it gain its hole. But if you pursue it to desperation, then, like almost every other animal, it will fight for its life; and you, like every other sportsman, must put up with the consequences of the chase. Here we may apply the old adage, which says that if we tread upon a worm, it will turn again.
A few years back I attended a rat-match in London, at which the dog which could kill the greatest number in the shortest time would win the prize. The first man that entered the pit brought in with him a dog, which was as handsome as the man himself was ugly. Time being called, he seized his dog by each side of the face, and, arching his long carcase, was soon in readiness. They now made a curious picture. From the fierce anxiety of their countenances, it became a strong matter of doubt as to which would mouth the first rat—the dog or its master. However, upon the signal being given, away went the dog, first killing one rat, then another; down went the man on his hands and knees, then pounded the floor most furiously, and roared and bellowed with all his might, to urge on the dog. The rats were falling in every direction, when, all in an instant, the man stood bolt upright, with his eyes staring like a madman, and his mouth wide open. But the cause, to the great amusement of all present, soon became apparent. It is the custom for those who enter the pit to tie a piece of string or garter round each ankle, to prevent the rats from crawling up their legs beneath their trousers. He had neglected to do this, and a rat was plainly seen working its way up his body between his skin and his shirt. With maniacal desperation he pulled off his cravat, and, tearing open his shirt, exposed his thin scraggy neck. Presently out came a pretty little glossy creature on his shoulder, and made a spring to the edge of the pit, which it succeeded in accomplishing. Heels-over-head went a dozen or twenty of the lookers on, forms and all; and from the general scrambling, kicking, bustling, and alarm, one might have thought that, had it not been for their hats and boots, the poor little frightened rat would have swallowed at least a dozen of them; but, as it was, the little creature made its escape; and thus were they allowed to return home to their families undigested. Suffice it to say, I have since heard that nothing could ever induce this man to enter the pit again, but that he always pays another to do it for him.
On the opposite side to where the rat made its escape sat an enormous publican, who had laughed most heartily at the discomfiture of his friends. His face was a perfect picture of the sign of his house, namely, the “Rising Sun.” He was lounging carelessly on the edge of the pit, and resting his chin on his thumbs, when in came the second dog,—a fine furious creature. Time was called; the dog set to work, and down lay the rats, one after the other, with a single bite each. Presently one seized the dog by the lip; he gave his head a violent shake, and twirled the rat into the fat publican’s face. To describe his agitation and alarm would be impossible; but, throwing his head back, the rat fell into the bosom of his coat; and, in his anxiety to get it unbuttoned, he puffed, grunted, and blew like a great hog with a bone in its throat; and thus ended his sport for that evening.
Unhappily, however, these rat-frights do not always terminate so harmlessly as in the preceding cases. A friend of mine once informed me that twenty years since his father took a house in Edinburgh, and that after he had taken it, he found, to his dismay, that it was swarming with rats. However, one day, as they were all in the kitchen, where the boards of the flooring were about an inch apart, they were suddenly aroused by two rats, which had commenced a regular battle beneath the boards. My informant told me that his little brother became very much alarmed; when suddenly one of the rats gave a dreadful squeal, and at the same time one of their hind legs and a tail appeared through the cracks, which so frightened the lad, that he sprang to the other end of the place, when it was found, to the great affliction of the family, that he was bereft of reason, or, rather, he had become a complete maniac; nor was it till some weeks had passed, accompanied with sound medical treatment and warm baths, that anything like consciousness returned. However, by degrees he recovered the possession of his faculties; but to this day he is horror-stricken at the bare mention of a rat.
This is only one case out of many thousands that might be mentioned, where consequences infinitely more serious than even this have frequently occurred through this foolish fear of rats.
The “Presse,” of Paris, some time ago related an extraordinary case of death from fright. A young woman was passing near the Rue Cadet, when she suddenly fell to the ground, exclaiming “The rat! the rat!” At first nobody could comprehend the meaning of her exclamations; but on being taken into a druggist’s shop, and placed on a chair, a rat was seen to run from beneath her gown. It was then evident that the rat, which had come from a sewer just as she was passing, had got between her legs, and that, when she fell from fright, it had concealed itself under her clothing. She was taken home to her friends, in a state of delirium, which lasted four days, during which time the only words she uttered were “The rat! the rat!” but on the evening of the fourth day she expired.
Now here was a melancholy occurrence arising out of this immoderate fear of rats. What had the rat done to her? Nothing whatever, except hiding in her clothes, and making its escape as soon as possible. Yet from the veriest fear she becomes deranged, and dies a maniac. I would that every female, and man too, were as brave and resolute as Mary Ann Gymer, who, at the police-office, stated that on the previous morning, while returning from market, the prisoner (whom she had given into custody) came behind her, and placed a live rat on her right shoulder. On turning her head, the creature made a bite at her face; but the instant he let go its tail it sprang to the ground, and made its escape down an area grating. The prisoner stood laughing heartily at the outrage; but such was her indignation at the daring of the fellow, that she ran up to him, and dealt him a most violent blow in the face with her pattens. The magistrate said he was not at all surprised at her inflicting summary vengeance on a man who had behaved so disgracefully towards her. The placing such a thing as a live rat upon her shoulder was enough to alarm her, and upon a more nervous person might have been attended with the most melancholy consequences. The magistrate gave the prisoner a severe admonition as to his future conduct, and assured him that, had it not been for her intercession in his behalf, he most assuredly should have fixed a very heavy fine upon him.
CHAPTER III.
GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF RATS,—THEIR DISEASES, FEROCIOUS CANNIBALISM, NATURAL AFFECTION, &C.
I CANNOT ascertain any disease rats are subject to, except the one we have so much cause to complain of, namely, consumption of food; and for all I have seen, they have, without an exception, been fine fat fellows, with nothing in the shape of disease about them; yet, if kept in close confinement and dirty, then, like every other animal under similar circumstances, they are subject to a kind of surfeit or mange; but in a state of freedom I believe they are subject to no natural malady. Nevertheless they are the finest and most effectual physicians in the world; for should any of their fraternity be mopish and dull from pain or sickness, arising out of accident, old age, or what not, they cure all their maladies at once by eating them up. At the same time they are the most peaceable of all republics, for should any internal quarrels and fights arise, they all gather round the combatants, and no matter who wins or loses, or what the cause of contention, they put an end to the feud by tearing them in pieces, and transporting the pair of them down their throats; and thus is peace most speedily and effectually restored.
This, then, may account for the healthy appearance of rats, since they instantly and so effectually dispose of their sick and ailing; and it may be no stretch of the imagination to infer that few die a natural death; but where such is the case, they will leave all other food to dispose of their dead. Hence has arisen the proverb I have heard, that in barns and ricks dead rats are almost as rare as dead donkeys; though, at the same time, there are instances on record of their filial and parental affection, and attachments as strong as is to be found among animals of any other class, not omitting even the human family; but should we at any time see a dead rat lying about, we may be almost certain that it has been very recently killed by some animal, trap, accident, or poison; but if left where it lies, the morrow’s sun will
