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[13] Oxford slang for "St. Mary's Hall."
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So, when our hero had been persuaded that the possession of an animal of the terrier species was absolutely necessary to a University man's existence, he had not to look about long without having the void filled up. Money will in most places procure any thing, from a grant of arms to a pair of wooden legs; so it is not surprising if, in Oxford, such an every-day commodity as a dog can be obtained through the medium of "filthy lucre;" for there was a well-known dog-fancier and proprietor, whose surname was that of the rich substantive just mentioned, to which had been prefixed the "filthy" adjective, probably for the sake of euphony. As usual, Filthy Lucre was clumping with his lame leg up and down the pavement just in front of the Brazenface gate, accompanied by his last "new and extensive assortment" of terriers of every variety, which he now pulled up for the inspection of Mr. Verdant Green.
"Is it a long-aird dawg, or a smooth 'un, as you'd most fancy?" inquired Mr. Lucre. "Har, sir!" he continued, in a flattering tone, as he saw our hero's eye dwelling on a Skye terrier; "I see you're a gent as does know a good style of dawg, when you see 'un! It ain't often as you see a Skye sich as that, sir! Look at his colour, sir, and the way he looks out of his 'air! He answers to the name of Mop, sir, in consekvence of the length of his 'air; and he's cheap as dirt, sir, at four-ten! It's a throwin' of him away at the price; and I shouldn't do it, but I've got more dawgs than I've room for; so I'm obligated to make a sacrifice. Four-ten, sir! 'Ad the distemper, and everythink, and a reg'lar good 'un for the varmin."
His merits also being testified to by Mr. Larkyns and Mr. Bouncer (who was considered a high authority in canine matters), and Verdant also liking the quaint appearance of the dog, Mop eventually became his property, for "four-ten" minus five shillings, but plus a pint of buttery beer, which Mr. Lucre always pronounced to be customary "in all dealins whatsumever atween gentlemen." Verdant was highly gratified at possessing a real University dog, and he patted Mop, and said, "Poo dog! poo Mop! poo fellow then!" and thought what a pet his sisters would make of him when he took him back home with him for the holi - the Vacation!
Mop was for following Mr. Lucre, who had clumped away up the street; and his new master had some difficulty in keeping him at his heels. By Mr. Bouncer's advice, he at once took him over the river to the field opposite the Christ Church meadows, in order to test his rat-killing powers. How this could be done out in the open country, our hero was at a loss to know; but he discreetly held his tongue, for he was gradually becoming aware that a freshman in Oxford must live to learn, and that, as with most men, experientia docet.
They had just been punted over the river, and Mop had been restored to terra firma, when Mr. Bouncer's remark of "There's the cove that'll do the trick for you!" directed Verdant's attention to an individual, who, from his general appearance, might have been first cousin to "Filthy Lucre," only that his live stock was of a different description. Slung from his shoulders was a large but shallow wire cage, in which were about a dozen doomed rats, whose futile endeavours to make their escape by running up the sides of their prison were regarded with the most intense earnestness by a group of terriers, who gave way to various phases of excitement. In his hand he carried a small circular cage, containing two or three rats for immediate use. On the receipt of sixpence, one of these was liberated; and a few yards start being (sportsmanlike) allowed, the speculator's terrier was then let loose, joined gratuitously, after a short interval, by a perfect pack in full cry, with a human chorus of "Hoo rat! Too loo! loo dog!" The rat turned, twisted, doubled, became confused, was overtaken, and, with one grip and a shake, was dead; while the excited pack returned to watch and jump at the wire cages until another doomed prisoner was tossed forth to them. Gentlemen on their way for a walk were thus enabled to wile away a few minutes at the noble sport, and indulge themselves and their dogs with a little healthy excitement; while the boating costume of other gentlemen shewed that they had for a while left aquatic pursuits, and had strolled up from the river to indulge in "the sports of the fancy."
Although his new master invested several sixpences on Mop's behalf, yet that ungrateful animal, being of a passive temperament of mind as regarded rats, and a slow movement of body, in consequence of his long hair impeding his progress, rather disgraced himself by allowing the sport to be taken from his very teeth. But he still further disgraced himself, when he had been taken back to Brazenface, by howling all through the night in the cupboard where he had been placed, thereby setting on Mr. Bouncer's two bull-terriers, Huz and Buz, to echo the sounds with redoubled fury from their coal-hole quarters; thus causing loss of sleep and a great outlay of Saxon expletives to all the dwellers on the staircase. It was in vain that our hero got out of bed and opened the cupboard-door, and said, "Poo Mop! good dog, then!" it was in vain that Mr. Bouncer shied boots at the coal-hole, and threatened Huz and Buz with loss of life; it was in vain that the tenant of the attic, Mr. Sloe, who was a reading-man, and sat up half the night, working for his degree, - it was in vain that he opened his door, and mildly declared (over the banisters), that it was impossible to get up Aristotle while such a noise was being made; it was in vain that Mr. Four-in-hand Fosbrooke, whose rooms were on the other side of Verdant's, came and administered to Mop severe punishment with a tandem-whip (it was a favourite boast with Mr. Fosbrooke, that he could flick a fly from his leader's ear); it was in vain to coax Mop with chicken-bones: he would neither be bribed nor frightened, and after a deceitful lull of a few minutes, just when every one was getting to sleep again, his melancholy howl would be raised with renewed vigour, and Huz and Buz would join for sympathy.
"I tell you what, Gig-lamps," said Mr. Bouncer the next morning; "this game'll never do. Bark's a very good thing to take in its proper way, when you're in want of it, and get it with port wine; but when you get it by itself and in too large doses, it ain't pleasant, you know. Huz and Buz are quiet enough, as long as they're let alone; and I should advise you to keep Mop down at Spavin's stables, or somewhere. But first, just let me give the brute the hiding he deserves."