{"id":"01KG8AK9XTWZHE3RQ8FQ52MF4G","cid":"bafkreidnd4sksow57udstabxwbrovcyqkgzw5bdwlvib6jks6bwbludqnq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2518,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:57.722Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1JMR8XVKPA0G8ADAPC4","start_line":2420,"text":"CHAPTER X.\r\n\r\nIN THE CABIN.\r\n\r\n\r\nStools, settees, sofas, divans, ottomans; occupying them are clusters of\r\nmen, old and young, wise and simple; in their hands are cards spotted\r\nwith diamonds, spades, clubs, hearts; the favorite games are whist,\r\ncribbage, and brag. Lounging in arm-chairs or sauntering among the\r\nmarble-topped tables, amused with the scene, are the comparatively few,\r\nwho, instead of having hands in the games, for the most part keep their\r\nhands in their pockets. These may be the philosophes. But here and\r\nthere, with a curious expression, one is reading a small sort of\r\nhandbill of anonymous poetry, rather wordily entitled:--\r\n\r\n  \"ODE\r\n  ON THE INTIMATIONS\r\n  OF\r\n  DISTRUST IN MAN,\r\n  UNWILLINGLY INFERRED FROM REPEATED REPULSES,\r\n  IN DISINTERESTED ENDEAVORS\r\n  TO PROCURE HIS\r\n  CONFIDENCE.\"\r\n\r\nOn the floor are many copies, looking as if fluttered down from a\r\nballoon. The way they came there was this: A somewhat elderly person, in\r\nthe quaker dress, had quietly passed through the cabin, and, much in\r\nthe manner of those railway book-peddlers who precede their proffers of\r\nsale by a distribution of puffs, direct or indirect, of the volumes to\r\nfollow, had, without speaking, handed about the odes, which, for the\r\nmost part, after a cursory glance, had been disrespectfully tossed\r\naside, as no doubt, the moonstruck production of some wandering\r\nrhapsodist.\r\n\r\nIn due time, book under arm, in trips the ruddy man with the\r\ntraveling-cap, who, lightly moving to and fro, looks animatedly about\r\nhim, with a yearning sort of gratulatory affinity and longing,\r\nexpressive of the very soul of sociality; as much as to say, \"Oh, boys,\r\nwould that I were personally acquainted with each mother's son of you,\r\nsince what a sweet world, to make sweet acquaintance in, is ours, my\r\nbrothers; yea, and what dear, happy dogs are we all!\"\r\n\r\nAnd just as if he had really warbled it forth, he makes fraternally up\r\nto one lounging stranger or another, exchanging with him some pleasant\r\nremark.\r\n\r\n\"Pray, what have you there?\" he asked of one newly accosted, a little,\r\ndried-up man, who looked as if he never dined.\r\n\r\n\"A little ode, rather queer, too,\" was the reply, \"of the same sort you\r\nsee strewn on the floor here.\"\r\n\r\n\"I did not observe them. Let me see;\" picking one up and looking it\r\nover. \"Well now, this is pretty; plaintive, especially the opening:--\r\n\r\n    'Alas for man, he hath small sense\r\n    Of genial trust and confidence.'\r\n\r\n--If it be so, alas for him, indeed. Runs off very smoothly, sir.\r\nBeautiful pathos. But do you think the sentiment just?\"\r\n\r\n\"As to that,\" said the little dried-up man, \"I think it a kind of queer\r\nthing altogether, and yet I am almost ashamed to add, it really has set\r\nme to thinking; yes and to feeling. Just now, somehow, I feel as it were\r\ntrustful and genial. I don't know that ever I felt so much so before. I\r\nam naturally numb in my sensibilities; but this ode, in its way, works\r\non my numbness not unlike a sermon, which, by lamenting over my lying\r\ndead in trespasses and sins, thereby stirs me up to be all alive in\r\nwell-doing.\"\r\n\r\n\"Glad to hear it, and hope you will do well, as the doctors say. But who\r\nsnowed the odes about here?\"\r\n\r\n\"I cannot say; I have not been here long.\"\r\n\r\n\"Wasn't an angel, was it? Come, you say you feel genial, let us do as\r\nthe rest, and have cards.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you, I never play cards.\"\r\n\r\n\"A bottle of wine?\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you, I never drink wine.\"\r\n\r\n\"Cigars?\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you, I never smoke cigars.\"\r\n\r\n\"Tell stories?\"\r\n\r\n\"To speak truly, I hardly think I know one worth telling.\"\r\n\r\n\"Seems to me, then, this geniality you say you feel waked in you, is as\r\nwater-power in a land without mills. Come, you had better take a genial\r\nhand at the cards. To begin, we will play for as small a sum as you\r\nplease; just enough to make it interesting.\"\r\n\r\n\"Indeed, you must excuse me. Somehow I distrust cards.\"\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJKFAGCCN46BE5MZN38SY","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JMR8XVKPA0G8ADAPC4","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK9XTCC2D0HJ7V9V04YT4","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:59.930Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:07.560Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}