"Aniseed is better," replied the Gipsy, solemnly. (By the way, another
and an older Gipsy afterwards told me that he used caraway-oil and the
heads of dried herrings.) "And if you've got a rat, sir, anywhere in
this here house, I'll bring it to you in five minutes."

He did, in fact, subsequently bring the artist as models for the picture
two very pretty rats, which he had quite tamed while catching them.

"But what does the picture mean, sir?" he inquired, with curiosity.

"Once upon a time," I replied, "there was a city in Germany which was
overrun with rats. They teased the dogs and worried the cats, and bit
the babies in the cradle, and licked the soup from the cook's own ladle."

"There must have been an uncommon lot of them, sir," replied the tinker,
gravely.

"There was. Millions of them. Now in those days there were no
Rommanichals, and consequently no rat-catchers."

"'Taint so now-a-days," replied the Gipsy, gloomily. "The business is
quite spiled, and not to get a livin' by."

"Avo. And by the time the people had almost gone crazy, one day there
came a man--a Gipsy--the first Gipsy who had ever been seen in _dovo tem_
(or that country). And he agreed for a thousand crowns to clear all the
rats away. So he blew on a pipe, and the rats all followed him out of
town."