- end_line
- 4781
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:56.336Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4705
- text
- "My friend," said I, addressing this woeful mortal, "have you heard an
extraordinary cock-crow of late?"
I might as well as have asked him if he had heard the death-tick. He
stared at me with a long, bewildered, doleful, and unutterable stare,
and without reply resumed his unhappy labors.
What a fool, thought I, to have asked such an uncheerful and
uncheerable creature about a cheerful cock!
I walked on. I had now descended the high land where my house stood,
and being in a low tract could not hear the crow of the Shanghai, which
doubtless overshot me there. Besides, the Shanghai might be at lunch of
corn and oats, or taking a nap, and so interrupted his jubilations for
a while.
At length, I encountered riding along the road, a portly
gentleman--nay, a _pursy_ one--of great wealth, who had recently
purchased him some noble acres, and built him a noble mansion, with a
goodly fowl-house attached, the fame whereof spread through all the
country. Thought I, Here now is the owner of the Shanghai.
"Sir," said I, "excuse me, but I am a countryman of yours, and would
ask, if so be you own any Shanghais?"
"Oh, yes; I have ten Shanghais."
"Ten!" exclaimed I, in wonder; "and do they all crow?"
"Most lustily; every soul of them; I wouldn't own a cock that wouldn't
crow."
"Will you turn back, and show me those Shanghais?"
"With pleasure: I am proud of them. They cost me, in the lump, six
hundred dollars."
As I walked by the side of his horse, I was thinking to myself whether
possibly I had not mistaken the harmoniously combined crowings of ten
Shanghais in a squad, for the supernatural crow of a single Shanghai by
himself.
"Sir," said I, "is there one of your Shanghais which far exceeds all
the others in the lustiness, musicalness, and inspiring effects of his
crow?"
"They crow pretty much alike, I believe," he courteously replied. "I
really don't know that I could tell their crow apart."
I began to think that after all my noble chanticleer might not be in
the possession of this wealthy gentleman. However, we went into his
fowl-yard, and saw his Shanghais. Let me say that hitherto I had never
clapped eye on this species of imported fowl. I had heard what enormous
prices were paid for them, and also that they were of an enormous
size, and had somehow fancied they must be of a beauty and brilliancy
proportioned both to size and price. What was my surprise, then, to
see ten carrot-colored monsters, without the smallest pretension to
effulgence of plumage. Immediately, I determined that my royal cock was
neither among these, nor could possibly be a Shanghai at all; if these
gigantic gallows-bird fowl were fair specimens of the true Shanghai.
I walked all day, dining and resting at a farmhouse, inspecting various
fowl-yards, interrogating various owners of fowls, hearkening to
various crows, but discovered not the mysterious chanticleer. Indeed,
I had wandered so far and deviously, that I could not hear his crow. I
began to suspect that this cock was a mere visitor in the country, who
had taken his departure by the eleven o'clock train for the South, and
was now crowing and jubilating somewhere on the verdant banks of Long
Island Sound.
But next morning, again I heard the inspiring blast, again felt
my blood bound in me, again felt superior to all the ills of life,
again felt like turning my dun out of doors. But displeased with the
reception given him at his last visit, the dun stayed away, doubtless
being in a huff. Silly fellow that he was to take a harmless joke in
earnest.
- title
- Chunk 8