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.)

You may believe that all this was very
terrible to Chips; but even all this was not the
worst. He knew besides, what the rats were
doing, wherever they were. So sometimes he
would cry aloud, when he was at his club at
night, "Oh! Keep the rats out of the convicts'
burying-ground! Don't let them do that!"
Or, "There's one of them at the cheese down
stairs!" Or, "There's two of them smelling
at the baby in the garret!" Or, other things
of that sort. At last, he was voted mad, and
lost his work in the Yard, and could get no
other work. But King George wanted men, so
before very long he got pressed for a sailor.
And so he was taken off in a boat one evening
to his ship, lying at Spithead, ready to sail.
And so the first thing he made out in her as he
got near her, was the figure-head of the old
Seventy-four, where he had seen the Devil.
She was called the Argonaut, and they rowed
right under the bowsprit where the figure-head
of the Argonaut, with a sheepskin in his hand
and a blue gown on, was looking out to sea; and
sitting staring on his forehead was the rat who
could speak, and his exact words were these:
"Chips ahoy! Old boy! We've pretty well eat
them too, and will drown the crew, and will eat
them too!" (Here I always became exceedingly
faint, and would have asked for water, but
that I was speechless.)

The ship was bound for the Indies; and if
you don't know where that is, you ought to
it, and angels will never love you. (Here
I felt myself an outcast from a future state.)
The ship set sail that very night, and she sailed,
and sailed, and sailed. Chips's feelings were
dreadful. Nothing ever equalled his terrors.
No wonder. At last, one day he asked leave to
speak to the Admiral. The Admiral giv' leave.
Chips went down on his knees in the Great
State Cabin. "Your Honour, unless your
Honour, without a moment's loss of time makes
sail for the nearest shore, this is a doomed ship,
and her name is the Coffin!" "Young man, your
words are a madman's words." "Your Honour
no; they are nibbling us away." "They?"
"Your Honour, them dreadful rats. Dust and
hollowness where solid oak ought to be! Rats
nibbling a grave for every man on board! Oh!
Does your Honour love your Lady and your
pretty children?" "Yes, my man, to be sure."
"Then, for God's sake, make for the nearest
shore, for at this present moment the rats are
all stopping in their work, and are all looking
straight towards you with bare teeth, and are
all saying to one another that you shall never,
never, never, never, see your Lady and your
children more." "My poor fellow, you are a case
for the doctor. Sentry, take care of this man!"

So he was bled and he was blistered, and he
was this and that, for six whole days and nights.
So then he again asked leave to speak to the
Admiral. The Admiral giv' leave. He went
down on his knees in the Great State Cabin.
"Now, Admiral, you must die! You took no
warning; you must die! The rats are never
wrong in their calculations, and they make out
that they'll be through, at twelve to-night. So,
you must die!—With me and all the rest!" And
so at twelve o'clock there was a great leak
reported in the ship, and a torrent of water rushed
in and nothing could stop it, and they all went
down, every living soul. And what the rats—
being water-rats—left of Chips, at last floated
to shore, and sitting on him was an immense
overgrown rat, laughing, that dived when the
corpse touched the beach and never came up.
And there was a deal of seaweed on the
remains. And if you get thirteen bits of seaweed,
and dry them and burn them in the fire, they
will go—off—like in these thirteen words as
plain as plain can be:

"A Lemon has pips,
And a Yard has ships,
And I've got Chips!"

The same female bard—descended, possibly,