You might as well eat rats." "I like rats," he replied, coolly taking out his knife from one pocket, a piece of bread from the other; and to my horror he rapidly ate up the hedgehog, throwing the bones on the fire as he picked them, and ending by rubbing the tin plate over with a bit of old gardener's apron which he took from the wall.
"Well," I said sarcastically, "was it nice ?" "Bewfle!" he said, giving his lips a smack and then sighing.
"Did you say you eat rats ?" I continued.
"Yes." "And mice too ?" "No; there ain't nuffin' on 'em--they're all bones." "Do you eat anything else ?" "Snails." "Yes, I've seen you eat the nasty slimy things." "They ain't nasty slimy things; they're good." "Do you eat anything else ?" "Birds." "What ?" I said.
"Birds--blackbirds, and thrushes, and sparrers, and starlings.

Ketches 'em in traps like I do the rats." "But do you really eat rats ?" "Yes--them as comes after the apples in the loft and after the corn.
They are good." "But don't you get enough to eat at home ?" I asked him.
"Home!--what, here ?" "No, I mean your home." "What, where I sleeps?
Sometimes." "But you're not obliged to eat these things.

Does Mr Brownsmith know ?" "Oh! yes, he knows.

I like 'em.

I eat frogs once.