{"id":"01KG8AKN22Z9YSPM2ZM2450WP4","cid":"bafkreif3by2ybwzxnieyzezm5m7vgjstut7vm4tgmsijkoorti7t5kgn3m","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2048,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","start_line":1971,"text":"baton in the smoke of Waterloo; or thrice gallant Anglesea, crossing\r\nhis wooden leg mid the reek and rack of the Apsley House banquet.\r\n\r\nVee-Vee obeyed; and quickly, like a howitzer, the pipe-owl was reloaded\r\nto the muzzle, and King Media smoked on.\r\n\r\n“Ah! this is pleasant indeed,” he cried. “Look, it’s a calm on the\r\nwaters, and a calm in our hearts, as we inhale these sedative odors.”\r\n\r\n“So calm,” said Babbalanja; “the very gods must be smoking now.”\r\n\r\n“And thus,” said Media, “we demi-gods hereafter shall cross-legged sit,\r\nand smoke out our eternities. Ah, what a glorious puff! Mortals,\r\nmethinks these pipe-bowls of ours must be petrifactions of roses, so\r\nscented they seem. But, old Mohi, you have smoked this many a long\r\nyear; doubtless, you know something about their material—the\r\nFroth-of-the-Sea they call it, I think—ere my handicraft subjects\r\nobtain it, to work into bowls. Tell us the tale.”\r\n\r\n“Delighted to do so, my lord,” replied Mohi, slowly disentangling his\r\nmouth-piece from the braids of his beard. “I have devoted much time and\r\nattention to the study of pipe-bowls, and groped among many learned\r\nauthorities, to reconcile the clashing opinions concerning the origin\r\nof the so-called Farnoo, or Froth-of-the-Sea.”\r\n\r\n“Well, then, my old centenarian, give us the result of your\r\ninvestigations. But smoke away: a word and a puff go on.”\r\n\r\n“May it please you, then, my right worshipful lord, this Farnoo is an\r\nunctuous, argillaceous substance; in its natural state, soft,\r\nmalleable, and easily worked as the cornelian-red clay from the famous\r\npipe-quarries of the wild tribes to the North. But though mostly found\r\nburied in terra-firma, especially in the isles toward the East, this\r\nFarnoo, my lord, is sometimes thrown up by the ocean; in seasons of\r\nhigh sea, being plentifully found on the reefs. But, my lord, like\r\namber, the precise nature and origin of this Farnoo are points widely\r\nmooted.”\r\n\r\n“Stop there!” cried Media; “our mouth-pieces are of amber; so, not a\r\nword more of the Froth-of-the-Sea, until something be said to clear up\r\nthe mystery of amber. What is amber, old man?”\r\n\r\n“A still more obscure thing to trace than the other, my worshipful\r\nlord. Ancient Plinnee maintained, that originally it must be a juice,\r\nexuding from balsam firs and pines; Borhavo, that, like camphor, it is\r\nthe crystalized oil of aromatic ferns; Berzilli, that it is the\r\nconcreted scum of the lake Cephioris; and Vondendo, against scores of\r\nantagonists, stoutly held it a sort of bituminous gold, trickling from\r\nantediluvian smugglers’ caves, nigh the sea.”\r\n\r\n“Why, old Braid-Beard,” cried Media, placing his pipe in rest, “you are\r\nalmost as erudite as our philosopher here.”\r\n\r\n“Much more so, my lord,” said Babbalanja; “for Mohi has somehow picked\r\nup all my worthless forgettings, which are more than my valuable\r\nrememberings.”\r\n\r\n“What say you, wise one?” cried Mohi, shaking his braids, like an\r\nenraged elephant with many trunks.\r\n\r\nSaid Yoomy: “My lord, I have heard that amber is nothing less than the\r\ncongealed tears of broken-hearted mermaids.”\r\n\r\n“Absurd, minstrel,” cried Mohi. “Hark ye; I know what it is. All other\r\nauthorities to the contrary, amber is nothing more than gold-fishes’\r\nbrains, made waxy, then firm, by the action of the sea.”\r\n\r\n“Nonsense!” cried Yoomy.\r\n\r\n“My lord,” said Braid-Beard, waving his pipe, this thing is just as I\r\nsay. Imbedded in amber, do we not find little fishes’ fins,\r\nporpoise-teeth, sea-gulls’ beaks and claws; nay, butterflies’ wings,\r\nand sometimes a topaz? And how could that be, unless the substance was\r\nfirst soft? Amber is gold-fishes’ brains, I say.”\r\n\r\n“For one,” said Babbalanja, “I’ll not believe that, till you prove to\r\nme, Braid-Beard, that ideas themselves are found imbedded therein.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJQ1A78RKJV3PZ9MH9K07","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKN1X8X6EKDXE0DYZ2WHX","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKN22V41X5CDT10EQ7QXB","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:11.330Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:20.516Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}