Roughing It

tear. Oh where was her true love—and why, why did he not come and save her? At that moment he was lifting his harpoon to strike a whale in Behring’s Strait, five thousand miles away, by the way of the Arctic Ocean, or twenty thousand by the way of the Horn—that was the reason. He struck, but not with perfect aim—his foot slipped and he fell in the whale’s mouth and went down his throat. He was insensible five days. Then he came to himself and heard voices; daylight was streaming through a hole cut in the whale’s roof. He climbed out and astonished the sailors who were hoisting blubber up a ship’s side. He recognized the vessel, flew aboard, surprised the wedding party at the altar and exclaimed:

“Stop the proceedings—I’m here! Come to my arms, my own!”

There were foot-notes to this extravagant piece of literature wherein the author endeavored to show that

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