The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket Comprising the details of a mutiny and atrocious butchery on board the American brig Grampus, on her way to the South Seas, in the month of June, 1827.

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 30

Despair gave me strength, and I rose bodily
up, shaking him from me by main force, and dragging with me the
blankets from the mattress. These I now threw over him, and before he
could extricate himself I had got through the door and closed it
effectually against his pursuit. In this struggle, however, I had been
forced to drop the morsel of ham-skin, and I now found my whole stock
of provisions reduced to a single gill of liqueur. As this reflection
crossed my mind, I felt myself actuated by one of those fits of
perverseness which might be supposed to influence a spoiled child in
similar circumstances, and, raising the bottle to my lips, I drained it
to the last drop, and dashed it furiously upon the floor.

Scarcely had the echo of the crash died away, when I heard my name
pronounced in an eager but subdued voice, issuing from the direction of
the steerage. So unexpected was anything of the kind, and so intense
was the emotion excited within me by the sound, that I endeavoured in
vain to reply. My powers of speech totally failed, and, in an agony of
terror lest my friend should conclude me dead, and return without
attempting to reach me, I stood up between the crates near the door of
the box, trembling convulsively, and gasping and struggling for
utterance. Had a thousand worlds depended upon a syllable, I could not
have spoken it. There was a slight movement now audible among the
lumber somewhere forward of my station. The sound presently grew less
distinct, then again less so, and still less. Shall I ever forget my
feelings at this moment? He was going--my friend--my companion, from
whom I had a right to expect so much--he was going--he would abandon
me--he was gone! He would leave me to perish miserably, to expire in
the most horrible and loathsome of dungeons--and one word--one little
syllable would save me--yet that single syllable I could not utter! I
felt, I am sure, more than ten thousand times the agonies of death
itself. My brain reeled, and I fell, deadly sick, against the end of
the box.

As I fell, the carving-knife was shaken out from the waistband of my
pantaloons, and dropped with a rattling sound to the floor. Never did
any strain of the richest melody come so sweetly to my ears! With the
intensest anxiety I listened to ascertain the effect of the noise upon
Augustus--for I knew that the person who called my name could be no one
but himself. All was silent for some moments.

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Text Comparison with The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 4

Page 0
No one who knows me will doubt that the duty thus self-imposed will be executed to the best of my ability, with all that rigid impartiality, all that cautious examination into facts, and diligent collation of authorities, which should ever distinguish him who aspires to the title of historian.
Page 1
The site of the village is in a perfectly circular valley, about a quarter of a mile in circumference, and entirely surrounded by gentle hills, over whose summit the people have never yet ventured to pass.
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With much difficulty, and at the imminent peril of their lives, they were restraining the convulsive plunges of a gigantic and fiery-colored.
Page 27
a chicken.
Page 28
We will dine.
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Cats they caterwauled.
Page 58
To these Quixotic notions some recent Parisian publications, backed by three or four desperate and fatal conversation, during the greater part of the night, had run wild upon the all--engrossing topic of the times.
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He is not at all nervous.
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The original, for instance, is long, and verbose, is headed "A Pocket-Book Lost!" and requires the treasure, when found, to be left at No.
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He has been accustomed to quiet.
Page 96
Therein it is said "que le Diable n'ose pas refuser un jeu d'ecarte.
Page 110
endeavor to conceal my unhappy calamity--a calamity calculated, even more than beggary, to estrange the affections of the multitude, and to draw down upon the wretch the well-merited indignation of the virtuous and the happy.
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He thought it extravagant to play upon wind instruments.
Page 115
He then came home, talked eternally, and played upon the French-horn.
Page 117
It was in the spirit of this wisdom that, among the ancient Hebrews, it was believed the gates of Heaven would be inevitably opened to that sinner, or saint, who, with good lungs and implicit confidence, should vociferate the word "Amen!" It was in the spirit of this wisdom that, when a great plague raged at Athens, and every means had been in vain attempted for its removal, Epimenides, as Laertius relates, in his second book, of that philosopher, advised the erection of a shrine and temple "to the proper God.
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Men knew not what to imagine.
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Men lived; and died individually.
Page 178
Thus ended all.