- end_line
- 6602
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6565
- text
- said I, “let’s make it four.”
So we divided the burthen, and supped merrily together on our knees.
He was an old ruby of a fellow, his cheeks toasted brown; and it did my
soul good, to see the froth of the beer bubbling at his mouth, and
sparkling on his nut-brown beard. He looked so like a great mug of ale,
that I almost felt like taking him by the neck and pouring him out.
“Now Jack,” said he, when supper was over, “now Jack, my boy, do you
smoke?—Well then, load away.” And he handed me a seal-skin pouch of
tobacco and a pipe. We sat smoking together in this little sea-cabinet
of his, till it began to look much like a state-room in Tophet; and
notwithstanding my host’s rubicund nose, I could hardly see him for the
fog.
“He, he, my boy,” then said he—“I don’t never have any bugs here, I
tell ye: I smokes ’em all out every night before going to bed.”
“And where may you sleep?” said I, looking round, and seeing no sign of
a bed.
“Sleep?” says he, “why I sleep in my jacket, that’s the best
counterpane; and I use my head for a pillow. He-he, funny, ain’t it?”
“Very funny,” says I.
“Have some more ale?” says he; “plenty more.” “No more, thank you,”
says I; “I guess I’ll go;” for what with the tobacco-smoke and the ale,
I began to feel like breathing fresh air. Besides, my conscience smote
me for thus freely indulging in the pleasures of the table.
“Now, don’t go,” said he; “don’t go, my boy; don’t go out into the
damp; take an old Christian’s advice,” laying his hand on my shoulder;
“it won’t do. You see, by going out now, you’ll shake off the ale, and
get broad awake again; but if you stay here, you’ll soon be dropping
off for a nice little nap.”
- title
- Chunk 2