SOMETHING ABOUT RATS.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 204, 12 September 1874, Page 2

SOMETHING ABOUT RATS.

“ What if my house be troubled with a rat ?”

—Merchant of Venice. Rats have been the bane of our life; ever since Anna Maria and self started housekeeping, those wretched animals have persistently tormented us. We had indeed hardly installed ourselves in our domicile before the vermin began their gambols. At first, Anna Maria (who is a most sensitive creature) thought they were ponies galloping about the premises, I appealed to her common sense to know if ponies could possible gallop about under a floor and between partitions. To this delicate appeal to her understanding she replied with a boot and said, “ Get a cat!” I did so, and brought home at considerable trouble, with the loss of some skin, more temper, and with the addition of a few bites, a young animal which when let run at large inside the house took cover under a cupboard and obstinately refused to budge except under strong persuasion with a broom handle. This cat instead of frightening away the rats, was so alarmed herself, that she made night hideous with her yells. Next day that cat’s existence was brought to an untimely end by a sad catastrophe ; this stopped the caterwauling but the following morning one of Anna Maria’s slippers was missing, soon afterwards one of her worked bools was found with the front eaten out of it, the rats never took a pair of anything but contented themselves with odd articles, then a victorine disappeared mysteriously, a tippet was sadly injured, and a reticule chawed up. “Did I leave my father’s house for this?" sobbed Anna Maria, “ what can I do ?” cried I. “ Get another cat” said she. Obedience being one of my strongest points, I complied with this

request and got the biggest Tom procurable. In the middle of the night we were awakened by a fearful crash, then another, and another, hurriedly striking a light up I jumped. Mr. Tom in his eagerness to please, had followed a rat from shelf to shelf, like Attila marking his progress by devastation. Plates, jugs, cups and saucers were strewed about the floor in hideous confusion. Still a rat was caught. Anna Maria said she felt thankful for that! That rat’s capture cost me, I estimated close on 255, but money of course was no object compared Anna Maria’s peace of mind.

Sad to say the rats came again and again, batallions of them, and the crockery diminished in like ratio, besides the cat was a badly behaved brute, and I was obliged at last to banish him out of doors for sanitary reason s. Then the rats came with redoubled vigor, they laid their (I was going to say hands, but) claws upon everything. I got anxious myself, prophetically looking into the dim future, I saw a child, perhaps children, being devoured by these pests. The thought saddened me, inwardly I cursed those rats. Then a voice said unto me, poison ! “Happy thought,” I spread phosphorous paste on bread and butter, and laid it generously. At the commencement I killed all my fowls—the rats seemed .rather to enjoy it than otherwise, phosphorous in their case acted as a sort of “ Yorkshire relish ” and seemed to give a zest to their somewhat dry food. They ate greedily all I gave them, and came again for more, I supplied their wants with a lavish hand until at. night time

they glowedall over with phosphorescence, and until I fancied often a comet must have taken up its quarters in our humble abode, when a gleaming meteor-like apparition shot across the top of the partition wall, t’was but a rat in a high state of phosporous. The paste evidently was useless, a friend suggested strychnine. No sooner suggested than acted upon, I placed strychnine on bread, on meat, on cheese, on bacon, I gave it them to their hearts’ content. First day’s result. One very small mouse found dead. Ah! thought I, t’is but a question of time, the turn of the rats will come next. Alas, my cat went next, then my neighbours’ dogs. for this last exploit I got summonsed and but no matter. Still my baits were I taken with no apparent results. I ex- 1 Brained carefully all the waterholes in my I immediate vicinity—not a trace. Still ll laid poison, and withaperseverance worthy! of a better cause, those rats kept on re-1 moving it. “These blessed rats must be poison proof ” thought I, so I got a trap. Hard 1J had it been set, when Click, Clack ! jl rushed to the room. Behold, a rat! GivinJ him the happy dispatch I re-set in “ Now ” said I to Anna Maria “ I’ll sil up all night and keep on catching ratß until I’ve cleared the lot out.” Vain idea, devil another rat was fool enough to get collared. Then I was told I should have well burnt out of the trap the flavour of the last victim. I followed that advice, placed my trap in the fire and burnt away until the spring was ruined. So much for trap No. 1. Hearing of my misfortune, a neighbour showed me how to construct an infallible lure, he called it a “ figure of four ’’ trap. It was about as simple a piece of mechanism as the first steam engine must have been, a lot of little bits of sticks scientifically built up over a bait, and then a heavy slab poised over all. In setting it I bruised my hands considerably but regardless of bruises I stuck to my work manfully; alas! the only thing I

caught was Anna Maria’s dress. Whenever the partner of my bosom walked about (our house is not large) she knocked the result of my arduous labor down. “ Figure of four ” went into the fire. I then got another spring trap, towards the small hours of the first night it was sent there was a fearful row— Hurrah another rat! This animal however in dragging the trap towards his hole had knocked the sharp edge of it against a tin of kerosene punching a hole in it. Everything in the house smelt and tasted keroseney (to coin a word) for a month afterwards, and the look of the floor was ruined. Rat No. 3 cost me over three gallons of kerosene, I gave up attempting to catch them as being rather too expensive a sport for my limited income. Soon afterwards most dreadful stenches began to arise in the sitting-room, the poison had at length taken effect, I have Lad that floor taken up three times already, that of another room once, the partition taken down twice, and still the effluvium of departed rats keeps on arising. I have sent Anna Maria away for a time, and live in hopes that the last rat will shortly yield up the ghost and his own particular perfume so that she may return. As I write there is a ratty flavor about the room far from pleasant, and I am about to qualify it with a little whiskey.