- end_line
- 5024
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:45.581Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4948
- text
- times a day tantalizing the wretched shanty with the sight of all the
beauty, rank, fashion, health, trunks, silver and gold, dry-goods and
groceries, brides and grooms, happy wives and husbands, flying by the
lonely door--no time to stop--flash! here they are--and there they go!
out of sight at both ends--as if that part of the world were only made
to fly over, and not to settle upon. And this was about all the shanty
saw of what people call life.
Though puzzled somewhat, yet I knew the general direction where the
shanty lay, and on I trudged. As I advanced, I was surprised to hear
the mysterious cock crow with more and more distinctness. Is it
possible, thought I, that any gentleman owning a Shanghai can dwell in
such a lonesome, dreary region? Louder and louder, nigher and nigher,
sounded the glorious and defiant clarion. Though somehow I may be out
of the track to my wood-sawyer's, I said to myself, yet, thank heaven,
I seem to be on the way toward that extraordinary cock. I was delighted
with this auspicious accident. On I journeyed; while at intervals the
crow sounded most invitingly, and jocundly, and superbly; and the
last crow was ever nigher than the former one. At last, emerging from
a thicket of elders, straight before me I saw the most resplendent
creature that ever blessed the sight of man.
A cock, more like a golden eagle than a cock. A cock, more like a
field marshal than a cock. A cock, more like Lord Nelson with all his
glittering arms on, standing on the Vanguard's quarter-deck going into
battle, than a cock. A cock, more like the Emperor Charlemagne in his
robes at Aix la Chapelle, than a cock.
Such a cock!
He was of a haughty size, stood haughtily on his haughty legs. His
colors were red, gold, and white. The red was on his crest along,
which was a mighty and symmetric crest, like unto Hector's helmet, as
delineated on antique shields. His plumage was snowy, traced with gold.
He walked in front of the shanty, like a peer of the realm; his crest
lifted, his chest heaved out, his embroidered trappings flashing in the
light. His pace was wonderful. He looked like some Oriental king in
some magnificent Italian opera.
Merrymusk advanced from the door.
"Pray is not that the Signor Beneventano?"
"Sir!"
"That's the cock," said I, a little embarrassed. The truth was, my
enthusiasm had betrayed me into a rather silly inadvertence. I had made
a somewhat learned sort of allusion in the presence of an unlearned
man. Consequently, upon discovering it by his honest stare, I felt
foolish; but carried it off by declaring that _this was the cock_.
Now, during the preceding autumn I had been to the city, and had
chanced to be present at a performance of the Italian Opera. In that
opera figured in some royal character a certain Signor Beneventano--a
man of a tall, imposing person, clad in rich raiment, like to plumage,
and with a most remarkable, majestic, scornful stride. The Signor
Beneventano seemed on the point of tumbling over backward with
exceeding haughtiness. And, for all the world, the proud pace of the
cock seemed the very stage-pace of the Signor Beneventano.
Hark! suddenly the cock paused, lifted his head still higher, ruffled
his plumes, seemed inspired, and sent forth a lusty crow. October
Mountain echoed it; other mountains sent it back; still others
rebounded it; it overran the country round. Now I plainly perceived how
it was I had chanced to hear the gladdening sound on my distant hill.
"Good heavens! do you own the cock? Is that cock yours?"
"Is it my cock!" said Merrymusk, looking slyly gleeful out of the
corner of his long, solemn face.
"Where did you get it?"
"It chipped the shell here. I raised it."
"You?"
- title
- Chunk 5