{"id":"01KG6GMTCK6PKHRT9JRN101GK5","cid":"bafkreibo5j4tmtilqvueymfep7gyne5akddgye75bb6k2uvatmteov5mom","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":11779,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T03:55:03.883Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 21","source_file":"01KG6FXSCNX5F3D880P3YP3PKR","start_line":11719,"text":"Then reseating thee, a little panting, and pressing one hand to thy\r\nside: ‘Ay, stirring deeds beget stirring rhymes. But stirring rhymes\r\nbestir overmuch the cardiac arteries in an old fellow like me. Well,\r\nwell,’ in reaction lapsing into a muffled mutter, a sort of audible\r\nmusing, ‘Well, well--they are gone, both gone, hero and bard--long ago.\r\n_Sic transit._--They sleep, sleep.--_In pace, in pace--Requiescant!_’\r\n\r\nAnd slowly removing thy gold-rimmed glasses and assiduously rubbing them\r\nwith thy ample handkerchief, in tone a bit tremulous, thou addressest\r\nthe mild gentleman thy hearer. ‘The heat of this unwonted season, sir,\r\nwould not be so inconvenient but for the confounded humidity dampening\r\none’s spectacles so. But where, where now was I? Astraying I’ve been:\r\nLet me see----’ shutting thine eyes and clapping a hand to brow, ‘ah,\r\nyes, yes--patriotism of boyhood. Well, such a spluttering blunderbuss as\r\nI was speaking of a while ago, or rather such a _feu de joie in persona_\r\nour venerable friend, Judge van Groot, inadvertently made himself as a\r\nboy, recruiting his fagged patriotism on doughnuts and cider in one of\r\nthose booths which in _auld lang syne_ belted about our City Hall Park\r\nevery Fourth. I hear the sharp, quick percussion even now--see the lad\r\nstarting up, clapping his hands to his exploding powder-houses, and yet\r\nmore rapidly withdrawing them, till the booth-keeper put him out by\r\ndashing a handy bucket of cider on his trowsers. That was--bless my\r\nsoul--nigh threescore years ago!--And now? Yesterday with one foot in\r\nprunella, his Honour limped off to Saratoga, and, I dare say, sir,\r\nwithout so much as a single powder-cracker in his vest pocket; nay, and\r\nvery likely never once recalling the circumstances that Saratoga as a\r\ngreat Revolutionary battlefield, or giving name to one, is signally\r\nassociated with this blessed day.’ Then after a few moments of\r\nmeditative silence, ‘Myndert van Groot is--let me see--yes, about mine\r\nown age. His bay-tree, though planted by the rivers of Burgundy, won’t\r\nflourish more than a hundred years longer.--Well, well--_tempus_ does\r\n_fugit_--_Memento mori!_--die we must--consign to dust--leave all!’\r\nHere, settling back in thy chair, thine eyes fixed upon vacancy, thou\r\nmurmurest from thy Horace in quite other tones than those which late\r\nrolled forth the Monterey stanza:--\r\n\r\n               ‘The purple vineyard’s luscious stores,\r\n                Secured by trebly bolted doors,\r\n                Excite in vain your care;\r\n                Soon shall the rich and sparkling hoard\r\n                Flow largely o’er the festive board\r\n                Of your unsparing heir.’\r\n\r\nSilence again. Then, suddenly brisking up, ‘But _à propos_, as the\r\nMarquis says’; and, pulling out thy big watch, ‘ay, the lunch hour is at\r\nhand. Tobias, hither, thou Rose of Sharon,’ summoning a ruddy-cheeked\r\nyoung servitor, ‘go, see if the steward has ordered it as I directed,\r\nkept that _Chambertin_ three leagues from his refrigerator and the\r\nbottles in readiness to be gently immersed up to the neck--mind, up to\r\nthe neck in a water-cooler, the water of its natural temperature at this\r\nseason. Go, lad, it is important.’ Then turning to the quiet listener,\r\n‘Sir, for myself I am not so particular about these matters, but the two\r\nfriends I expect to dine with me--Jerry Bland and Captain Don Tempest of\r\nthe Navy--well, you know them--are; and one must humour the peculiar\r\ntastes of one’s friends, you know.’ Here, suddenly reminded that an\r\nimmediate courtesy was due. ‘Of course, my good sir, you will join us.\r\nNay, I insist upon it. Not good for a man to be alone, especially on the\r\nimmortal Fourth. Tobias, come back. Tut, he’s gone. William! Go, say we\r\nwill dine at the round table in the south-west corner, and let there be\r\nfour covers--four, mind.’\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 21"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG6GK9PNVA7517VNR0NXKXAW","peer_type":"segment","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG6FXSCNX5F3D880P3YP3PKR","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG2T49K0H5GDRB0G4YDTPG8H","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG6GMTCHVDSJBN9CHHVXZT7J","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG6GMJFKCZ4T26BJ96W3JXS9","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T03:55:12.147Z","ts":"2026-01-30T03:55:22.033Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}