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- 5013
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:26.981Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
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- 4942
- text
- the cow died during an accouchement, and he could not afford to buy
another. Still, his family never suffered for lack of food. He worked
hard and brought it to them.
Now, as I said before, having long previously sawed my wood, this
Merrymusk came for his pay.
‘My friend,’ said I, ‘do you know of any gentleman hereabouts who owns
an extraordinary cock?’
The twinkle glittered quite plain in the wood-sawyer’s eye.
‘I know of no _gentleman_,’ he replied, ‘who has what might well be
called an extraordinary cock.’
Oh, thought I, this Merrymusk is not the man to enlighten me. I am
afraid I shall never discover this extraordinary cock.
Not having the full change to pay Merrymusk, I gave him his due, as nigh
as I could make it, and told him that in a day or two I would take a
walk and visit his place, and hand him the remainder. Accordingly one
fine morning I sallied forth upon the errand. I had much ado finding the
best road to the shanty. No one seemed to know where it was exactly. It
lay in a very lonely part of the country, a densely-wooded mountain on
one side (which I call October Mountain, on account of its bannered
aspect in that month), and a thicketed swamp on the other, the railroad
cutting the swamp. Straight as a die the railroad cut it; many times a
day tantalising 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
colours were red, gold, and white. The red was on his crest alone, 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 noble foreigner. He
looked like some Oriental king in some magnificent Italian opera.
Merrymusk advanced from the door.
‘Pray, is not that the Signor Beneventano?’
‘Sir!’
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