for ourselves
only, but indebted to all mankind, to be of as great use and service to
them, as our capacities and abilities will enable us to be; he,
therefore, gave a handsome gratuity to a famous rat-catcher (who assumed
the honour of being rat-catcher to the king,) to be initiated into that,
and the still more useful secret of curing madness in dogs or cattle.

Our hero, by his close application, soon attained so considerable a
knowledge in his profession, that he practised with much success and
applause, to the great advantage of the public in general, not confining
the good effects of his knowledge to his own community only, but
extending them universally to all sorts of people, wheresoever they were
wanted; for though we have before observed that the mendicants are in a
constant state of hostility with all other people, and Mr. Carew was as
alert as any one in laying all manner of schemes and stratagems to carry
off a booty from them; yet he thought, as a member of the grand society
of human kind, he was obliged to do them all the good in his power, when
it was not opposite to the interest of that particular community of which
he was a member.

Mr. Carew's invention being never at a loss, he now formed a new
stratagem; to execute which, he exchanged his habit, shirt, &c., for only
an old blanket; shoes and stockings he laid aside, because they did not
suit his present purpose. Being thus accoutred, or rather unaccoutred,
he was now no more than Poor Mad Tom, whom the foul fiend had led through
fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and
quagmire, that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew,
set ratsbane by his porridge, made him proud at heart to ride on a bay
trotting horse over four-inch bridges, to curse his own shadow for a
traitor; who eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the
wall-newt, and the water-newt; that in the fury of his heart, when the
foul fiend rages, swallows the old rat and ditch dog, drinks the green
mantle off the standing pool;

And mice and rats, and such small gear,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.

O do, de, do, de, do, de; bless thee from whirlwind, star-blasting, and
taking; do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes; there could
I have him now, and there, and there again, and there; through the sharp
hawthorn blows the cold wind; Tom's a-cold! who gives any thing to poor
Tom?--In this character, and with s