Читать книгу The Rat; Its History & Destructive Character - James Rodwell - Страница 18

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 water, and soon master it. Besides, he has known them come out of their holes, and carry away six or seven fine perch, which had been caught and left by the pool side, with the greatest ease:—

“Some time ago my son had just returned from a day’s angling at Hanwell. The fish lay sparkling on a dish for my approbation. He had caught ten, but he informs me that the first three he caught were by far the finest; and in order to have them safe, he threw them on to the grass some few yards behind where he stood; then, after standing for some time quietly watching his float, he casually turned his head, and there were two large rats running away with two of his fish. He directly dropped his rod and pursued them, but they reached the water before him, and dashed in, taking the fish with them, and instantly disappeared. He supposes that one rat first found them, and taking away a fish to his hole, brought his companion to help him with the other two, and so the three finest fish were lost.”

A gentleman was walking alongside a millstream near Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and noticed a common house-rat making its way close by the edge of the water, among the coarse stones that form the embankment. Curious to know what it could be doing there, he watched its progress downwards, until it reached the outlet of a drain. It had scarcely turned into the drain when it made a sudden plunge into the water, and almost as quickly reappeared in the stream with a middle-sized eel in its mouth. It made for the edge, where it regained its footing, and this, from the steepness of the bank, was a matter of great difficulty, which was much increased by the struggles of the eel to get free. Eels at any time, as every angler knows, are troublesome gentry, and very hard to manage; consequently would require all the ingenuity of a rat to cast a knot on one’s tail. But when the rat attempted to get forward, and turn a corner where there was a broader ledge, the desperate efforts of the eel rendered his footing so precarious that, rather than have a second plunge for it, he was reluctantly obliged to drop it into the water. His first action afterwards was to give himself a good shaking, both to revive his spirits and to rid his coat from the effects of his morning dip; and then, as before, he resumed his fishing recreation till he got out of sight,—the stream preventing the observer from following him further.

As some labourers were cutting through an embankment in a field adjoining the river Lune, they met with between fifteen and twenty pounds’ weight of eels, some quite fresh, and others in the last stage of putrefaction. They varied from a quarter to half a pound each, and consisted of the common silver-bellied or river eel, and Liliputian specimens of the conger or sea eel. The latter of course had come up with the tide. As teeth-marks were visible on the heads of most of them, it was conjectured they had been destroyed in that way and stored for winter provisions by some animal whose retreat was not far distant. This proved to be the case, for, on digging a little farther, out bounced a matronly rat with seven half-grown young ones at her heels. The workmen gave chase, and ultimately succeeded in killing both mother and young ones. The embankment is about a hundred yards from the water’s edge; so that it must have cost considerable time and labour on the part of old Ratty to catch and drag the eels thither.

Rats swarm about the small towns in Scotland where the herrings are cured, living amongst the stones of the harbours and rocks on the shores, and issuing out in great numbers, towards nightfall, to feed on the stinking remains of the fish. At the end of the fishing season they may be seen migrating from these places in compact bodies, and in immense numbers. They then spread themselves, like an invading host, among the farms, farm-houses, and stack-yards in the neighbourhood. They again repair to the coast for the benefit of a fish diet and sea air; their wonderful instinct telling them that the fishing season has again commenced.

In the fish-markets of London, and also in the lower order of streets, where fishwomen are in the habit of standing, rats have from time to time been seen issuing forth, after midnight, to eat up the heads and entrails of fish, which the day’s sale had left. Thus before scavengers were introduced, they were of infinite benefit, though their services are now no longer required for that purpose. But about slaughter-houses, knackers’ yards, victualling depôts, drains, &c., their capacious stomachs are still of inestimable value to the population, by consuming all kinds of animal and vegetable refuse, that would otherwise be left in the drains to putrefy, to the great danger of the public health. As to animal substances, rats will gloat over and devour anything, from a delicate chop of house-fed lamb, or babies’ fingers, down to a venison pasty, an old tortoise, or putrid carrion. But with respect to poultry and game of every description, nothing dead or alive, either on water or land, is safe from their rapacity. They will eat anything, from the delicate wing of a roast duckling, young partridge or pheasant, down to the scaly old leg of a centenarian swan. They will likewise consume all kinds of oils and fatty substances, from the purest olive oil to the refuse of whale’s blubber. Nor will they object to soaps, either yellow or mottled, tallow fresh or stale; nor are they very particular, in times of need, as to boots and shoes, or horses’ harness. They will also consume all kinds of tuberous or bulbous roots, from a prize tulip to a mangel-wurzel. I have read also of their getting into churchyards, and eating our departed friends in their graves, as well as infesting the dead-houses on the Continent, where the bodies of strangers or casual dead are taken, for the purpose of being owned and claimed by their friends; but frequently, in a single night, their faces and portions of their bodies have been so completely eaten away by rats, that all traces of identity were entirely obliterated. Thus it appears we are never secure, either dead or alive, from the liability of becoming food for rats.

Notwithstanding the weak and contemptible appearance of the rat, it possesses peculiarities and properties which render it a far more formidable enemy to mankind than even those animals gifted with the greatest strength and most destructive dispositions, such as lions, tigers, wolves, wild cats, hogs, and hyænas. The midnight burglaries undetected by the police sink into in significance compared with the ravages of the rats of the London sewers, which steal and destroy more in one week than the value of all the robberies of plate that blaze away in the newspapers from one year’s end to another. They are one of the greatest animal nuisances that have infested our homes and fields since the days when an English king levied tribute of wolves’ heads upon our brethren of Wales.

Independently of their destroying furniture, &c., they have been known to gnaw the extremities of children while asleep. A child was nearly eaten to death by rats in the City. The parents, it appears, lived on a first floor, and the mother had gone out to market, leaving the child alone, sleeping in the cradle. During her absence the persons on the ground-floor heard the child crying in a most piteous manner, and after some time they went up to see what was the matter. Upon entering the room, they beheld several rats gnawing one of the child’s hands, two fingers of which they had actually eaten off. The child was immediately taken to the hospital, and had the lacerated parts cut away, and fortunately no fatal consequences ensued. The rats are supposed to have effected their entrance from the drain underneath the house communicating with the main sewer, and, but for the timely interference of the occupiers of the ground-floor, there is little doubt the child would have been entirely eaten up. The circumstance at the time occasioned considerable sensation in the neighbourhood; but, like all other rat-exploits, was soon looked upon as a mere matter of course, and then sank into comparative oblivion.

One evening, as a gentleman well known to the theatrical world was seated with his family at the supper-table, they were all at once dreadfully alarmed by the heart-rending and pitiable screeches of his infant daughter, who had been sleeping in the adjoining room. They instantly ran to ascertain the cause of her agonies. At first they saw no visible cause, but on slightly turning down the bedclothes they discovered, to their horror, that blood was streaming from one of her feet, and upon closer examination they found the joint of her great toe most dreadfully lacerated. Of course, medical assistance was immediately sent for, and in the interim their imaginations were strained to their utmost as to how or what could have been the cause of it. While thus pondering, they suddenly saw something moving backwards and forwards beneath the clothes, at the bottom of the bed. The first impulse of the father was, of course, to grasp at it outside the clothes, and squeeze it with all his might; this he did, and held it till it was dead. Then, upon throwing off the bedclothes, they beheld, to their loathing and disgust, an enormous sewer rat. When the medical gentleman arrived, and saw the injured foot, and also ascertained the cause, he resorted to such means as would purify the wound from all poisonous effects, by well cleansing, &c., which happily terminated in nothing more serious than her being crippled in that foot for some time, and wearing the scar as a remembrance. But its mother informed me, that there was no doubt, from the desperate wound inflicted, that had they not instantly run to the child’s rescue, the rat would soon have had her toe off, if nothing worse. This occurrence took place some time since. But now we come to others which have transpired within more recent periods, and of a more dreadful description.

The wife of a labourer, residing near Landor, went out of her cottage, leaving her infant boy, about three years old, asleep on the bed. On her return she heard the child crying vehemently, and upon rushing into the room she saw a large rat busily engaged in biting the little fellow’s face; but on her appearance the animal ran up the chimney. It was found that portions of the child’s flesh had been eaten away, both from the face and one of its thumbs.

The death of an infant six months old took place in Marsh Street, Bristol, from the bite of a rat. Marsh Street is an exceedingly old and filthy street, and lies not only adjacent to the floating harbour, but in the vicinity of numerous warehouses for the storage of potatoes, grain, tallow, oil, and the like; and, as may be expected, many of the houses are infested by rats. The mother, on hearing her infant scream, hastened to ascertain the cause, when she found that her poor child had been attacked in a most ferocious manner. The rat had severely bitten it under the right eye, and marks of the creature’s claws were still visible on its face and neck. There was also a great quantity of blood about the person and clothes of the victim. The mother paid the poor little sufferer all the attention in her power, and a medical man was consulted, but it ultimately died from the injuries it had sustained.

A few years ago, the town of Dowlais was the scene of a most painful and revolting occurrence. Some of the poorer class of houses are infested, to a considerable degree, by rats. A poor working woman having occasion to go from home, put her infant child to bed. Upon her return, and opening the door of the apartment in which her infant lay, she saw three large rats jump from the bed, and, on looking in the direction of her child, she was terrified at perceiving that the bedclothes were stained with blood. She instantly removed the coverlet, when a shocking spectacle presented itself. The rats had mutilated the poor infant and destroyed its life, having eaten away the wall of the belly, and actually destroyed portions of the intestines.

I shall conclude this calendar of infant sufferings and mutilations with one case more, which took place in Dublin, and which is, if possible, more appalling than all the rest. From the testimony of the unhappy mother of the child, which was given on the coroner’s inquest, it appeared that she had committed it to the care of a woman; and it was whilst under this woman’s care that the infant received the injuries which caused its death. Her evidence was to the effect, that on the night in question she fed the child and placed her in the cradle to sleep. She was awoke in the night by the child screaming. Witness got up, and quieted the child, and she went to sleep again. In the morning, at seven o’clock, witness got up, and, on approaching the cradle, found the child and the clothes about her all over blood. On her lifting the clothes off the cradle, two huge rats jumped out, and ran under the bed. She immediately ran with it to the hospital. According to the evidence of the surgeon, the child, when brought into the hospital, was fast sinking from the loss of blood, and half the inside of the left hand was eaten away, and the right arm was frightfully gnawed, evidently by rats; the face was also torn. Despite of every care, the child sank, and expired that morning from the injuries she had received.

It appears that children are not the only victims, when rats are seized with a craving for human flesh. The following circumstance has been mentioned by various authors. There was a German bishop, by the name of Hatto, whose residence was infested with so many of these animals, that he built a tower, close to the Rhine, for his defence against them. Here he resided; but at last they gained an entrance, and at length killed and ate him.

A few years ago a friend of mine was in Dublin. There was a tradition current, to the effect that some time previously a British officer had come by his death in a most melancholy manner through rats. The account ran as follows. A bosom friend and brother officer of his had died of a fever, and he among others attended the funeral. When the ceremonies were over, and all the mourners had retired, he sought an opportunity of leaving the company, and went alone into the vault to pay a last tribute to his departed friend. Now whether, according to the custom of the country, he had partaken a little too freely of whisky, and therefore fallen asleep, or whether he was so completely absorbed in devotional supplications for the welfare of the soul departed, nothing has transpired to determine. But suffice it to say, that in the evening the gravedigger came, and never supposing for a moment that any one was there, closed up the entrance of the vault, and so fastened him in. On the following morning, upon the soldiers gathering, and the muster-roll being called, he was found absent, and being one of the most regular in his attendance, it caused an inquiry as to who had last seen him; but no one had set eyes on him since the evening before. This caused some uneasiness among his friends, since they knew of his devoted attachment to the deceased officer. They called at his lodgings, and ascertained that he had not been home all night. That caused a hue and cry, when the thought suggested itself to some of his friends to have the vault searched. The gravedigger was soon sought for and found. On opening the vault, there lay the missing officer a corpse, and so miserably gnawed and mangled by rats, that, but for his uniform, they could scarcely have identified him. But on further examination some dead rats were found, and were supposed to have been killed by random cuts with his sword in the dark, since that instrument is said to have been found by his side besmeared and clotted with blood and fur. Now whether he died from fright or exhaustion, or from both, or whether the rats in a body followed him up and killed him, will remain to all time a mystery.

About forty years ago there was a pie-maker of Leith who met with his death through rats. It appears that he had gained great repute for his peculiar meat-pies, which were considered both good and cheap. He was an industrious man, and acquired a large connection. It was his invariable custom to make his meat-pies over-night, so as to be ready for the morning’s baking. But for some time past he had found the meat taken out of the pies in the night-time. Thus matters went on till pies and all went. This so puzzled him, that he resolved upon making his pies as usual, and stationing himself in the bakehouse in the dark to watch for the thieves. This he did. On the following morning the neighbours were stirring, but his shop remained shut; they concluded he had been awake all night, and was having a morning’s nap, and therefore would not disturb him. Midday came, and still his shop was shut. At last his customers began to muster for their pies; and sundry inquiries were made as to what had become of the pieman. At last they burst open the door; still no pieman made his appearance. They then searched the house all over, but to no purpose. At last they went into the bakehouse, and there they found him on the floor, a corpse, with his face, hands, and body most frightfully gnawed away. The bystanders were perfectly horror-stricken, and could form no idea as to what could have so cruelly maltreated him. At length one of them passed out into the yard, and there lay a large wooden pump which had belonged to an old ship. He saw a rat pop out at the further end, which, as soon as it saw him, popped back again. This threw some light upon the mystery, and quietly searching, they found that where one end of the pump came against the outside of the bakehouse the rats had made a hole, and so got access to the interior of the bakehouse. They then set quietly to work, and stopped both ends of the pump tight up, and so fastened all the rats tight in. Then all the pots and kettles in the neighbourhood were set to work for boiling water, and after boring sundry holes in the upper side of the pump, they poured in the boiling liquid, one kettle after another, till they scalded all the rats to death; and upon turning them out, it is said, there were hundreds. Now whether the pieman, like the young woman of Paris, died from fright, and was gnawed before he was cold, or whether the rats attacked him in a body and killed him, will remain to the end a mystery.

There lived lately in Clerkenwell a woman aged 63, of rather eccentric habits. Not having been seen for some days by her neighbours, suspicion was aroused, and upon her room being entered, her lifeless and putrefied corpse was discovered lying in the middle of the apartment; the face, neck, and other parts of the unfortunate woman’s person having been so awfully mutilated by rats as to be hardly recognizable.

From many striking instances, it appears very clear that rats are creatures of impulse, for frequently they will pass by a thing without caring for, or even noticing it, when at another time they will seize upon it with the most ferocious daring, and devour it with avidity; nor are they very particular, in the absence of anything tender, at trying their teeth with something tough. For instance, the author of “Gleanings of Natural History” gives an account of an old tortoise. But before I relate this circumstance I may as well give an account of the rats of the Cape of Good Hope.

A gentleman residing in London, wrote to the “Gentleman’s Magazine” to the following effect:—“In the course of his life, public service had carried him several times to the Cape of Good Hope, where it struck him as a strange fancy in every family, to see a small land-tortoise in the inclosed yard, behind the offices of the house. For some time he looked upon the animal as a universal pet; but at length he was undeceived, by being told that they were kept for the purpose of keeping away the rats, which would never approach any place where a land-tortoise was harboured.”

So much for the modesty of the Cape rats; and I might say also the rats of Calcutta, for Mr. Jesse says, that, while on the tortoise, he may as well mention that Captain Gooch informed him that when he was at Calcutta, he was told that a tortoise which had belonged to, and had been a great favourite of, Lord Clive, when he was Governor-General of India, was still living. He went to see it, and as no one seemed to take any interest in the creature, he procured it with little difficulty, and brought it to England. But before he left Calcutta he made every inquiry as to the probable age of this tortoise, and ascertained, from a variety of corroborative circumstances, that it could not be less than two hundred years old. On his arrival in England, Captain Gooch had the old tortoise put into the coach-house, at his seat near Clapham Common. There for a short time it did well; but one morning, nothing was found of it but its shell, the poor old tortoise having been killed in the night, and devoured by rats.

Mr. Jesse relates an extraordinary instance of the sagacity and foresight of rats, and, wonderful as it may appear, he says it may be relied upon, for he received it from a person of the strictest veracity, who was an eye-witness to the fact. A box containing some bottles of Florence oil was placed in a store-room which was seldom opened: the box had no lid to it. On going to the room one day for one of the bottles, the pieces of bladder and cotton which were at the mouth of each bottle had disappeared, and a considerable quantity of the contents of the bottles had been consumed. The circumstance having excited surprise, a few bottles were filled with oil, and the mouths of them secured as before. Next morning the coverings of the bottles had been removed, and some of the oil was gone. However, upon watching the room, which was done through a little window, some rats were seen to get into the box, and insert their tails into the necks of the bottles; and then withdrawing them, they licked off the oil which adhered to them.

A friend of the author’s lately received from a kind individual, resident in a foreign country, a package containing a few bottles of salad oil of the most delicious kind, a present which, to say nothing of the respect that was shown to him, afforded him unspeakable delight, being an ardent admirer of this sort of dainty. The bottles, which were carefully sealed, were placed in the apartment allotted for eatables, there to lie safely, as was supposed, till wanted. A few days after, our friend had a great desire to have another look at the present, and so betook himself to the pantry, when he found, to his surprise and indignation, that a nice little hole had been made in all the bungs, and some of the contents extracted from each of the bottles. There was something incomprehensible to him about the matter. He could understand how a cork or bung might be eaten through by rats or mice, but how they could manage to get at the contents was a mystery, the hole being too small to admit the head of either of these animals. Determined to ascertain who the delinquents were, and the means used by them to effect their purpose, he secreted himself one night in a corner of the room, and soon a fine glossy rat made its appearance; approached the box with a fortitude unknown to rational depredators on a similar errand, poked his tail into one of the bottles, then drew it gently forth and licked it clean, and so repeated the process over and over again till he had had his fill.

At a place in the neighbourhood of Manchester, where a station has been abandoned and the old wooden hut removed, a gentleman lately saw an ingenious and novel theft committed, and allowed it to be completed without molesting the robber. He happened to be standing quietly by, when he saw a fine sleek rat come from beneath the old station office, and walking deliberately up to a carriage that was standing off the line, clambered up a spoke in one of the wheels to the box wherein the grease was kept; and, as if regularly trained to the office, with one of his fore-paws he raised the spring-lid, and there held it while he looked round to see if any enemy was at hand; then, seeming satisfied that all was safe, he forthwith plunged his nose and whiskers into the grease, which we believe is composed of palm-oil and tallow, and which he seemed to eat with as much relish as an alderman would the green fat of a turtle. But from time to time he drew out his head to see that all was right, still holding up the spring-lid with his paw, and as he felt satisfied that all was secure, he again plunged into the grease, and so on till he had had his fill; after which he let fall the lid, and quietly and steadily returned to his abode. This rat, I think, showed as much cunning and sagacity as the rats that put their tails into the oil-flasks; but still it is a matter that will admit of discussion.

I have seen and nursed the wonderful little dog Tiny, which, for its size, was the greatest rat-killer the world ever produced; at least, we have no records of any dog coming near it. He used to lie for exhibition on a crimson cushion, placed upon the table in the bar-parlour, with mould candles on either side, so that the customers and the curious could see him from the front of the bar. Just above where he lay there stood a shelf; and upon this shelf, the wife of the owner of the dog, on one occasion placed a paper bag containing four pounds of lump-sugar. In a day or two there was a call for sugar; away she ran to reach down the four pounds; when, to her utter astonishment, the bag was empty. She, however, soon discovered the cause; a rat had drilled a hole through the wainscoting just behind the bag, and thus carried away every lump of the sugar. This certainly was a theft of great daring on the part of Master Rat, considering it was perpetrated within a yard of the notorious Tiny, the great enemy and destroyer of the rat tribe.

Now that we have seen their liking for sugar in its most refined state, let us see what relish they have for saccharine, or, more plainly speaking, sugar in its rawest state.

In the “Natural History of British and Foreign Quadrupeds,” the author tells us that a gentleman had an estate in Jamaica much infested with the native rat, which I have been informed is a very pretty little animal, but to which he had a great dislike; and, as the author says, he imported, at great cost and trouble, a large and strong species to exterminate them. The rats he imported were, I suppose, our common brown rats, as I know of no others that would have answered his purpose so effectually, or carried matters to the extent which it appears they have done.

We are told that these rats went far beyond his expectations or wishes; for, after disposing of the native rats, they extended their hostility to the cats, and killed them also; and thus got rid of two enemies at once.

In no country is there a creature so destructive of property as the rat is in Jamaica—their ravages are inconceivable. One year with another, it is calculated that they destroy at least a twentieth part of the sugar-canes throughout the island; but this is not all—they prey upon the Indian corn, and on all the fruits within their reach, as also roots of various kinds, and indeed anything that is digestible. Some idea may be formed of their immense swarms from the fact, that on a single plantation no less a number than 30,000 were destoyed in one year. Traps of various kinds are set to catch them; poison is sometimes resorted to for killing them; as also terriers and ferrets sometimes to hunt them out; nevertheless their numbers seem undiminished, so far at least as can be judged from the ravages they commit.

It is a fact well authenticated, that rats prefer mild Wiltshire breakfast bacon, to lean, salt Irish; and as for hams, in the absence of prime Westphalia, they have no objection to put up with good Yorkshire. Then their liking for cheese is so well known that it requires but few remarks to substantiate it. As regards this article, the stomachs of rats are of a most accommodating character. They are not particular whether it be Stilton;—good old Cheshire, or Gloucester, single or double, all are equally welcome; or, in the absence of more fancy cheeses, they have no objections to finish off their meal with a piece of dumpling Dutch.

I have been informed by cheesemongers, that rats will frequently drill holes through the flooring beneath large Cheshire or other cheeses, and then eat their way into them, and thus they will frequently consume pounds and pounds in a night or two; nor is it an uncommon occurrence, they tell me, to find a large cheese with the inside scooped entirely out, leaving the rind a mere empty worthless shell.

I have heard a curious instance of seven rats working a Cheshire cheese-trap for their own destruction. It has been remarked by an eminent physician, that great eaters dig their graves with their teeth! How far this may be correct, I will leave others to decide; but, certain it was, that the rats I speak of dug theirs with their teeth. Four or five large Cheshire cheeses were placed on each other in a storeroom, and the rats beneath the flooring drilled a hole through the boards, and so worked and ate their way into the bottom cheese. One night, however, it appears that, while they were busily engaged, the walls of the cheese, which had been rendered so weak and thin by the rats within, gave way, and down came the pile upon them. On the following morning, when the men removed the pile, they found the bodies of seven rats, all of which had been regaling themselves in the bottom cheese, when it fell in and crushed them in the ruins.

It appears from the accounts of several authors, that the rats of England, like the rats of Jamaica, have at times a liking for fruits. A gentleman residing at Battle, states that the renowned Battle Abbey abuts on his neighbour’s garden, where he has a fine Morella cherry-tree growing against the wall. For some days past he had missed great numbers of cherries from his tree, and could not detect the thief. But at length, walking one day at noon, he saw a house-rat deliberately biting the cherries off by the stalks, and taking them away to a hole in the wall. This is a most extraordinary occurrence, as, the cherries being bitter, one would have imagined that they would be far from palatable.

I have been informed by several butchers in Newgate market, that rats are the most troublesome creatures they have to contend with; that every day in their lives all the meat they have left on hand, must be hung up out of their reach, or, in the night, they will so mangle and drill it, that nothing after can be done with it except for sausage-meat. It matters little whether it be mutton, beef, pork, veal, or lamb; to them all are the same. Nor is it always safe from them even when hung up; for if there be any possibility of clambering or jumping up, they will have it; and though we are apt to view them in a most mean and contemptible light, nevertheless they are epicureans in their way, for, should a hind quarter of beef by any accident fall or be left upon the blocks or benches, they will not eat the leg or shin—oh, no! but will plunge vigorously into the softer parts of the rump or sirloin, and thus destroy the most valuable joints.

On the whole, it seems perfectly clear, that in a colony of rats, various portions of them possess different likings and dispositions, and classify themselves accordingly. Hence it is, that in the spring one party will betake themselves to the fields, a second to the hedges and ditches, a third to the water-side, and a fourth to the game-preserves; while a fifth will remain at home in the farmsteads to the great annoyance of the good dame and her daughters. But even in the same individual animal, its likings and dispositions will vary according to circumstances. In the autumn, however, nearly the whole tribe come to one opinion, and resolve to return to the barns and ricks for winter quarters.