any harm if they would; but the prejudices of society
are so strong against them that one does not like to cultivate too
much intimacy with them. So we tried to turn out of our path into a
tangle of bushes; and there, instead of one, we found four snakes.
We turned on the other side, and there were two more. In short,
everywhere we looked, the dry leaves were rustling and coiling with
them; and we were in despair. In vain we said that they were
harmless as kittens, and tried to persuade ourselves that their
little bright eyes were pretty, and that their serpentine movements
were in the exact line of beauty: for the life of us, we could not
help remembering their family name and connections; we thought of
those disagreeable gentlemen the anacondas, the rattlesnakes, and the
copper-heads, and all of that bad line, immediate family friends of
the old serpent to whom we are indebted for all the mischief that is
done in this world. So we were quite apprehensive when we saw how
our new neighbourhood was infested by them, until a neighbour calmed
our fears by telling us that snakes always crawled out of their holes
to sun themselves in the spring, and that in a day or two they would
all be gone.

So it proved. It was evident they were all out merely to do their
spring shopping, or something that serves with them the same purpose
that spring shopping does with us; and where they went afterwards we
do not know. People speak of snakes' holes, and we have seen them
disappearing into such subterranean chambers; but we never opened one
to see what sort of underground housekeeping went on there. After
the first few days of spring, a snake was a rare visitor, though now
and then one appeared.