Punch: Punch (11.1846)

222 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

PUNCH'S VISIT TO A VERY REMARKABLE PLACE.

Our attention was attracted the other day by a rugged veteran
attired in a sort of Cockney gamekeeper's garb, whom we saw lounging
against one of the pillars of the Regent Strtet colonnade.

He carried a brisk little terrier under his arm. A litter of bull puppies
peered from the pockets of his shooting-jacket, and their mother, a sin-
gularly ill-favoured and bandy-legged female, cowered sullenly at his
feet.

Being curious to ascertain what manner of man this was, we entered
into conversation with him, and, to our surprise, found him very civil
and communicative.

He disclosed himself to be the famous Ben Thomas, better known in
the columns of Bell's Life as " the Father of the London Fancy." He told
us that he possessed a bulldog that could lick any other bulldog in
existence ; a terrier that could kill vermin with greater celerity than
any other terrier in Christendom ; that he had two badgers always
ready to be drawn ; and that he was never out of rats.

Finally, he tendered us his card, and invited us to call and inspect
his menagerie, any day we pleased, adding that we should " be safe to
find him or some of his kids at home."

We accordingly proceeded, on Saturday last, to his villa near Padding-
ton, accompanied by the faithful Tobt. Me. Thomas received us
in his picture gallery, which contains a unique collection of like-
nesses of the most distinguished canine gladiators of the Past and the
Present, on whose exploits and lineage he expatiated with an interest
which we confess was altogether incomprehensible to us, inasmuch as
such a strong family likeness pervades all the portraits that none but
a most experienced fancier could possibly discriminate between " the
silibrated Ecclesfield Nudger, wot licked the Tooting Trump in
ninety-sivin minutes," and "the silibrated Whitechapel Nonpariel, wot
killed Sambo Sutton's original fighting Monkey, last Good Friday
wos a twelvemonth."

They were all white, with one black eye a piece, preternaturally
underjawed, had heads like coalscuttles, powerful shoulders and loins,
parenthetical legs, slender sterns, and corkscrew tails.

On our expressing a wish to view his establishment, he courteously
ushered us into his pit, where Mr. Thomas, Jun., and his two grandsons,
assisted by a desperate little villain of a terrier, well known in " the
drawing circles" as the Borough Dentist, were "a having a bit of
diversion with a badger."

The moment our faithful Toby saw the badger, he set up a dismal
howl, and fled wildly, with a speed we had not previously attributed to
him. He was not discovered till the next day, when he was found, in
a state of extreme mental and bodily prostration, concealed in our coal-
iole, from which he was with great difficulty persuaded to emerge.

We in vain interceded for the animals, and endeavoured to stop the

sport. The Messrs. Thomas assured us that " the Dentist" liked it, (as>
indeed he most undoubtedly and unaccountably did) and maintained
that " badgers wos so tough, that nuffin couldn't hurt them ;" so v e
left the family party to their singular pastime, and proceeded with the
Father of the Fancy to the Bull-dog department. wrhich he considers as
his especial province, looking down upon " drawing " and "ratting " as
mere child's play.

In an area of about sixty yards square, as many bulldogs of all
sizes and ages were tethered to posts by short, and fortunately strong,
chains ; for when we entered the yard they unanimously sprang at usT
with an appalling yell. Mr. Thomas raised his hand and spoke to them
reprovingly, and they all slunk back abashed. He then introduced us
to them, assuring us fondly that they were the gentlest creatures in
existence, "if so be as they warn't haggrawated ; " and in less than two
minutes we found ourselves on the most confidential terms with a set of
as truculent-looking ruffians as ever ran under a go-cart, and they
seemed much gratified by our notice and caresses.

Mr. Thomas's spirits rose as he surveyed his darling tykes, and he
confessed to us, that although the truly British sports of bull-baiting
and dog-fighting have been crushed by the pertinacious interference of
the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, he still contrived
to earn a genteel livelihood by breeding these brave monsters for the
colonial and foreign markets. He said that he didn't want to fight any
more public matches, but he couldn't bear to see " the best blood in
England a heating the hosflesh of idleness," and thought it hard he might
not amuse himself like a gentleman, in private, with a few friends.

He asked us why, when Her Majesty's Buck Hounds chase an un
happy deer along the flinty roads till his feet drop off, and then tear
him down with their fangs, the humane British public rejoice in the
feat, and denominate it approvingly, " a clipping thing with the
Queen's ; " and why, when Prince Albert's beagles more deliberately
towler a wretched hare to death at the rate of six miles an hour, ulti-
mately eating her alive, they congratulate his Royal Highness or>
having had "capital sport?"

" The Society's officers," said he, " don't never meddle with steeple-
chasing ; I never heerd tell of their troubling the nobby young dove
butchers at the Red House ; they darn't say a word to swells as bags
their two thousand head of game in three days on the Moors ; but they
makes a dead set at such as me for indulgin' in a little Ea-nine on the
sly. They tells me, Mr. Punch, that you knows everything. I wish as
how you'd explain this here curious condick of the Society to me."

We should have been considerably puzzled to do so. We therefore
simulated great anxiety for the fate of the truant Toby, and tendering
a gratuity of half-a-crown to the helper of the "Father of the Fancy,'
we took our departure.