The rat living in a house prefers warm, soft quarters, and invariably gets within comfortable distances of stoves, ranges, heaters, steam-pipes, etc. This is a very dangerous habit, because his nest is always constructed of inflammable materials. At times he also lugs matches into it, and then if the steam-pipes should become overheated, the matches blaze up and spread the flames. We have read in the newspapers of a great many fires afterwards found to have been caused in this way. The rat's nest is made of black and colored silk, of linen, woolen and cotton materials, bits of canvas, dirty rags, fur, silk stockings, and antique lace of much value jumbled together with string and crumpled paper. In one instance we knew of a rat to make use of a building material more out of the ordinary run than these, as it consisted simply of fifteen hundred dollars in greenbacks that had been put under the carpet of a room for safe keeping, and which was afterwards found in mutilated fragments, thatched together, forming this queer old mercenary rat's abode. The rat uses his nest too as a storehouse, and here he lays by quantities of edibles for a rainy day. The writer came across a nest, once upon a time, the sole building materials of which were those undergarments, both masculine and feminine, fashioned so slenderly, but which we dare not mention. This nest contained a peck or so of beans, though in the house where it was built beans had not been stored nor used, the writer found out, for at least three months. Out of doors or in fields the rats' nests are built of hay, leaves, shavings, and wool. The rat is, besides his other praiseworthy qualities, an inveterate old thief, and in decorating his dwelling picturesquely he becomes quite lavish, as gold rings, diamonds, jewels of every value, and gold and silver watches, that had been missed, were found in rat nests. Here they were generally discovered set off with much taste by a piece of salt bag. In one rat's nest I found a set of false teeth in perfect condition. The rat could not have wanted to use them himself, because they were several sizes too big for him. He probably wanted them for a tool-box or jewel-case or some other equally useful object. The writer remembers reading in some odd book of a good-natured person who had discovered a family of young rats in a piano that stood in a room for some time unfrequented. They had made themselves so much at home in the interior of the instrument that the owner was unwilling to disturb them by playing upon it. The female rat probably wanted to get her young to some safe place away from her liege lord, and had succeeded in gnawing up through the leg of the piano. She had brought with her, in which to build a nest, a dirty striped stocking big enough to have belonged to some distinguished Dime Museum fat lady.
Rats love sweet, soft, melodious tones, and a great many experiments have been made in taming rats thereby, but only with indifferent success upon the sharp-witted rodents, in spite of all the pretty stories to the contrary in the reading-books. So high is the rat's musical understanding rated, that there is a proverb among the people that rats immediately disappear from the house as soon as a young lady begins taking lessons on the piano. A mouth-harmonica seems to be the rat's favorite musical instrument, and its gentle strains exert the most power over him, far more than the tones of any other instrument. If the music be soft, mild, and pathetic, the rat will listen and come very near, for he is a very susceptible sort of beast, and, if closely observed, tears of sorrow, or of sad and tender reminiscence, will be seen coursing slowly down his cheeks. But if, on the contrary, the music be harsh, shrill, and discordant, such as would most likely be ground out by beginners, or if it proceed from a brass instrument, or drum, or if it be occasioned by a shotgun report, or explosion, it may drive the impressionable animals from places where they had been used to frequent. If, however, one is unsuccessful in trying to scare off the rats by noise at the first inning, a repetition will be of no avail.
The rat will take up his nest in all and any out-of-the way places, as he shuns the light and lives wholly in the dark and gloom. This is the cause of his poor sight; he can hardly see at all in the daytime, and in the night a little better. If you should meet with a rat by day, looking square in your face, depend upon it he isn't able to see you at all, in spite of the pretty gleam in his black eyes. His minutely acute ears, however, do him good service instead of eyes, so that he has very little occasion to miss the latter at all.
The rat is generally very timid, and extremely nervous, the slightest disturbance repelling him and making him shrink into obscurity and shadow. Yet it is his great peculiarity that he can adapt himself to any extremity of climate or description of place; he is found making himself at home in hotels, factories, public gardens, and other haunts of loud and constant noise, bustle, and confusion.
The Lord in making the rats is imputed to have done so to have them serve as scavengers for his wandering, wasteful tribes of children. But in our own day, as the majority of us do not wander, nor have wandered continually for the last two or three thousand years or so, and have slapped up many supposedly permanent villages like London, New York, or Paris, the restless, ambitious rat took into his head not to limit himself to such dirty kind of work exclusively. He then formed the resolution, and further carried out the purposes of his creator by taking upon himself the philosophic office of keeping man's pride in check. This he did by literally chipping a large proportion of the gilt off man's earthy grandeur, and by destroying his works and belongings at every possible opportunity, with right hearty good-will and much perseverance. "Therefore," says a writer, "whatever man does, rat always takes a share in the proceedings. Whether it be building a ship, erecting a church, digging a grave, plowing a field, storing a pantry, taking a journey, or planting a distant colony, rat is sure to have something to do in the matter; man and his gear can no more get transplanted from place to place without him, than without the ghost in the wagon that 'flitted too'."
In the merry days of old, rats were regarded as undisputed signs of witchcraft, and even scholars acknowledged this—at least they were compelled to, by the help of a blazing pile of faggots, or similar mild means known only to the good old times. What caused this belief among the people was, that an animal appearing to them so small should be the cause of such intense and continual annoyance to them. There was no barrier through which the rat could not effect its way to get at a certain object, thanks to its wonderful powers of gnawing. It was so omnivorous, ferocious, and destructive, that the people endowed the rat with superhuman qualities, and regarded it as a true child of the Devil, put upon this earth to be always pestering them. In regard to the rat's superhuman qualities, it appears to have certainly displayed more reason and acuteness, fighting in the daily battle of life, than any one of these thick-skulled humans could lay claim to. It was looked on with a great and most unreasonable aversion and loathing, born of superstition and fear, and which we find vehemently expressed in all the ancient books on the subject. This feeling, we cannot help believing, is not dead yet, according to the astounding anecdotes brought forth and widely copied in a great many of our American newspapers. The facts and data given in these learned articles about the rat's size, weight, and habits, in general, would make his hair stand on end with horror if he were to read them. As a matter of fact, the ordinary brown rat, which we find everywhere near man, is a pretty black-eyed, softly robed, and delicately constructed little animal; and although his fur may be plainly colored, like the plumage of the sparrow amongst birds, yet it is of the finest texture, and, when possible, is always kept scrupulously clean. In solitary captivity he is continually sitting on his haunches, cleaning his fur like a cat; and the writer has found, by actual experiment, the weight of twelve full-grown, well-fed New York city rats to amount to exactly twelve and a half pounds.
Formerly, in European countries, there was a general belief in the existence of strange and mysterious relations between this great slimy monster and the high-priests of witchcraft and sorcery. It was thought that this was the animal best adapted to carry out the diabolical plots of his Satanic majesty. In one part of Norway, the peasants used devoutly to hold a fast day once a year, trusting thereby to get rid of the pests of rats and mice. They had a Latin exorcism which they used on these occasions, beginning with the words, "Exerciso nos pestiferos, vermes mures," etc. Anything a rat left its trace upon was an omen of ill to the owner; and when by any chance a rat was ever seen on a cow's back the poor animal was doomed to pine slowly to death in consequence. In Ireland it was believed that premises could be rid of rats by reciting a rhyme over their holes, which was commonly called "rhyming rats to death."
But since these times the people have succeeded in getting rid of a great quantity of superstition attached to the subject. It has also been learned gradually that the actions of the rat are prompted much more by natural than by diabolical instinct. However timorous and innocent looking we have found the rat to be upon impartial observation, yet his is a case of wolf in sheep's clothing, for he is the one of the whole brute creation that does the most undermining damage in every way to the homes, workshops, counting-rooms, store-houses and cultivated fields and acres of man. The rat is also at times his very ferocious personal enemy. The rat's code of morals will be found rather deficient, as we have tried to explain in the preceding rambling remarks. In fact, there are condensed in this small animal all the vices of the animal world. We have shown him in the pleasant light of a cannibal briefly making an end of all family ties by transferring his relatives down his stomach. We have traced a faint outline of his great food greediness and his intemperance in strong drink, which is pretty near up to the human standard. We have pictured his strong liking for the hot blood of man and his utterly lacking an organ of veneration, digging up man's bones from their final resting-place to have them serve as food.
The strongest weapon the rats have against man, ranking even above their wonderfully constructed teeth, are their prodigious multiplying powers, "and," says Richardson, "if the rats were suffered to increase in numbers, unchecked, the time would not be far distant when the entire globe would but suffice to furnish food for their rapacious appetites to the exclusion of the human race." The only way man can hold his own against their mighty ravages and prevent his whole social organization from being undermined by them, is to wage a steady and unrelenting war, by the help of his own arts and the animals specially assigned by nature to do service for him as police, against the most bloodthirsty, cruel, and acute of enemies.
There are four distinct methods of rat extermination, viz.: 1. Traps. 2. Poisons. 3. Cats, Dogs, and Ferrets. 4. Human Rat-catchers. We will first give some practical hints on
The rat is by no means one of the least intelligent of quadrupeds, and there is one thing we feel solid about—when he knows you really want to trap him he'll do his level best to avoid your kind intentions. There are shoals of ingenious rat-traps with plenty of mechanism in them which are certainly good as long as you don't plainly advertise them to the rats, which is about equal to saying "Look out, rats, this is a trap for you, with a bait!" After you have put out this charitable notice nary a rodent will you catch. We will now show how most simple people, after catching a lone specimen, give themselves "dead away," to speak classically, to all the rats there are in the neighborhood. Get a trap, no matter of what shape, material or brand—but by all means get one that doesn't let the rat out again after he has been once caught. Bait it with anything nice and tempting, and put it near the rat-hole, just where they come out, any time before you go to bed. In the morning you probably find you have caught a rat—maybe a big, grizzled old fellow with a scabby tail, or else a young one, half frightened to death—anyway it is a rat, and a real live one at that, and you can forthwith proceed to kill him. Now clean your trap and smoke it out. Bait it again with the same care and, hundred to one, you find—no rat. The mystery of it is this: The first rat that came out of the hole on the first night saw you had put down something for him, so he sniffed the dainty bait and remarked under his breath that he was a devilish lucky dog and that he had struck a superior sort of a free lunch all to himself. With that he entered—the trap snapped harshly and cruelly, and the nervous little animal became frightened and sought to escape from his seeming abode of luxury. He couldn't get out, squealed long and plaintively, and worked hard against the sides of his prison. Bye and bye all the other rats came out to see the cause of all the racket. After investigating they find their young friend has been dolefully sold, and together make and keep a vow to steer clear of your traps ever afterwards. This is why you catch but one rat and no more; for a much more stupid and less nervous animal than a rat is would keep away from a similar arrangement in the future. We shall now try the experiment over again, but in a different fashion. Suppose we select a big round trap with falling doors at the sides and a hole on top. First be sure that the doors lift up and fall down very easily. If the bottom of the trap is of wire place it on sawdust, so that the rats are comfortable in it. Put the trap away from the hole, near the wall of the cellar, if in winter near the warmest place, always in a dark spot. As our friend likes comfort so much, put a bag over the trap, so that he can find the falling doors easily. Get some rags scented with about fifteen drops of either oil of rhodium, oil of carraway, oil of aniseed, or a mixture of these oils. First tie a string around them and swab them around the rat-holes, then drag them on the ground near the wall, to the place where the rat-trap is and rub the rags well over it, then put them in. Have some nice tempting bait in the trap, either carrots, meat, broiled bacon, or cheese—anything fresh will do—but be careful to put in enough of it. If the trap is placed as we have above directed the rat will get in and not try to escape. Make the trap as much unlike a trap and as much like a natural hiding-place as possible. If this is done, it is highly probable you will have your cage chock-full of rats the next morning. It is very seldom this fails, but if it should not succeed the first night proceed as follows: Put the trap exactly as I have told you, with the exception to tie up the sliding doors. Let it stand there until the rats have eaten it out several times, replacing the bait. After the rats get used to frequent the place and think they have a "soft snap" on you, let down your falling doors again and you have them all!
After all is said and done, the most practical of all rat-traps is my little "Special Steel Trap," which catches one rat at a time, but its cost is so reasonable that you can have a dozen of them for the price of one of the big wire ones. It is an utter impossibility for the rats to avoid being caught if the traps are properly placed, and it can, with ease, be so nicely adjusted that the gentlest touch of a rat's paw will insure his immediate capture. And when Mister Rat has put down that little paw of his he is as securely held as if he were nailed to the floor. I have over ten thousand of these traps in use in my professional rat-exterminating operations and sell barrels of them. The larger the space to be covered the more traps are required, and, where it is possible, remove your rat as soon as caught. Place the traps in the natural run of the rats; around swill-barrels, along the walls, etc. Its chief practical beauty is its innocent appearance, as there is nothing about its placid surface which tells the rats of its unerring aim. With every trap we furnish a chain-attachment and fastener; the latter is for the purpose of securing it to the flooring and prevents the rats from dragging the trap. As this Special Steel Trap is a boon to large institutions, ships, shops, factories, stores, hotels, office-buildings, flat-houses, warehouses, private dwellings, slaughter-houses, etc., etc., I quote the following prices on it, which are net:
| Per dozen | $3.00 |
| Per hundred | 20.00 |
The common rat poisons are Arsenic, Strychnine and Paris-green. These are put up by enterprising people under a multitude of suggestive names, without specifying the kind of poisons used, however, or even a warning of their being poisonous, as the law implicitly directs. There is, indeed, a great deal of criminal negligence in the way these poisons are put upon the market, as in some the proportion of poison is so great that it would kill an elephant—whereas it should be exactly graded to the rat's capacity. The proportion of arsenic in one very-much-advertised rat-poison now in use, as analyzed by Dr. Otto Grothe, a Brooklyn chemist, consists of 98.19 per cent. pure arsenic and 1.81 per cent. admixtures (coal, etc.). Would-be suicides and murderers have made use of these poisons extensively. Poisons in powdery form—such as arsenic and strychnine—are liable, very easily, indeed, to get mixed up with food, and have in that way been a powerful death-dealing agency. Their peculiar effect on the rats is to allow them to get over-doses, causing violent vomiting, followed by complete failure to kill or drive out. The Phosphoric Paste, the "Sure Pop" brand of which is very carefully manufactured by the present writer, is free from all of these objections, as it is in salve form and very hard to be accidentally mixed up with edibles of any kind. It is impossible for the rats to receive overdoses of it; and the phosphorus has the effect of burning and irritating them internally and forcing them to run for fresh air. Arsenic and strychnine rat-poisons are usually prepared in such heavy quantities that the rats prematurely die in the holes. On the other hand, the amount of actual poisonous matter in this "Sure Pop" Phosphoric Paste has been exactly proportioned to the rat's system, making the amount of poison very slight. There is no secret at all in the compounding of this preparation, but it requires much experience and study of the rat's nature, preferences and habits to make it so that it will work with proper effect. The utmost daintiness is also required in the handling of all its ingredients. We have practically shown on page 40 how the smell of phosphorus is the most powerful of attractions known to the rat, and how it will operate when everything else fails.
The claims of cats as one of the rat remedies we shall have to dismiss in very short order, as the exceptional cases in which they do good work are altogether too few and far between. The only domestic animal which really possesses value in hunting rats is the ferret, as, by reason of its india-rubber joints, it can pursue its prey home. Any terrier—no matter what variety—having a fair amount of intelligence can be broken in with ferrets, so that your ferret can do the hunting out and the dog—at the proper moment—can do the killing. The fox-terrier is by far the best ratting-terrier. He is quick, understands and remembers what is taught him, is full of ambition, and readily learns to regard the ferrets as his partners in the rat-hunt.
The directions given with each of the remedies advocated by me are so plain that anyone can successfully put them into use. Where the rats have got altogether too thick, or where they hold possession of a place in such a way that there appears no clue to dislodging them, it is quite advisable to call in an expert. To this effect I have perfected a regular system of rat-exterminating in which the remedies I mention in this book are systematically applied—under my own superintendence—by a corps of experts. Through this improved system I am enabled to take contracts to exterminate rats (and also other vermin) from any kind of building in any city or town in the United States, providing the job is large enough. Correspondence on the subject given prompt attention.
We have stated, in the first chapter of this book, that the verb "ferret" is derived from the animal of the same name, but many savants, and even "plain people," as Lincoln said, have cudgeled their brains trying to trace from whence the animal has derived its name. After long and tedious delving into histories and musty tomes having even the slightest bearing on the subject, we are able herewith to enlighten these gentlemen. For this illumination they have long been waiting, we have no doubt, with the utmost anxiety and impatience. This requires us to go at length into the matter, and entails upon us the writing of the ferret's development from prehistoric times until merged into the animal of to-day, with its present shape, instincts, and habits. In the course of the essay we also prove conclusively that the animal originally comes from America. Many scientists will no doubt deem it peculiar to find us using many modern and untechnical terms in the following history, but let them rest assured that if we were to make use of our extensive scientific knowledge of the subject it would compel them to hunt up all the lexicons that had ever been compiled!
In the very good and very old days before our present reckoning, when mankind sported tails and was protected against the wind and weather by a long, hairy covering, and when both animals and man had a language of their own—in those times it was that two fair-sized buck Martens, one of the Beech and the other of the Stone species, stood on the southern point of what is now called Cape Farewell, in Greenland, longitude 30° 30´ east, latitude 60° 2´ north. They trembled violently from excitement, because they had just finished a friendly set-to of 64 rounds, lasting 3 hours 10 minutes, New York time, and which both had so far survived. The referee, an old good-natured fox, saw with his keen off-eye that there was no more fight in either of them, and pronounced the battle a draw, telling them to try it again on some future day, whereupon he speedily took his departure, as he was very busy just at that time umpiring base-ball games. The contestants then shook forepaws, a custom which has survived the centuries, and after a little cold water and rest had restored them they mended their broken friendship and made solemn pledges not to try harming each other any more. They further made a bargain to set up a business firm, which meant in those days, as it does now, division of spoils. In the language of that time the Beech Marten was called Ver, and his partner, the Stone Marten, Rect, therefore the firm was called "The Ver and Rect Bill-of-Fare Improving Co." This title explains part of their object in making the trip described in the following pages. The other agreements were to do it in perfect harmony, and at the end of their pilgrimage to stick forever by that particular diet that had suited them best. They were both very glad of their compact, because each one had formed a high opinion of the other's powers evidenced in the pummeling of one another's ribs. Talking things over leisurely, they found themselves getting hungry, and as their stomach was and is yet the Mainspring of their actions, they resolved to start immediately on the expedition. After they had traveled 48 hours due south-east (a direction which they instinctively followed all through their wanderings) they had the good luck to stumble upon a small but very fat pig, snoring comfortably on the banks of a river, known then as the Atlantic river, but since developed into the ocean of the same name, a further account of which is given further on. Ver and Rect found the stream about the size of our present Hudson as it flows by Weehawken. The partners accordingly killed the pig without much bother, ate it, and took a short nap (for those times) of three days, and after waking they stretched themselves, hopped around, and took a drink from the river, but no sooner had they swallowed a little of the water than they commenced spitting, spluttering, and twisting their faces into all shapes, as the water was very salt and brackish. Eating the very fat pig and drinking the salt water had not agreed with Ver and Rect, and they put down the following on the tablets of their minds for future reference: "Fat pig bad feed—salt water ditto." Hence all their descendants, right up to this day, never indulge in pork or use salt at all.
Ver, who wore spectacles, then took the reckoning, and found they had just traveled 1910 prehistoric miles, quite a distance for those days. The firm resolved lazily to start again, and after yawning a good deal, and lying in the sun a little while longer, they still felt unpleasant fat-pig and salt-water sensations. They paddled across the Atlantic river, and by the time they had arrived on the other side they had no objection to lunching again, and as fortune seemed to favor them, they spied in the distance a very big woodchuck. After an exciting chase, Ver and Rect captured him, and at first devoured him with vim. The poor Martens, however, were doomed to disappointment, for when they had bolted their prize and had taken their usual nap of three days, they woke up with great pains in their much-abused interior departments. They thought the woodchuck business over carefully and made this inward memorandum: "Woodchuck may be very good, but we prefer lead-pipe."
Four days after the feast of the woodchuck, wandering on rather discontentedly, they were suddenly delighted by a wonderful change in the climate, that had previously been harsh and cold, but was now mild and radiant. Birds were singing from beautiful trees, Nanny and Billy goats, and sheep were gamboling about cheerfully. Lions and wolves were doing a thriving business, and, just like the bulls and bears of to-day, were all living on the poor lambs. The Martens wandered about a mile through this happy land, and in course of time, bethinking themselves of their sacred mission, they fell to work on a Billy goat, who was slain, after a hard fight, as an offering to their great god, The Stomach. It is evidenced by our records that this goat must have been a huge animal, for Ver and Rect lived three days on his carcass, although at the end of this time they felt rather sick. The entry in their inward journal was as follows: "Disgusted with Billy goat; hopes of finding our steady feed very gloomy." Rect began to feel discouraged, but Ver cheered him up, saying unto him: "Rec', I have a feeling within my bones which tells me our promised land of Good Feed draws near. Brace up thy suspenders, and let us be of good mien and travail onward, for there is no philosopher on earth of a cheerful temper with his belly unhinged." Verily, after a two days' journey, they observed, to their joy, right on their road, a great mountain overgrown with timber and underbrush. Upon reaching it, they found it full of game of all kinds, some of which they began to attack immediately. Among others they caught a little, delicate gray rabbit, and after critically tasting its flesh, were delighted with its flavor. They thought now they had found a solid bill-of-fare material, and made arrangements for staying in the place by digging themselves comfortable beds under the roots of a big tree. There was such an abundance of these delicious rabbits that Ver and Rect concluded they had enough of a wandering life, and that the mission of the "Bill-of-Fare Improving Co." was fulfilled. They called the land, on account of the great number of these little animals, Engelland, meaning the land of the Engels, or angels, at present England. Having kept bachelor's hall for awhile under the big tree, they formed the acquaintance of some of their rich neighbors, who were very kind to them, and whom the Martens found to be relatives of theirs. To Ver and Rect's former pastimes of hunting, eating, drinking (cold water), and sleeping, they now added courting. Ver acquainted himself with a pretty young Miss Weasel, a blonde, and paid her attention, and Rect took fancy to a handsome and stately Miss Mink, a brunette. In two hours after their first courtship—the thing was done quicker in those days—Ver and Rect were married men. They begot children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, who in their turn intermarried into the families of the Sables, the Fitches, and the Ermines, but all the descendants of Ver and Rect went under the name of Ver-Rects, afterwards verrects, until it has been gradually mellowed into our present ferrets. The ferrets now lived in the woods of old Engelland, hunting and eating rabbits and enjoying themselves with all their families on this only ingredient of their bill-of-fare, which Ver and Rect thought of making the permanent ferret food by law. Of course the ferrets grew into the most expert of rabbit-hunters, and they have retained this ability to the present day. Never after they had been in Engelland did Ver or Rect or their descendants subsist on pigs, woodchucks, or billy-goats. One morning a great accident happened, which brought them a different kind of food, consisting of a large army of black rats. The way it happened was this: The earth on which we now live, and which swings around at a pretty good gait on its own axle, broke it right near the north pole and all the waters spilled out there. They overflowed the Atlantic river 1500 miles on each side, and thus formed our present Atlantic Ocean. The high mountain of England was just saved from the water, making it an island, and just then 750,000 live rats swam on shore to save themselves from drowning.
The ferrets killed a few of these rats to experiment upon, and were more than delighted with the tender meat, Ver and Rect making the ferret's bill-of-fare for all ages chiefly consist of rabbits and rats. Sometimes the ferrets went rabbit and sometimes rat-hunting, and were as expert in the one as in the other, and so it is that the ferret of to-day occupies itself, by the mandates of its forefathers, Ver and Rect, in the vigorous hunting throughout all lands of the rat and the rabbit. From whence the rats came before they arrived in England will be found in the next chapter.
Our rats are from China. The proof of this will be found in more particularly observing the rat's looks, vices and nature, the manner in which he carries his (pig)tail, and further, the great love of the Chinaman for him. We contend also that the Chinaman and the rat are relatives, for it can be said of both, as it has been said of one,
So we say positively that the rat is Chinese, and there is no record that can prove the contrary. The rats were kept locked up in that great empire of solid fences before they showed themselves to the other countries of the earth. Forty years before the great Ver and Rect battle, 750,000 big rats, with their tails out straight, like real Chinese pig-tails, concluded to make an exodus out of the heavenly territory, under the leadership of 75 big chiefs. They didn't want to leave particularly, but they were afraid of being starved out altogether, or else murdered for food by the Chinese army. After the rats had put themselves in battle array, and were duly formed in procession, the 75 big chiefs, who were distinguished from the others by their big red noses and muscular forms, held a council. At the end of a three days' session, during which a great many speeches had been made and a good deal of fighting had been going on, a very old political rat-boss arose and made a proposition. His speech was about as follows: "Honored Rats, and fellow-citizens: I have been a rat for a good many years, and don't want to change my business. I must say I like being a rat. But if we are hacked up in soup, or starved out completely, I have my doubts of our staying powers. Countrymen and lovers, this is what we are threatened with, and we must move. Where to? is the question that arises, and I have thought it over. The climate is hot to suffocation and very unhealthy here; let us trust to luck and go west, as a friend of mine said on a similar occasion. 'Go West, young man, go West,' I say unto you now, and I advise you to do so as speedily as possible." This speech was received with "tremendous applause" for the old rat waxed very eloquent, and the "go west" resolution was passed unanimously. An amendment was put in, changing the course to north-west, for the meeting was held during such hot weather, that some of the radicals wanted to start out immediately and settle on the North Pole. They were promptly overruled, of course, and the 750,000 rats, including males and females, wandered on slowly in their chosen direction, increasing on the road to a wonderful extent. The council concluded to hold a thorough count or census of rats, and each male rat, it was provided, should not be bashful about coming forward and giving the true number of his whole family—no doctoring of the returns allowed. After the count was completed, all the rats over and above the original amount, 750,000, agreed to stay in the country they had arrived at. The originals kept on moving towards the north-west, but the others filled up every section of the earth they passed through. The rats made friends with neither man nor animal on their journey. First they made a stop in a state where all the owls—although they were countrymen of the rats, having emigrated from China—fell upon them, and there was a pitched battle, the rats afterwards hiding themselves in their holes under ground after losing a great many in dead and wounded. One day they agreed to make an excursion out of the line of their route and so take in Egypt. In a few weeks they here ate up all the corn from the fields, stealing and hiding away anything edible, and quite creating a panic, but always fighting shy of the daylight. We read in the histories of a great locust plague in Egypt, about this time, but on this point we have a revelation to make. The locust was just as innocent of this crime as it is of building the Brooklyn Bridge—it was the rats that did it. When the rats arrived in Greece they scored a signal victory, because it was there that they extirminated a whole nation—the mice—and the former have strongly held this country ever since. We are authentically informed, by reference to our own private rat historian's notes of this trip, that the first place the rats met their great enemy, the Dog, was in Ancient Rome, where the dogs were put on them by man with much success, and here the rats could get no firm foothold. This caused them a roundabout journey north, and when they thought they had pretty well established themselves in ancient Gaul, now France, they were raided by a strange tigerish kind of animal which proved afterwards a lasting antagonist of theirs—the Cat. The poor rodents found here the other enemies they had encountered on the road, the owl and the dog, who were always urged on fiercely by man. While the rats were struggling along in France, the land was convulsed by an earthquake, causing the Atlantic river's banks to be overflowed. This submerged the land on which the rats were, and as they all could swim they headed their course for England, the nearest dry land. It was here the ferrets joined man, dogs, cats and owls, but the more the rats were hunted, the more acute and crafty they got to be, until they found out innumerable hiding-places and ways of preservation, so we have them still with us to-day. We thus close our story of research, through which we have shown America as the birthplace of the ferret, China of the rat, and England as the first country employing ferrets for rat-hunting.
FERRETS:
SURE POP BREED.
RAISED AND TRAINED
BY THE
AUTHOR OF THIS BOOK.
EVERY FERRET SOLD IS WARRANTED AS
REPRESENTED.
DEPOT—92 FULTON STREET,
NEW YORK CITY.
HOUSES CLEARED
—OF—
RATS
WITH FERRETS,
—BY—
CONTRACT.
DEPOT—92 FULTON STREET,
NEW YORK CITY.
SURE POP
PHOSPHORIC PASTE,
FOR THE
DESTRUCTION OF
Rats, Mice, and Roaches,
MANUFACTURED BY
"SURE POP" ISAACSEN.
PRINCIPAL DEPOT:
92 FULTON STREET,
NEW YORK CITY.
SURE POP
Insect Powder
FOR THE
DESTRUCTION OF
Roaches, Bed Bugs, Ants, Fleas, Flies, Mosquitoes
Moths, Spiders, Scorpions, Centipedes, Plant
and Animal Lice, Croton Bugs, etc., etc., etc.
OWN IMPORTATION AND WARRANTED THE BEST IN THE WORLD.
PRINCIPAL DEPOT:
92 FULTON STREET,
NEW YORK CITY.
SURE POP
INSECT POWDER KILLERS.
This valuable little instrument was patented by me years ago. It is a handly little machine for dusting the Insect Powder around. It is made of vulcanized rubber, having a metallic top.
PRINCIPAL DEPOT:
92 FULTON STREET,
NEW YORK CITY.
SURE POP
Patent Insect Powder Bellows.
Patented April 29, 1884.
Number of Patent, 297,693.
THE ADVANTAGES OF THIS MACHINE OVER ALL OTHERS ARE:
Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including unusual spelling and inconsistent hyphenation.
"skarks' fins" has been changed to "sharks' fins".