Great Britain -- Social conditions -- 19th century; London (England) -- Description and travel
hot, and looking like red-hot glass instead of iron-yet there was the rat
in it, just the same as ever! And the moment it caught his eye, it said
with a jeer:
‘A Lemon has pips,
And a Yard has ships,
And _I_’ll have Chips!’
(For this Refrain I had waited since its last appearance, with
inexpressible horror, which now culminated.) Chips now felt certain in
his own mind that the rat would stick to him; the rat, answering his
thought, said, ‘I will—like pitch!’
Now, as the rat leaped out of the pot when it had spoken, and made off,
Chips began to hope that it wouldn’t keep its word. But, a terrible
thing happened next day. For, when dinner-time came, and the Dock-bell
rang to strike work, he put his rule into the long pocket at the side of
his trousers, and there he found a rat—not that rat, but another rat.
And in his hat, he found another; and in his pocket-handkerchief,
another; and in the sleeves of his coat, when he pulled it on to go to
dinner, two more. And from that time he found himself so frightfully
intimate with all the rats in the Yard, that they climbed up his legs
when he was at work, and sat on his tools while he used them. And they
could all speak to one another, and he understood what they said. And
they got into his lodging, and into his bed, and into his teapot, and
into his beer, and into his boots. And he was going to be married to a
corn-chandler’s daughter; and when he gave her a workbox he had himself
made for her, a rat jumped out of it; and when he put his arm round her
waist, a rat clung about her; so the marriage was broken off, though the
banns were already twice put up—which the parish clerk well remembers,
for, as he handed the book to the clergyman for the second time of
asking, a large fat rat ran over the leaf. (By this time a special
cascade of rats was rolling down my back, and the whole of my small
listening person was overrun with them. At intervals ever since, I have
been morbidly afraid of my own pocket, lest my exploring hand should find
a specimen or two of those vermin in it.)
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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