by a second, and a third; after them came plenty more; and then there was a clatter, clatter, which preceded a hurry, scurry, interspersed with sundry lumps and bumps, which sounded as if they were playing with cobbler’s lapstones. Then came other hideous sounds, till at last you would have thought there were at least a dozen coach-horses dancing a polka. In the midst of all, then commenced a most terrific battle, which ultimately proved to be a contest for the Bloomers; and to such a pitch of desperation did they carry the conflict, that the two cousins, for the first time in their lives, were literally scared; and, like poor Eliza, tremblingly hid their heads beneath the clothes to shield them from these daring burglars. There they lay steaming and quaking, when their father, from the bottom of the stairs, called out to know what noise that was; and, not receiving an answer, he called out three times; but they were too terrified to answer, or even put their heads out, hence he concluded they were fast asleep, and returned to his bed. But his calling out startled all the rats; nor did they return, at least while the girls were awake; for there they lay listening and listening, till every sense grew dim and weary, when Morpheus, entwining them in his leaden arms, at length lulled them to sleep.
The following morning, the dame was up betimes to get her husband’s breakfast ready, and put everything in prim order for the comfort of her guest. Hour after hour rolled on, till the clock struck ten, when the good man returned for his luncheon.—“What! the girls not stirring yet, dame?” “No, she had heard nothing of them; but she supposed they were tired!” “Well, just get us a jug of ale, an’ then go an’ wake ’em up, or they’ll sleep all day, mon.” The ale was soon on the table, and up to their bedroom she went and knocked, but received no answer; for, what with their being kept awake with rats, and the nervous terror they had experienced, assisted by the narcotic effects of the carbonic acid gas they were inhaling beneath the clothes, there they lay, enfolded in each other’s arms, like sleeping graces in a group of statuary! Dame knocked again, when a faint voice said, “Come in.” In she went, and oh, what a picture of horrors presented itself! She shrieked out. “Oh, look’ee here! whatever shall we do?” The three girls shot up like a Jack-in-the-box, and sat bolt upright in bed, with their eyes and mouths wide open. “Dear, dear, dear!” said dame, “whatever shall we do? Here’s this beautiful velvet jacket on the ground, and covered all over with dirt—we shall all go mad—an’ there’s the beautiful petticoat just as bad. I never saw anything so cruel in all my life—an’ there’s the beautiful hat thrust into the corner without its feather—but where are the Bloomers gone?”
Here the two daughters, assisted by their mother, sent forth such shrieks of lamentation and horror, that it aroused the good man from his luncheon; and as for poor Eliza, she fell back in hysterics. In came master: “Why, what i’ the world’s the matter?” “Matter, John,” said dame, “just look’ee here;—I’ll lay my life on’t, ’tis those cursed rats!” John scratched his head, and with a vacant gaze, said, “Very like, very like.”
Till now, they had not noticed poor Eliza in hysterics! “Dear, dear,” said dame, “here’s a peck o’ trouble; the poor child’s fainted away.” Downstairs she ran for some little antidote, and met Eliza’s mother at the bottom, who had just arrived from London. John, in the interim, went to pick up the hat, and saw in it a large rat and a number of young ones. He roared out for his dog Boxer, and at the same time kicked at the hat with all his might, and knocked it into all manner of shapes; when in rushed Boxer, “Rat, rat! boy!” said master, urging on the dog. But it would appear that he had killed the old one and some of its young with his kicks. The dog thrust his muzzle into the hat, and killed the remainder, and then became so excited, that he seized the hat in his jaws, and shook it till it rattled again, when out flew all the dead rats and pieces of ostrich-feather; for the old rat had bit the feather in pieces to make a soft nest for her young. At last Boxer finished his work by fixing his fore feet upon the hat, and tearing it all to pieces, just as the two mothers entered.
To describe the old lady’s horror and indignation at the scene were a thing impossible. Besides, always when she came down to the farm, it was her invariable custom to put on her utmost dignity, because master was her younger brother, with whom she always exercised the right of quarrelling; consequently they never met without a row.
By this time Eliza had somewhat recovered; and John, to evade his sister’s glances, as well as to find out where the rats had their retreats, went groping into all the corners, and lastly into an old cupboard. “Holloa,” said he, “why, what’s this down the rat-holes?” at the same time dragging it forth, and holding it up to view,—“Why, dang my buttons,” he roared out, “if ’tisn’t the gal’s Bloomers!”
It would appear that, in the contention overnight, the rats had slit them up to the waistband; and, in their retreat, each party had dragged a leg down their respective holes. You may easily imagine what state the Bloomers were in. The old lady, in a towering passion, rushed at John, and snatching them out of his hands, declared he was “the most ignorantest fool she ever knowed;” and concluded by stating, what a curse it was to think that she should be related to such a brute.
The old lady was gathering herself up for a perfect storm, when John told his wife that he could be of no further use to them, so he would go about his farm, and leave them to settle the matter the best way they could.
And now I shall conclude with two more observations: first, that this affair had the effect of entirely curing Eliza’s propensity for Bloomerism; and secondly, that the cause of these disasters seems to have arisen from the fact, that Eliza, being out for a day’s holiday, had used musk rather freely. Rats, being naturally fond of that scent, had been attracted by its odour to the spot; and hence arose the great battle for the Bloomers.
CHAPTER VI.
DIETETICS OF RATS.
WE now come to that part of Ratology which most concerns the interests and well-being of the human family, namely, the rat’s stomach.
Of all animal stomachs I believe the rat to possess the most astounding and convenient one; for it can adapt the intestines to every kind of digestible substance that chance or locality produces. Rats will eat all kinds of grain or farinaceous food, from a sago or tapioca pudding, hot or cold, with or without sauce, down to horse-beans, peas, or coarsest barley or pea meal, including all kinds of pastry, from the choicest cheese-cakes or custards down to the commonest hot or cold cross-bun or sailor’s biscuit.
As for fish, rats have no mercy on them. They will eat all kinds of small fry, heads, tails, bodies, bowels, bones and all, from the delicate whitebait or smelt down to the rusty red-herring of Scotland. Indeed, nothing comes amiss to them, from the whale to the shrimp. Hence arises the cause of their locating, during the summer months, at the water-side.
In the “Sporting Magazine” there is a grave series of charges brought by a gentleman against rats for their depredations among corn, game, and fish. In speaking of the last, he says: “There is another and most serious evil occasioned by rats; that is, the destruction of fish in streams, pools, and stews, where fish are preserved.” He says few persons have any notion of the quantity of rats that frequent these places. He does not mean the more innocent, brown, short-eared, small, bright-eyed, and pretty-looking water-vole, but the coarse, fierce, grey when old, Norway, farmer’s rat, the frequenter of houses, buildings, ricks, hedges, plantations, brooks, pools, and every place under the heavens; while the vole, neither in winter nor summer, ever deserts the water, but on a summer’s evening may be seen quietly seated by the side of the stream, munching the white root of the bulrush, of which it is particularly fond, and holding it up in its paws, squirrel-fashion, seems to enjoy its evening repast as much as an alderman does his whitebait dinner, if that were possible.
The same writer furthermore states that the Norway rat, in the summer months, frequents the water, and will attack a large fish in shoal
