About a mile from Weston College there was a dilapidated old house with a large yard and an orchard¹. There had been a farm attached to it once, but the land had been taken into the next estate, and the old homestead let separately many years before. The landlord would gladly have got rid of the present tenant², but he had a long lease, and, while he paid his rent, he was secure, and could snap his fingers at the squire³, the clergyman, the magistrates⁴, and all other people who did not appreciate him. Not that he ever did so snap his fingers; on the contrary, Mr Slam, though practically defiant⁵, was remarkably⁶ civil, not to say obsequious⁷, in his demeanour when he came into contact with the gentry⁸. By profession he was a rat-catcher, and he had an intimate knowledge of the habits and frailties⁹ of all the small predatory animals of Great Britain, and knew well how to lure¹⁰ them to their destruction. In a game-preserving community such talents ought, one would imagine, to have met with appreciative¹¹ recognition; but unfortunately Slam was suspected of being far more fatal to pheasants, hares, and rabbits than to all the vermin he destroyed. He protested his innocence¹², and was never caught in the act of taking game; but if anyone wanted to stock his preserves, Slam could always procure¹³ him a supply of pheasants’ eggs, and more than one village offender¹⁴ who had been sent to expiate¹⁵ his depredations¹⁶ in jail was known to have paid visits to Slam’s yard.  
Slam was a dog-fancier as well as a rat-catcher, and therefore doggy boys were attracted to his premises¹⁷, which, however, were sternly interdicted¹⁸. In the first place they were out of bounds, though this of itself did not go for very much. There was no town very near Weston, and so long as the boys made their appearance at the specified¹⁹ hours they were not overmuch interfered²⁰ with. Paper chases, or hare and hounds as they are sometimes called, were openly arranged and encouraged; and if boys liked to take walks in the country, they could do so with a minimum of risk. If they were awkward enough to meet a master face to face when out of bounds, he could hardly help turning them back and giving them a slight imposition; but if they saw him coming, and got out of his way, he would not look in their direction.
 
But to enter an inn, or to visit Slam’s, was a serious offence, entailing²¹ severe punishment, and even expulsion, if repeated.
 
Yet one beautiful warm summer’s evening, when the birds were singing and the grasshoppers²² chirruping, and all nature invited mankind to play cricket or lawn-tennis, if there were no river handy for boating, four youths might have been seen (but were not, luckily for them) approaching the forbidden establishment. A lane with high banks, now covered with ferns and wild flowers, and furrowed²³ with ruts which were more like crevasses²⁴, ran up to the house; but they left this and went round the orchard to the back of the yard, in the wall of which there was a little door with a bell-handle beside it. On this being pulled there was a faint tinkle²⁵, followed by a canine²⁶ uproar²⁷ of the most miscellaneous description, the deep-mouthed bay of the blood-hound, the sharp yap-yap of the toy terrier, and a chorus of intermediate undistinguishable barkings, some fierce, some frolicsome²⁸, some expectant, being mixed up with the rattling²⁹ of chains. Then an angry voice was heard amidst the hubbub³⁰ commanding silence, and a sudden whine³¹ or two seemed to imply that he had shown some practical intention of being obeyed. A bolt was drawn³², the door opened, and a short wiry man, dressed in fustian³³ and velveteen, with a fur cap on his head and a short pipe in his mouth, stood before them.
 
“Come in, gents,” said he. “Your dawg’s at the other end of the yard, Mr Stubbs, that’s why you don’t see him. He’s had an orkardness with Sayres, Mr Robarts’ dog, as was in the next kennel³⁴, and I thought they’d have strangled themselves a-trying to get at one another, and so I had to separate them.”
 
“Will it be safe to let him loose?” asked Stubbs.
 
“No fear; he will never go near the other while he’s loose and the other one chained up; besides, he’ll be took up with seeing you, he will.”
 
It was very pleasant to the feelings of Stubbs that his dog knew him, which he evidently did, for he danced on his hind-legs, and wagged his tail, and whimpered, and did all that a bull-terrier can do in the way of smiling, when his proprietor³⁶ approached for the purpose of freeing him from his chain. Their interviews were not as frequent as either dog or boy would have desired, but then they were very pleasant, for they brought the former a short spell of liberty, a meal of biscuit or paunch, and sometimes—oh, ecstasy³⁷!—the worrying of a rat, while Stubbs enjoyed the sense of proprietorship³⁸, and the knowledge that he was doing what was forbidden. He had dreams of leaving school and taking Topper home with him, and owning him as his friend before all the world, and he talked to Topper of that happy prospect⁴⁰, and Topper really quite seemed to understand that Stubbs was his master, who had paid money for him, and was now put to considerable expense for his board and lodging⁴¹, let alone the danger he ran in coming to visit him. To an outsider, calmly reflecting, it did not seem a very good bargain for Stubbs, but still very much better than that of Perry, his friend and present companion, who kept a hawk⁴², and vainly endeavoured to teach the bird to know him and perch⁴³ on his wrist. But Perry was fond of hawks⁴⁴, and much regretted that the days were gone by when hawking⁴⁵ was a favourite pastime.
 
The other two visitors at Slam’s that evening were Saurin and Edwards. Edwards had never been there before, and consequently his feelings were curiously⁴⁶ compounded of fear and pleasurable expectation. He had looked from a distance at the place, the entrance to which was so sternly forbidden, and imagined all sorts of delightful⁴⁷ wickedness—how delightful or why wicked he had no idea—going on inside. He was considerably⁴⁸ disappointed to find himself in a dirty yard full of kennels⁴⁹ to which dogs of all sorts and sizes were attached, none of whom looked as if it would be safe to pat them. There were a good many pigeons flying about, but he did not care for pigeons except in a pie. Perry’s hawk was only interesting to Perry. There was a monkey on a pole in a corner, but he was a melancholy⁵⁰ monkey, who did nothing but raise and lower his eyebrows⁵¹.
 
“Does the gentleman want a dawg?” asked Slam.
 
“He will see,” replied Saurin; “if there is a real good one that takes his fancy he may buy him. It’s all right; he’s a friend of mine. Have you got that tobacco for me?”
 
“To be sure; you will find it in your drawer.”
 
Saurin went to a little wooden outhouse which contained a table, a chest of drawers, a cask of dog-biscuits, cages of rats, and other miscellaneous articles, and opening a locker⁵² which seemed to be appropriated to him, he took out a meerschaum pipe and a tobacco-pouch, and came out presently, emitting columns of blue fragrant⁵³ smoke from his mouth. Edwards looked at his friend with increased respect, the idea of being intimate with a fellow who could smoke like that made him feel an inch taller.
 
“I think it’s beginning to colour, eh?” asked Saurin.
 
“Beautifully, I should say,” replied Edwards.
 
“Won’t you try?”
 
“Thanks; I think I should rather like,” said Edwards, who began to feel ambitious, “but I have not got anything to smoke.”
 
“Oh, Slam will let you have a pipe, or a cigar if you like it better.”
 
Edwards, calling to mind that cigars smelt⁵⁴ nicer than pipes, thought he should prefer one.
 
“Slam, my friend wants a cigar.”
 
“Well, sir, as you know, I can’t sell such things without a licence; but if the gent likes to have a few rats for one of the dawgs to show a bit of sport, I’ll give him a cigar with pleasure. It’s sixpence for half a dozen.”
 
“And, by the by, Edwards, it is usual to stand some beer to pay your footing. A couple of quarts of sixpenny will do.”
 
“That will make eighteenpence altogether,” responded Edwards cheerfully, producing that sum.
 
“I’ll send out for the beer at once,” said Mr Slam, taking the money and going towards the house.
 
Where he sent to is a mystery, for there was no public-house within a mile, and yet the can of beer arrived in about five minutes. It is much to be feared that Slam set the excise⁵⁵ law at defiance⁵⁶ when he felt perfectly⁵⁷ safe from being informed against.
 
“Rats for Topper!” exclaimed Stubbs. “Oh, I say, Edwards, you are a brick, you know. I have been hard up lately, and he has not had a rat for ever so long. You won’t mind my letting them out for him, will you? You see, I should like him to think it was I who gave him the treat, if you don’t mind.”
 
Edwards had no objection to become a party to this innocent deception⁵⁸, and the cage of rats was brought out from some mysterious place where there was an unlimited⁵⁹ supply of those vermin. Whereupon every individual dog in the establishment went off his head with excitement, and began barking and tearing at his chain in a manner to soften⁶⁰ the hardest heart. That rats should be so near and yet so far! The building, which was once a stable, had been fitted up expressly as an arena⁶¹, where dogs might exhibit their prowess, and thither⁶² the cage was now carried by Stubbs, Topper going almost the whole way on his hind-legs, with his nose close to the wires. Considering the amount of excitement the entertainment did not last long; the rats were turned out into the arena, where Topper pounced⁶³ upon them one after the other with a nip and a shake which was at once fatal. In a couple of minutes there were six fewer rats in the world, and Topper was extremely anxious to diminish the number still further. Doctor Johnson, the compiler of the dictionary, said he had never in his life had as many peaches and nectarines as he could eat, and that was Topper’s feelings with regard to rats. Edwards did not enjoy the spectacle quite as much as he felt that he ought. Besides, he was engaged in desperate efforts to light his cigar. Match after match did he burn, sucking away all the time like a leech⁶⁴, but no smoke came into his mouth.
 
“Let us go into the orchard and finish the beer,” said Saurin.
 
The orchard was surrounded by so thick a hedge that it was just as private as the yard. A cobby horse was cropping the grass, an ungroomed, untrimmed animal, very much better than he looked, his master, for reasons of his own, being as anxious to disguise his merits as most proprietors³⁹ of the noble animal are to enhance them as much as possible. There were possibilities of recreation here, though they were somewhat of a low order. Quoits hung up on several large nails driven into a wall, and there was a covered skittle alley⁶⁵. For there were a good many small farmers of the class just above that of the a labourer in the neighbourhood, and some of them frequented Slam’s, and were partial to skittles.
 
The four boys and the proprietor of the establishment seated themselves on benches in this orchard and gulped⁶⁶ the beer.
 
“Your cigar does not seem to draw well,” said Saurin.
 
“No,” replied Edwards; “I can’t think what is the matter with it; I never smoked a cigar like this before.”
 
Which was perfectly true, as it was the first he had ever put into his mouth.
 
“Let me look at it. Why, you have not bitten the end off! You might as well expect smoke to go up a chimney that is bricked up at the top. Here, I’ll cut it for you with my penknife; now you will find it go all right. What a row that hawk of yours makes, Perry!”
 
“Yes, he ought to be hooded⁶⁷, you know. Hateful times we live in, don’t we! How jolly it must have been when education meant learning to ride, fly a hawk, train a hound, shoot with the bow, and use the sword and buckler, instead of mugging at abominable⁶⁸ lessons.”
 
“Right you are, sir,” said Mr Slam; “why, even when I was a lad a fight or a bit of cocking could be brought off without much trouble, but nowadays the beaks⁶⁹ and perlice are that prying⁷⁰ and interfering⁷¹ there’s no chance hardly. And as for them times Mr Perry was speaking of, why, I’ve heard tell that the princes and all the nobs used to go to see a prize-fight in a big building all comfortable, just as they goes now to a theayter. And every parish had to find a bull or a bear to be bated every Sunday. Ah! them was the good old times, them was.”
 
Edwards did not find his cigar very nice. The smoke got down his throat and made him cough till his eyes watered, and the taste was not so pleasant as the smell. However, Saurin seemed to like it, so there must be some pleasure about it if he only persevered⁷².
 
He laboured under a delusion⁷⁴ here, for Saurin would rather not have smoked, as a matter of fact, though he had a great object in view, the colouring of his pipe, which supported him. His real motive⁷⁵ in this, as in all other matters, was vanity. Other boys would admire him for smoking like a full-grown man, and so he smoked. He would never have done it alone, without anyone to see him, being too fond of himself to persevere⁷³ in anything he did not like out of whim³⁵, or for the sake of some possible future gratification, of the reality of which he was not very well assured.
 
“Did you ever play at quoits, Edwards?” asked Saurin presently.
 
“Yes, I have played at home; we have some.”
 
“Suppose we have a game, then. Why, hulloa, how pale you look! don’t smoke any more of that cigar.”
 
“I do fee—feel a little queer,” said Edwards, who certainly did not exaggerate his sensations. A cold sweat burst out on his forehead, his hands were moist and clammy, and though it was a warm evening he shivered from head to foot, while he had a violent pain in his stomach which prevented his standing⁷⁶ upright.
 
“Come, man alive, don’t give way. We must be getting back soon,” said Saurin, who was rather dismayed at the idea of taking his friend to his tutor’s in that condition, and the consequent risk of drawing suspicion on himself. “Would not a drop of brandy be a good thing, Slam?”
 
“Well, no, not in this here case,” said Slam. “The missus shall mix him a little mustard and warm water; that’s what he wants.”
 
“You are sure it’s only the cigar,” groaned⁷⁷ Edwards. “I am not poisoned or anything?”
 
“Poisoned! how can you be? You have taken nothing but the beer, and we have all drunk that. No, it’s the tobacco; it always makes fellows rather seedy at first, and I expect you swallowed a lot of the smoke.”
 
“I did.”
 
“Well, then, drink this and you will be all right presently.”
 
Edwards took the emetic⁷⁸, which had the effect peculiar⁷⁹ to that description of beverage⁸⁰. It was not a pleasant one; indeed, he thought he was going to die; but after a while the worst symptoms passed off, and he was able to walk home.
 
Saurin and Edwards lodged⁸¹ at the same tutors, and they went up to the room of the latter without attracting attention. Here Edwards, under the other’s directions, washed his face, cleaned his teeth, changed his jacket and neck-tie, and put some scented⁸² pomatum on his hair, and then lay down on his bed till the supper-bell should ring.
 
“I shall not be able to eat,” he remonstrated⁸³. “Do you think I need go down?”
 
“Oh, yes; come and have a try, or else it will excite suspicion. You would have to show at prayers directly afterwards, you know, so it will not make much difference. You have nothing to do with old Cookson between this and supper—no exercise or anything?”
 
“No, thank goodness!”
 
“That’s all right. You have a good hour for a nap, and your head will be better then. I must go and sweeten myself now.”
 
I regret to say that “old Cookson” was the shockingly disrespectful way in which this flagitious youth spoke⁸⁴ of his reverend and learned tutor.