1850
SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY
by Edgar Allan Poe
THE SYMPOSIUM of the preceding evening had been a little too much
for my nerves. I had a wretched headache, and was desperately
drowsy. Instead of going out therefore to spend the evening as I had
proposed, it occurred to me that I could not do a wiser thing than
just eat a mouthful of supper and go immediately to bed.
A light supper of course. I am exceedingly fond of Welsh rabbit.
More than a pound at once, however, may not at all times be advisable.
Still, there can be no material objection to two. And really between
two and three, there is merely a single unit of difference. I
ventured, perhaps, upon four. My wife will have it five;- but,
clearly, she has confounded two very distinct affairs. The abstract
number, five, I am willing to admit; but, concretely, it has reference
to bottles of Brown Stout, without which, in the way of condiment,
Welsh rabbit is to be eschewed.
Having thus concluded a frugal meal, and donned my night-cap, with
the serene hope of enjoying it till noon the next day, I placed my
head upon the pillow, and, through the aid of a capital conscience,
fell into a profound slumber forthwith.
But when were the hopes of humanity fulfilled? I could not have
completed my third snore when there came a furious ringing at the
street-door bell, and then an impatient thumping at the knocker, which
awakened me at once.
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