Oddity took all our taunts very quietly, nibbled his dinner in the warehouse, but spent most of his time in the shed; where, as he snuffed along the ground, and fumbled amongst the chipping and the straw, we used to say that he was searching for little lame Billy, whom he never would see any more. Winter at length passed away. Down the roof of the shed, and through the hole in it, ran little streams of water from the melted snow. The west wind blew softly, bending the columns of smoke from the tall chimneys on shore, and the black funnels of the steamers that went snorting and puffing down the river. On one of the first mild days we found poor old Furry dead in the warehouse. Life had long been a burden to him, which his unhappy temper rendered yet more galling. I have heard that the rats of Newfoundland bury their comrades when they die, laying the bodies neatly one beside another, head and heels placed alternately together. I do not know whether this be true: it is not the custom of rats in England. We therefore left old Furry where he lay, close behind a barrel of salt meat, where he was discovered the next day by one of the men of the warehouse. Now, if there be one thing which men usually think more worthless lumber than another, it is the body of a dead rat. Our skins are not in England collected and valued as they are in France; the only thought is usually how to get rid of the unpleasant presence of the dead creature. And yet, strange to say, the porter did not throw away the body of poor old Furry: he carried it off to his master. I was very curious indeed to know its fate; and, after many fruitless inquiries, at length I discovered it. The tooth which had been Furry's torment in life, was destined to make him famous after death. Learned men-- I know not how many-- examined the head of the rat, looked, wondered, consulted together; and the end of the matter was, that it was placed as a great curiosity in some building which is called a museum. There, amidst fine vases and ancient weapons, old manuscripts and precious stones, and noble busts of the wise and great, is the head of poor old Furry preserved, with the mouth wide open, to display the extraordinary tooth! Fame is a strange thing, after all. I believe that our friend the rat was not the first, nor will be the last, to pay a heavy price for the bubble! Early in spring, one sunny morn, I received a visit from my old comrade Whiskerandos. He was full of life and spirits.