\"Sittingintheswale；andlisteningtotheswindleoftheflail，asitsoundsdub—a—dubonthecorn，fromtheneighbouringbarn。\"
InrequitalforwhichItreatedthemwithasong，notofRomanvile，butthesongof\"SivoryandthehorseGrayman。\"I
remainedwiththemtillitwasdark，having，aftersunset，enteredintodeepdiscoursewithacelebratedratcatcher，whocommunicatedtomethesecretsofhistrade，saying，amongstotherthings，\"Whenyouseetheratspouringoutoftheirholes，andrunningupmyhandsandarms，it’snotaftermetheycomes，butaftertheoilsIcarriesaboutmetheycomes；\"andwhosubsequentlyspokeinthemostenthusiasticmannerofhistrade，sayingthatitwasthebesttradeintheworld，andmostdiverting，andthatitwaslikelytolastforever；forwhereasallotherkindsofverminwerefastdisappearingfromEngland，ratswereeverydaybecomingmoreabundant。Ihadquittedthisgoodcompany，andhavingmountedmyhorse，wasmakingmywaytowardsatownataboutsixmiles’distance，ataswingingtrot，mythoughtsdeeplyengagedonwhatIhadgatheredfromtheratcatcher，whenallonasuddenalightglareduponthehorse’sface，whopurledroundingreatterror，andflungmeoutofthesaddle，asfromasling，orwithasmuchviolenceasthehorseGrayman，intheballad，flingsSivordtheSnareswayne。Ifellupontheground—feltakindofcrashingaboutmyneck—andforthwithbecamesenseless。
CHAPTERXXXI
ANovelSituation—TheElderlyIndividual—TheSurgeon—A