“Every Man has his Fancy.
RATTING SPORTS IN REALITY.”
About nine o’clock the proprietor took the chair in the parlour, at the same time giving the order to “shut up the shutters in the room above, and light up the pit.” This announcement seemed to rouse the spirits of the impatient assembly, and even the dogs tied to the legs of the tables ran out to the length of their leathern thongs, and their tails curled like eels, as if they understood the meaning of the words.
“Why, that’s the little champion,” said the proprietor, patting a dog with thighs like a grasshopper, and whose mouth opened back to its ears. “Well, it is a beauty! I wish I could gammon you to take a ‘fiver’ for it.” Then looking round the room, he added, “Well, gents, I’m glad to see you look so comfortable.”
RATTING—“THE GRAHAM ARMS,” GRAHAM STREET.
[From a Photograph.]
The performances of the evening were somewhat hurried on by the entering of a young gentleman, whom the waiters called “Cap’an.”
“Now, Jem, when is this match coming off?” the Captain asked impatiently; and despite the assurance that they were getting ready, he threatened to leave the place if kept waiting much longer. This young officer seemed to be a great “fancier” of dogs, for he made the round of the room, handling each animal in its turn, feeling and squeezing its feet, and scrutinising its eyes and limbs with such minuteness, that the French gentlemen were forced to inquire who he was.
There was no announcement that the room above was ready, though everybody seemed to understand it; for all rose at once, and mounting the broad wooden staircase, which led to what was once the “drawing-room,” dropped their shillings into the hand of the proprietor, and entered the rat-killing apartment.