Chapter 12

A NEW ROAD TO FAME.

It may have been but my fancy,-- it probably was so,-- but it seemed to me that Oddity felt a good deal the departure of his little human friend. I thought that he missed the lame child who had taken such pleasure in watching him, and who had found beauties even in his ungainly figure and piebald skin. It certainly was not that he needed the crumbs which the half-starved little Billy had stinted himself to throw to him; but I suppose that it is possible even for rats to grow attached to such as show them confidence and kindness. I often rallied poor Oddity upon his melancholy after the boys had been taken away. Bright-eyes told him that he ought to have been a cat, to sit purring on a mat before the fire, and lick the hand of some old maiden lady, who would feed him with porridge and milk. I said that he should be kept in a gentleman's house, with a bell round his neck, as rats sometimes are in Germany, to frighten their brethren away.

Oddity took all our taunts very quietly, nibbled his dinner in the warehouse, but spent most of his time in the shed; where, as he snuffed along the ground, and fumbled amongst the chipping and the straw, we used to say that he was searching for little lame Billy, whom he never would see any more.

Winter at length passed away. Down the roof of the shed, and through the hole in it, ran little streams of water from the melted snow. The west wind blew softly, bending the columns of smoke from the tall chimneys on shore, and the black funnels of the steamers that went snorting and puffing down the river.

On one of the first mild days we found poor old Furry dead in the warehouse. Life had long been a burden to him, which his unhappy temper rendered yet more galling.

I have heard that the rats of Newfoundland bury their comrades when they die, laying the bodies neatly one beside another, head and heels placed alternately together. I do not know whether this be true: it is not the custom of rats in England. We therefore left old Furry where he lay, close behind a barrel of salt meat, where he was discovered the next day by one of the men of the warehouse.

Now, if there be one thing which men usually think more worthless lumber than another, it is the body of a dead rat. Our skins are not in England collected and valued as they are in France; the only thought is usually how to get rid of the unpleasant presence of the dead creature. And yet, strange to say, the porter did not throw away the body of poor old Furry: he carried it off to his master. I was very curious indeed to know its fate; and, after many fruitless inquiries, at length I discovered it.

The tooth which had been Furry's torment in life, was destined to make him famous after death. Learned men-- I know not how many-- examined the head of the rat, looked, wondered, consulted together; and the end of the matter was, that it was placed as a great curiosity in some building which is called a museum. There, amidst fine vases and ancient weapons, old manuscripts and precious stones, and noble busts of the wise and great, is the head of poor old Furry preserved, with the mouth wide open, to display the extraordinary tooth! Fame is a strange thing, after all. I believe that our friend the rat was not the first, nor will be the last, to pay a heavy price for the bubble!

Early in spring, one sunny morn, I received a visit from my old comrade Whiskerandos. He was full of life and spirits.

"Ratto," cried he, "I have often heard you say that you and I should visit foreign countries together; we've a capital opportunity now. A vessel is to weigh anchor to-morrow. I have been talking to a ship-rat of my acquaintance, who intends to sail in her, as he has done so before. He says that she is a capital old vessel, full of first-rate accommodation for rats; that Captain Blake keeps a very good table; that there is never any scarcity of pickings; and, in short, I am off for St. Petersburg, and mean to embark to-night: just say that you will go with me."

"I'm your rat!" I exclaimed, highly delighted. "Would there be room for Oddity too?"

"I daresay that there is plenty of room; but-- well, well, Oddity's an excellent old fellow in spite of his ugly skin; and I'll take care that nobody insults him."

Off I scampered to Oddity, half out of breath with excitement; and giving him the news which I had just received, I begged him to accompany Whiskerandos and myself on a pleasure excursion to Russia.

The piebald one bluntly declined.

"Now this is nonsense, Oddity," cried I; "you must not stay moping here any longer, pining after a child, and watching for his return, when he is never likely to come back."

"I know he will not come back!" sighed Oddity.

"Then why don't you come and shake off this silly gloom? To tell you the plain truth, Oddity, your mind really requires opening, and there is nothing like travelling for that. You are, I am afraid, not a well-informed quadruped. I insist upon your embarking with us to-night, and we'll make a rat of you, my good fellow!"

Oddity shook his head.

"What! you are resolved not to travel?"

"Not by water," was his short reply.

"He is going into the country with me," cried Bright-eyes, springing with a few light bounds to my side. "We're going to my birth-place, near the sea-side. We will feast amongst the young corn there; and when the pea-blossom has faded, and the ripe pods hang temptingly down, we'll climb up the stalks and shell them, and banquet on the sweet green seeds! We'll revel in the strawberry beds, and try which peach is the ripest! Oh! merry lives lead the rats in a kitchen-garden, beneath the bright sun of summer!"

"I've half a mind to go with you myself," said I, charmed with the rural description. But I remembered my engagement with Whiskerandos, and repressed the rising longing to feast upon English fruits, whose names sounded so tempting.

"Then farewell, Oddity," cried I; "I fear I shall never meet you again."

"I'll come back to the old shed in winter," said he.

"But I-- ah! where shall I be then? How do I know, once crossing the sea, whether I shall ever be able to return?" I had not the faintest idea where Russia might be, or what sort of a place I should find it; whether its rats are black, brown, or white, fierce as the Hamster, or gentle as Zibethicus. A feeling of misgiving came suddenly over me; one fear above all others depressed my heart, and unconsciously I uttered it aloud: "I wonder whether in Russia rats find plenty to eat!"

The snub face of Oddity grew very grave at a question which he could not answer, and whose importance he felt. But light-hearted Bright-eyes quickly relieved our apprehensions.

"If we are to judge of what is in Russia by what comes from it," he cried, "I should say that you have little to fear. I examined the cargo of a Russian ship once, and never did I see a finer collection of everything that could charm a rat. I say nothing of the furs,-- skins of all kinds of creatures, sables, black and white foxes, ermines, lynxes, hyænas, bears, panthers, wolves, martens, white hares--"

"Stop, stop!" I exclaimed, "we do not want any furs beyond those with which nature has adorned us."

"There was copper, iron, talc, (a mineral resembling glass--)"

"We don't care about them; no rat ever lived upon minerals."

"Linen, flax, hemp, feathers--"

"If there is nothing more nutritious to be had in Russia, why I'd rather stay at home," cried I, with a little vexation.

"What do you say, then, to oil, both linseed and train-oil? to delicious honey, corn without end, soap, isinglass, and, to crown the whole, hogsheads upon hogsheads of-- tallow!"

"Enough, enough!" I exclaimed with delight, "Russia is the country for me."