What do you say, boys? Shall we drop this and have a day's outdoor
practice? To tell the truth, I don't think much of book-learning,
especially if the book is written by myself; but I do believe in
practice. Come along! It is the middle of October--just the nicest time
of the year and the very best for ratting, for the vermin are yet out in
the hedges, fine and strong from feeding in the corn, and with few young
ones about. Come, Jack, we'll get the ferrets first; and off I go with
the boy to the hutch, while the dogs in the kennel, having heard our
steps and perfectly understanding what is up, bark and yap at the door,
jump over each other, tumble and topple about like mad fiends. Before I
get to the box I hear the ferrets jumping up at the sides, and when I
open the lid half a dozen are out in a moment, and these I bag as a
reward for their activity. I throw the others a rat to console them for
being left at home, and, giving the ferrets to Jack, I strap on a big
game bag, take up my spade, return and let the dogs out, and off we
start.
Step out quick, Jack; there are three miles to go before we get to work,
and it is 8 a.m. and I expect a big day. Yes, Chance, old lady, a fine
day--a perfect day--a day to make both the feet and the heart light and
every human sense rejoice. There has been just a little frost in the
night: you can see that by the way the elms have spread a golden carpet
under their branches in the lane and by their leaves that yet keep
falling slowly one by one in the fresh, but dead still, air, and by the
smell of the turnips, the fresh stubble and the newly turned earth
behind yonder plough. The sun shines, cobwebs are floating through the
air and get twisted round one's head, and far and near sounds such as a
cart on the high road, a sheep dog barking, a boy singing, birds
chirping, insects humming, the patter of our own feet, and the
whispering of the brook under the bridge, all form part of a chorus
heaven-sent to gladden the heart of man. I have heard tell, Chance, or I
have seen it in a book, or I have felt it myself, I don't quite know
which, that those who in youth have had such a walk as this, and have
heard the music, smelt the perfumes and seen the sights (that is if they
were blessed with eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to take in),
have never forgotten it. The memory appears for a time to pass away
amidst the struggles of life, but it is never dead; to the soldier in
battle, to the statesman in council, or the priest in prayers, to those
in sorrow or in joy or in sickness, there may come, no one knows from
where, no one knows why, a golden memory of such days, of such a walk.
Perhaps it is only a gleam resting but a second upon the mind, and
perhaps leaving it saddened with a longing for days that are past, but
yet I think making one feel a better man, giving one courage and hope,
reminding one that, hard as the battle of life may be to fight, dark and
gloomy as the days may be just now, another morning may arise for us,
far, far more bright and glorious and joyful, one that will not be
shadowed over by a returning night; but then that is only for the brave,
the honest, the truthful--for those who are up early and strive late,
never beaten, never doubting, always pressing forward.
But, come out of that, Wasp! Don't you know that cows kick if you sniff
at their heels? Tinker, old man, keep your spirits up; Pepper, come back
from that wood, for it is preserved. Yes, Jack, I think I'll fill my
pipe again. Baccy does taste good on a day like this; but what doesn't?
I feel like a ten-year-old and as fit as a fiddler. Grindum, give over
blinking and don't look so benevolent. No, Chance, no, old lady, I can't
pull your tail, for you haven't got one. What, Jack, you say I haven't
spoken for the past mile? Well, I suppose I have been thinking, and my
thoughts have not been wholly sad ones. Open the gate; here we are; and
you get over on the other side of the hedge and don't talk or make a
noise, for I can see by the work the rats s-w-a-r-m. Steady, dogs,
steady! And so we start.
The hedge is just what it should be, and if it had been made for ratting
it could not be better. A round bank of soft earth, a shallow ditch with
grass, little bush or bramble, and a gap every few yards. There is a
gateway in the middle, which will make a hot corner later on when
Grindum has taken his stand there; and there is a pipe under the
gateway, the far end of which I shall close. The rats have never been
disturbed, for the runs are as fresh as Oxford Street, and I have
already seen one or two rats run into the hedge lower down from out the
wheat stubble, and, there! that whistle has sent a lot more in. Steady,
Wasp! Well done, Chance; you have marked one in that hole near you, or
more than one, is there? Well, the more the merrier! Stand, dogs, stand!
Are you ready, Jack? And in goes a ferret as lively as quicksilver and
as fierce as a tiger.
For a minute all is quiet; then a slight stir on the other side and two
snaps of Tinker's lantern-jaws, and two rats dead; three others out of a
side hole are killed by Wasp, and three others accounted for by Grindum,
and that fool Pepper is racing and jumping down the hedge a mile off.
Whistle! whistle! and back he comes, and at that moment Jack picks up a
ferret on the other side, it having gone through the hole. Chance sniffs
at it and says it is swept clear, and I block it up with my heel, and
Jack does the same to the bolt-hole, so that if a rat does come back
later on the dogs will have a chance; and then on we go a few yards to
the next hole which Chance marks. This time the ferret went in like a
lion and came out like a lamb, with the blood running out of the side of
its face; and whilst I am examining the bite, a real patriarch rat
bolted at a side hole near Pepper, who strikes at it, misses taking a
proper hold and gets it too far back, and the next moment the blood is
pouring from a bite above his eye; but the rat is dead, and Pepper but
little the worse.
I thought it was too late in the year for young ones, but it was not,
for at the next hole we came to the ferret got into a nest, killed a
lot of young ones and "laid up," and, as I had not a box-trap with me, I
had to dig it out. This took some time, as I lost the hole, and Jack,
whilst down grubbing with his hands, broke into a wrong one in which the
old rat was ready for him, and at once bit him through the end of his
finger. Jack sucked it well and did not mind, but I did not much like
the appearance of things, for in half-an-hour I had had a ferret laid
up, and a dog and a boy bitten badly by rats, and these bites are often
very poisonous. Fortunately this time Jack took no harm and was soon
well. As soon as Jack pulled his hand out of the rat's hole, Pincher put
his long nose in, and all was over in a minute. Soon after I came on the
ferret curled up in a nest of young rats, all minus their heads; and so
that ferret, from being gorged with food, was no more good for work, and
had to be put away with the bitten one.
After this we got on much faster; the holes were close together, and
even with the greatest care lots of rats bolted and went forward, but I
would not allow the dogs to disturb fresh ground by following them. Some
went back, and Pepper and Wasp had a good time, for I let them follow
and work them alone, having stopped all back holes after ferreting them.
Now and then, Jack and I had to go back, as there was an old pollard
tree covered with ivy, and many of the rats got up that, and Pincher had
to be lifted up into the crown to displace them, and then when they
jumped down, three or four at a time, there was a grand scrimmage.
When we had got twenty yards or so from the gateway, Grindum went
forward and stood there and killed a dozen rats that tried to pass, and
a lot more went into the pipe under the roadway. These we left alone,
only after we had passed we stopped up the open end and opened the shut
one, so that in future rats going back might wait quietly in the arch
till we were ready for them. By the time we had got as far as the gate
it was just noon, so we called the dogs back to a tree we had passed,
and then Jack and I sat down and paid attention to the game bag, which
was well provided with cold meat and bread and cheese and a bottle of
beer.
I am not a good hand at picnics and never was. I mean those big
gatherings with ladies, lobster salad, hot dishes, plates, knives,
spoons, champagne, etc. I find the round world was created a little too
low down to sit upon with comfort; my knees don't make a good table;
flies get into my beer and hopping things into my plate. I have to get
up and hand eatables about; things bite me, and more creep about me, and
it does not look well to scratch. The hostess looks anxious about her
glass and plate; someone has forgotten the salt, and some one else the
corkscrew. The host, be he ever so sad, _makes_ fun, and made fun is
magnified misery to me. No, I don't like picnics; I would rather be at
home and feed upon a table; and yet a snack at noon-day, after hard
work, sitting under a tree, with your hands as plates, with a good
"shut-knife," a silent companion and the dogs all round you, _is_
pleasant. Double Gloucester then equals Stilton, and bottled beer
nectar; and then the pipe in quiet, while Jack takes the dogs, after
they have finished the scraps, to the pond to drink. Talk of Havanas!
Well, talk of them, but give me that pipe as I loll, half asleep,
resting against the tree, my legs spread out, and my hat tipped over my
nose. I half close my eyes and go nearly to sleep, but keep pulling at
the pipe, and half unconsciously hear the leaves whispering above, the
insects humming, the stubble rustling, the trembling of a thrashing
machine, and the rush of a train in the far distance. Jack returns from
the pond, throws himself on the ground on his face, kicks his legs in
the air and whistles softly, with the gentle Grindum blinking beside
him. Chance and Tinker lie out full length on their sides and go to
sleep. Wasp stretches on the ground, with her legs out behind her, and
drags herself about with her front feet. Pepper sits down, scratches his
ear, and then dashes at a passing bumble bee, and all becomes a pleasant
jumble of sights and sounds; but, with a start, I recover myself, drop
my pipe, topple my hat off and lose my temper, for that everlastingly
restless, volatile, good-for-nothing, ramshackly beast, Pepper, has been
and licked me all up the side of the face! The dream, the quiet, the
rest is all broken, so, jumping up, I tip my pipe out on the heel of my
boot, give a stretch, grasp the spade, and off we go to finish our job.
For three hours we work our way on, and a line of dead rats on the
headland marks our progress, till at last we reach the bottom of the
field and our bank is done. Pepper has got three more bites, another
ferret is done for by a nip on the nose, and Jack has torn his trousers
and is very dirty; but there is yet the drain pipe under the gate to
attend to, and it is getting on in the day. I cut three or four long
sticks and tie them tightly together, and then to the end of this fasten
a good hard bunch of grass, and back we go to the drain. I go to one end
with Grindum and Pincher, whilst Jack takes the sticks, Pepper and Wasp
to the other end, and gently and slowly shoves the sticks through. Two
venturesome rats bolt at my end and are killed. When the sticks appear I
grasp them and gradually draw the whisp of grass into the drain. It
fits tight and takes some pulling, but it comes steadily along, wiping
all before it. Faster and faster the rats bolt and are killed, and even
old Chance, who began by watching us, gets excited and joins the sport.
Pepper and Wasp dash in for a last worry, which is over in a few
minutes, when twenty-four rats are cast by Jack up on to the bank. Well
done, dogs! well done, good dogs! Woo-hoop, woo-hoop! Good dogs! That's
the way, my boys! Woo-hoop! woo-hoop! And the dogs roll on the ground,
stretch, wipe the dirt out of their eyes with their paws, and rub their
faces in the grass.
Jack goes backwards and forwards and collects the spoil, and we count up
seventy-three real beauties, a few of which I really think should be
fourpenny beasts, they are so big. Never mind, seventy-three rats at
twopence each comes to twelve and twopence--not such a bad day's work;
and, Jack, you shall have a hot supper to-night; and oh, you dogs, you
dogs, think of the supper I will give you! Bones with lots of meat on,
oatmeal and such soup! Think of it, dogs! think of it! And so the work
ends, and all are happy and contented.
Three miles down turning twisting lanes to reach home, Grindum and I
first, then Jack, and the rear brought up by the long and now a little
drooping tail of Tinker. All have had enough; even the volatile
young Pepper trots slowly, and therefore looks ever so much more
business-like.
Before we start the shades are falling, and as we trudge along nature's
evening vespers speak of the closing day. Workmen sitting sideways on
quiet harnessed cart-horses stump past with a friendly "Good night,
neighbour, good night!" Women with children in "go-carts" bustle past
in a hurry to get home and fetch up the supper. Farm horses are drinking
in the pond or browsing on the rank grass at the side; sparrows are
chattering in the old alder bush before going to bed in the ivy on the
church; pigs in the homestead are calling for their supper; the cows
pass us coming home to be milked; rooks fly steadily to the old elm
trees near the Manor; and a robin pipes clear and shrill on the roof of
the shed in the cottage garden. There are partridges calling out "cheap
wheat" in the stubble, and pewits crying on the meadows. Cock pheasants
noisily flutter up to roost in the firs, and the old doctor standing at
his door makes soft music with his violin.
The parson joins us and has a cheery word for all, especially the dogs,
who are all his personal friends; and so we jog on and reach the
village, where the wood smoke rises straight in a blue cloud from the
cottage chimneys, and the fire light sends a ruddy gleam across the
roads. Groups of men and boys stand about resting, little children race
and play, and oh, such a delicious whiff of something stewing, with a
little bit of onion in it, comes from the open door of the village
ale-house! And this reminds us all that our suppers are near, and we
finish the evening's walk quite briskly.
No need to say, "Kennel, dogs, kennel!" All go in of their own accord,
and in five minutes are busy at their savoury-smelling _hot_ supper. The
ferrets are fed and locked up, and then, unlacing our boots at the back
door and kicking them off, the day is done. Supper, rest and quiet, a
pipe, a book, bed and happy dreams are all before us.
"Now, Croker, minor, you will go to the Doctor's study before school
to-morrow. You have been most inattentive, and it is not the first time
I have had occasion to speak to you. You can go now, but don't forget
that this is tub night, as you all have done on the last four occasions.
If I have further complaints on this head from the matron, I shall take
you all out for a long day's rat-catching, so I advise you all to be
very careful." Five minutes later this master is smoking in his room and
says to another master who is doing the same, "I say, Potts, do you know
I think these new lessons on rat-catching are all very well, but I think
they are beyond the capacity of schoolboys. Why, they strain _my_ mind,
and I think they should only be taken up at the universities and during
the last term; and then the boys do so hate them," etc.