- description
- # Consultation with Mr. Scribe and the Argument for Removal
## Overview
This is a segment extracted from the short story "[I and My Chimney](arke:01KG6YFYGCYAYC9GHGT2Z086S9)" by Herman Melville. The segment, titled "Consultation with Mr. Scribe and the Argument for Removal," spans lines 600-672 of the source file, "[i_and_my_chimney.txt](arke:01KG6YDDFE1YJ2Q37Q9JT1AJVB)". It describes the narrator's consultation with a master-mason, Mr. Scribe, regarding the potential removal of the chimney.
## Context
The short story "[I and My Chimney](arke:01KG6YFYGCYAYC9GHGT2Z086S9)" is part of the "[Melville](arke:01KG6YCG626JN4FCG8QK17CQCF)" collection. This segment follows "[Inconveniences and the Wife's Proposition](arke:01KG6YGB4RVFGNQHRZ9ES6PKBK)" and precedes "[Family's Eagerness and Narrator's Delay](arke:01KG6YGB4RB9JG48NZ7WSHT5TF)" within the narrative. The file was processed by the structure-extraction-lambda function.
## Contents
In this segment, the narrator recounts his conversation with Mr. Scribe, a master-mason, about the possibility of removing the large chimney in his house. The narrator initially resists the idea, but his wife and daughters persuade him to consider it. Mr. Scribe is summoned for a consultation, during which he inspects the chimney's foundation in the cellar, noting its substantial size. He calculates the amount of space and potential financial loss the chimney occupies. Ultimately, Mr. Scribe concludes that the chimney can be removed without rashness, but the narrator remains hesitant, promising to think about it.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:51.244Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- Consultation with Mr. Scribe and the Argument for Removal
- end_line
- 672
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:24.702Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 600
- text
- So said I then. But who is sure of himself, especially an old man, with
both wife and daughters ever at his elbow and ear? In time, I was
persuaded to think a little better of it; in short, to take the matter
into preliminary consideration. At length it came to pass that a
master-mason—a rough sort of architect—one Mr. Scribe, was summoned to
a conference. I formally introduced him to my chimney. A previous
introduction from my wife had introduced him to myself. He had been not
a little employed by that lady, in preparing plans and estimates for
some of her extensive operations in drainage. Having, with much ado,
extorted from my spouse the promise that she would leave us to an
unmolested survey, I began by leading Mr. Scribe down to the root of
the matter, in the cellar. Lamp in hand, I descended; for though
up-stairs it was noon, below it was night.
We seemed in the pyramids; and I, with one hand holding my lamp over
head, and with the other pointing out, in the obscurity, the hoar mass
of the chimney, seemed some Arab guide, showing the cobwebbed mausoleum
of the great god Apis.
“This is a most remarkable structure, sir,” said the master-mason,
after long contemplating it in silence, “a most remarkable structure,
sir.”
“Yes,” said I complacently, “every one says so.”
“But large as it appears above the roof, I would not have inferred the
magnitude of this foundation, sir,” eyeing it critically.
Then taking out his rule, he measured it.
“Twelve feet square; one hundred and forty-four square feet! Sir, this
house would appear to have been built simply for the accommodation of
your chimney.”
“Yes, my chimney and me. Tell me candidly, now,” I added, “would you
have such a famous chimney abolished?”
“I wouldn’t have it in a house of mine, sir, for a gift,” was the
reply. “It’s a losing affair altogether, sir. Do you know, sir, that in
retaining this chimney, you are losing, not only one hundred and
forty-four square feet of good ground, but likewise a considerable
interest upon a considerable principal?”
“How?”
“Look, sir!” said he, taking a bit of red chalk from his pocket, and
figuring against a whitewashed wall, “twenty times eight is so and so;
then forty-two times thirty—nine is so and so—ain’t it, sir? Well, add
those together, and subtract this here, then that makes so and so,”
still chalking away.
To be brief, after no small ciphering, Mr. Scribe informed me that my
chimney contained, I am ashamed to say how many thousand and odd
valuable bricks.
“No more,” said I fidgeting. “Pray now, let us have a look above.”
In that upper zone we made two more circumnavigations for the first and
second floors. That done, we stood together at the foot of the stairway
by the front door; my hand upon the knob, and Mr. Scribe hat in hand.
“Well, sir,” said he, a sort of feeling his way, and, to help himself,
fumbling with his hat, “well, sir, I think it can be done.”
“What, pray, Mr. Scribe; _what_ can be done?”
“Your chimney, sir; it can without rashness be removed, I think.”
“I will think of it, too, Mr. Scribe,” said I, turning the knob and
bowing him towards the open space without, “I will _think_ of it, sir;
it demands consideration; much obliged to ye; good morning, Mr.
Scribe.”
- title
- Consultation with Mr. Scribe and the Argument for Removal