On one of the flaming Sunday mornings, when there was not a cloud in the brazen skies, a well known missionary came home from early service and seated himself at the breakfast-table with his family.  The door of the dining-room was open and the Teluga school-teacher was outside, when he became interested in a novel sight.  A frog was hopping along the front veranda, with an immense cobra chasing it.  The serpent struck at it repeatedly, but the fugitive, in its desperation, eluded each blow, giving utterance to pitiful cries, as a frog will do when pursued by a snake.

The end of the veranda reached, the frog leaped off, and the cobra dropped to the ground in hot pursuit, but a box, standing near, offered shelter.  The creature scrambled beneath, just in time to avoid another swift blow of the reptile, which was unable to follow it.  The cobra glided around the box, seeking some avenue by which to reach his victim, but, finding none, moved off in the grass and disappeared.

The teacher hurried into the dining-room, with the announcement of what he had seen.  The missionary listened gravely and then inquired: 

“Where is the cobra now?”

“I cannot tell, sir; he moved off among the flower-pots, but I do not know whither he went.”

“It is not my practice to go shooting on Sunday,” remarked the minister, “but it won’t do to have that serpent where it is liable to bite one of us.  He must have a hole somewhere near the flower-pots; please keep watch while I get my pistol.”

The missionary always kept a loaded revolver for use when traveling through the jungle at night, and he speedily stepped out on the veranda, with the weapon in hand, and started to find the cobra.

Two large native flower-pots stood within a couple of yards of the veranda.  Each contained a fragrant rose, of which the good man’s wife was very fond.  Every day she spent some time sprinkling them with water or removing the dead leaves, never suspecting what proved to be the fact that while thus employed, she continually moved about a spot where an immense cobra lay coiled.

An opening was discovered directly between the flower pots, partly concealed by the grass.  It was about as thick as a man’s wrist, and descended perpendicularly, expanding into a small chamber.

The minister called for a hand-mirror, and with little trouble threw the bright reflection of the sun into the hole, a little more than a foot deep, fully lighting up the interior.

The cobra was there!  It lay motionless in a glistening coil, as if resting from its fruitless pursuit of the frog and brooding over its disappointment.  It was an alarming sight, but the good man kept cool, and meant business from the start.

Taking a piece of broken wagon tire, he thrust it slantingly into the hole, to hold the serpent a prisoner, and shoving the muzzle of his revolver forward, he let fly.