- end_line
- 9956
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.153Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 9910
- text
- before long, absolutely got mellow, the old toper keeping him company.
It was a curious sight. Everyone knows that, so long as the occasion
lasts, there is no stronger bond of sympathy and good feeling among men
than getting tipsy together. And how earnestly, nay, movingly, a brace
of worthies, thus employed, will endeavour to shed light upon, and
elucidate their mystical ideas!
Fancy Varvy and the doctor, then, lovingly tippling, and brimming over
with a desire to become better acquainted; the doctor politely bent
upon carrying on the conversation in the language of his host, and the
old hermit persisting in trying to talk English. The result was that,
between the two, they made such a fricassee of vowels and consonants
that it was enough to turn one’s brain.
The next morning, on waking, I heard a voice from the tombs. It was the
doctor solemnly pronouncing himself a dead man. He was sitting up, with
both hands clasped over his forehead, and his pale face a thousand
times paler than ever.
“That infernal stuff has murdered me!” he cried. “Heavens! my head’s
all wheels and springs, like the automaton chess-player! What’s to be
done, Paul? I’m poisoned.”
But, after drinking a herbal draught concocted by our host, and eating
a light meal, at noon, he felt much better; so much so that he declared
himself ready to continue our journey.
When we came to start, the Yankee’s boots were missing; and, after a
diligent search, were not to be found. Enraged beyond measure, their
proprietor said that Varvy must have stolen them; but, considering his
hospitality, I thought this extremely improbable; though to whom else
to impute the theft I knew not. The doctor maintained, however, that
one who was capable of drugging an innocent traveller with “Arva Tee”
was capable of anything.
But it was in vain that he stormed, and Varvy and I searched; the boots
were gone.
Were it not for this mysterious occurrence, and Varvy’s detestable
liquors, I would here recommend all travellers going round by the beach
to Partoowye to stop at the Rock, and patronize the old gentleman—the
more especially as he entertains gratis.
- title
- Chunk 3