Says the Curried Captain, still a bit annoyed, "You passed all
the paragraphs, one after the other, and whenever I stopped to ask you
how you liked it, you nodded."
I didn't like to hurt the gallant scribe's feelings, but the fact is
that he, as a reader, has a very soothing-syrupy tone and, I fancy,
that in less than a quarter of an hour, judging by the moiety of my
cigar. I must have fallen fast asleep.
"That's posted, is it?" I ask, evading further explanation. "It is,"
he answers. "But I've got another lot--"
"Good!" I interrupt him, rather abruptly I own, but, from experience
I say it, if I don't take myself when in the humour--'on the hop,' so
to speak, as they said of the _scarabaeus_ in Kent--(trust _me_ for
natural history and plenty of it)--I'm no use at all. Now at this
moment I am wide awake, a giant refreshed; so I light another fragrant
weed, and call for another cool drink, as I haven't the smallest idea
what became of the one I ordered when the Gallant Graphist commenced
reading; I rather suspect he 'put it to his lips when so dispoged,'
and that, in this instance also, he mistook my nod for silent but
emphatic encouragement.
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