At one end a ruminating tar was still further adorning it with his jack-knife, stooping over and diligently working away at the space between his legs. The landlord chuckled again with his lean chuckle, and seemed to be mightily tickled at something beyond my comprehension. He might take a fancy to mine- heavens! look at that tomahawk! One complained of a bad cold in his head, upon which jonah mixed him a pitch-like potion of gin and molasses, which he swore was a sovereign cure for all colds and catarrhs whatsoever, never mind of how long standing, or whether caught off the coast of labrador, or on the weather side of an ice-island.
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But thank heaven, at that moment the landlord came into the room light in hand, and leaping from the bed i ran up to him. It’s the black sea in a midnight gale. The opposite wall of this entry was hung all over with a heathenish array of monstrous clubs and spears.