{"id":"01KG8AK98KE9V6X8JME47NRHFT","cid":"bafkreifzjo56tvb6vfvb4nvwie7w2zck6ozjkm5ravdmkq6oad6iqsuqfa","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":7816,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:57.725Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 6","source_file":"01KG89J1JMR8XVKPA0G8ADAPC4","start_line":7747,"text":"that it is with the best of hearts as with the best of pears--a\r\ndangerous experiment to linger too long upon the scene. This did\r\nPolonius. Thank fortune, Frank, I am young, every tooth sound in my\r\nhead, and if good wine can keep me where I am, long shall I remain so.\"\r\n\r\n\"True,\" with a smile. \"But wine, to do good, must be drunk. You have\r\ntalked much and well, Charlie; but drunk little and indifferently--fill\r\nup.\"\r\n\r\n\"Presently, presently,\" with a hasty and preoccupied air. \"If I remember\r\nright, Polonius hints as much as that one should, under no\r\ncircumstances, commit the indiscretion of aiding in a pecuniary way an\r\nunfortunate friend. He drules out some stale stuff about 'loan losing\r\nboth itself and friend,' don't he? But our bottle; is it glued fast?\r\nKeep it moving, my dear Frank. Good wine, and upon my soul I begin to\r\nfeel it, and through me old Polonius--yes, this wine, I fear, is what\r\nexcites me so against that detestable old dog without a tooth.\"\r\n\r\nUpon this, the cosmopolitan, cigar in mouth, slowly raised the bottle,\r\nand brought it slowly to the light, looking at it steadfastly, as one\r\nmight at a thermometer in August, to see not how low it was, but how\r\nhigh. Then whiffing out a puff, set it down, and said: \"Well, Charlie,\r\nif what wine you have drunk came out of this bottle, in that case I\r\nshould say that if--supposing a case--that if one fellow had an object\r\nin getting another fellow fuddled, and this fellow to be fuddled was of\r\nyour capacity, the operation would be comparatively inexpensive. What do\r\nyou think, Charlie?\"\r\n\r\n\"Why, I think I don't much admire the supposition,\" said Charlie, with a\r\nlook of resentment; \"it ain't safe, depend upon it, Frank, to venture\r\nupon too jocose suppositions with one's friends.\"\r\n\r\n\"Why, bless you, Frank, my supposition wasn't personal, but general. You\r\nmustn't be so touchy.\"\r\n\r\n\"If I am touchy it is the wine. Sometimes, when I freely drink, it has a\r\ntouchy effect on me, I have observed.\"\r\n\r\n\"Freely drink? you haven't drunk the perfect measure of one glass, yet.\r\nWhile for me, this must be my fourth or fifth, thanks to your\r\nimportunity; not to speak of all I drank this morning, for old\r\nacquaintance' sake. Drink, drink; you must drink.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I drink while you are talking,\" laughed the other; \"you have not\r\nnoticed it, but I have drunk my share. Have a queer way I learned from a\r\nsedate old uncle, who used to tip off his glass-unperceived. Do you fill\r\nup, and my glass, too. There! Now away with that stump, and have a new\r\ncigar. Good fellowship forever!\" again in the lyric mood, \"Say, Frank,\r\nare we not men? I say are we not human? Tell me, were they not human who\r\nengendered us, as before heaven I believe they shall be whom we shall\r\nengender? Fill up, up, up, my friend. Let the ruby tide aspire, and all\r\nruby aspirations with it! Up, fill up! Be we convivial. And\r\nconviviality, what is it? The word, I mean; what expresses it? A living\r\ntogether. But bats live together, and did you ever hear of convivial\r\nbats?\"\r\n\r\n\"If I ever did,\" observed the cosmopolitan, \"it has quite slipped my\r\nrecollection.\"\r\n\r\n\"But _why_ did you never hear of convivial bats, nor anybody else?\r\nBecause bats, though they live together, live not together genially.\r\nBats are not genial souls. But men are; and how delightful to think that\r\nthe word which among men signifies the highest pitch of geniality,\r\nimplies, as indispensable auxiliary, the cheery benediction of the\r\nbottle. Yes, Frank, to live together in the finest sense, we must drink\r\ntogether. And so, what wonder that he who loves not wine, that sober\r\nwretch has a lean heart--a heart like a wrung-out old bluing-bag, and\r\nloves not his kind? Out upon him, to the rag-house with him, hang\r\nhim--the ungenial soul!\"\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 6"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJMV9MSRGN5AE81C6QV95","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JMR8XVKPA0G8ADAPC4","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK98D3727PD74NZHTHWR7","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AK98GN3C9Z0MERSEWGJJQ","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:59.251Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:12.830Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}