- description
- # JIMMY ROSE
## Overview
This segment, titled "JIMMY ROSE," is a portion of the larger document "[The Apple-Tree Table and Other Sketches](arke:01KG6YFXZ62W4FVZVEZTBSQNZY)". It was extracted from the file "the_apple_tree_table_and_other_sketches.txt" and is part of the "[Melville](arke:01KG6YCG626JN4FCG8QK17CQCF)" collection. The segment spans from line 570 to line 639 of the source text.
## Context
This segment is situated within the literary collection "[Melville](arke:01KG6YCG626JN4FCG8QK17CQCF)", specifically as part of the document "[The Apple-Tree Table and Other Sketches](arke:01KG6YFXZ62W4FVZVEZTBSQNZY)". It follows the segment titled "[HAWTHORNE AND HIS MOSSES](arke:01KG6YGAW3VAH41S6VYDAHK2RR)" and precedes the segment titled "[I AND MY CHIMNEY](arke:01KG6YGAW3RVWZMPVH8TPXDXBS)". The text was extracted from the file "the_apple_tree_table_and_other_sketches.txt".
## Contents
The text within this segment describes a narrator's internal struggle with fear and philosophy while experiencing unsettling sounds, specifically a persistent ticking. The narrator attempts to rationalize the phenomenon, referencing Democritus and his own philosophical resolve. The narrative builds tension as the ticking intensifies, leading the narrator to confront the source, which appears to be a glowing, wriggling object on a table. The segment ends as the narrator prepares to investigate further.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T07:58:09.247Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- JIMMY ROSE
- end_line
- 639
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:25.113Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 570
- text
- here." The philosophy of which words lies here: that they imply the
foregone conclusion, that any possible investigation of any possible
spiritual phenomena was absurd; that upon the first face of such
things, the mind of a sane man instinctively affirmed them a humbug,
unworthy the least attention; more especially if such phenomena
appear in tombs, since tombs are peculiarly the place of silence,
lifelessness, and solitude; for which cause, by the way, the old man,
as upon the occasion in question, made the tombs of Abdera his place of
study.
Presently I was alone, and all was hushed. I laid down my pipe, not
feeling exactly tranquil enough now thoroughly to enjoy it. Taking up
one of the newspapers, I began, in a nervous, hurried sort of way, to
read by the light of a candle placed on a small stand drawn close to
the fire. As for the apple-tree table, having lately concluded that it
was rather too low for a reading-table, I thought best not to use it
as such that night. But it stood not very distant in the middle of the
room.
Try as I would, I could not succeed much at reading. Somehow I seemed
all ear and no eye; a condition of intense auricular suspense. But ere
long it was broken.
Tick! tick! tick!
Though it was not the first time I had heard that sound; nay, though I
had made it my particular business on this occasion to wait for that
sound, nevertheless, when it came, it seemed unexpected, as if a
cannon had boomed through the window.
Tick! tick! tick!
I sat stock still for a time, thoroughly to master, if possible, my
first discomposure. Then rising, I looked pretty steadily at the table;
went up to it pretty steadily; took hold of it pretty steadily; but let
it go pretty quickly; then paced up and down, stopping every moment
or two, with ear pricked to listen. Meantime, within me, the contest
between panic and philosophy remained not wholly decided.
Tick! tick! tick!
With appalling distinctness the ticking now rose on the night.
My pulse fluttered--my heart beat. I hardly know what might not have
followed, had not Democritus just then come to the rescue. For shame,
said I to myself, what is the use of so fine an example of philosophy,
if it cannot be followed? Straightway I resolved to imitate it, even to
the old sage's occupation and attitude.
Resuming my chair and paper, with back presented to the table, I
remained thus for a time, as if buried in study, when, the ticking
still continuing, I drawled out, in as indifferent and dryly jocose a
way as I could; "Come, come, Tick, my boy, fun enough for to-night."
Tick! tick! tick!
There seemed a sort of jeering defiance in the ticking now. It seemed
to exult over the poor affected part I was playing. But much as the
taunt stung me, it only stung me into persistence. I resolved not to
abate one whit in my mode of address.
"Come, come, you make more and more noise, Tick, my boy; too much of a
joke--time to have done."
No sooner said than the ticking ceased. Never was responsive obedience
more exact. For the life of me, I could not help turning round upon the
table, as one would upon some reasonable being, when--could I believe
my senses? I saw something moving, or wriggling, or squirming upon the
slab of the table. It shone like a glow-worm. Unconsciously, I grasped
the poker that stood at hand. But bethinking me how absurd to attack a
- title
- JIMMY ROSE