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- Герман Мелвилл
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- Моби Дик
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In
summer
time
,
the
town
is
sweet
to
see
;
full
of
fine
maples
--
long
avenues
of
green
and
gold
.
And
in
August
,
high
in
air
,
the
beautiful
and
bountiful
horse-chestnuts
,
candelabra-wise
,
proffer
the
passer-by
their
tapering
upright
cones
of
congregated
blossoms
.
So
omnipotent
is
art
;
which
in
many
a
district
of
New
Bedford
has
superinduced
bright
terraces
ot
flowers
upon
the
barren
refuse
rocks
thrown
aside
at
creation
's
final
day
.
And
the
women
of
New
Bedford
,
they
bloom
like
their
own
red
roses
.
But
roses
only
bloom
in
summer
;
whereas
the
fine
carnation
of
their
cheeks
is
perennial
as
sunlight
in
the
seventh
heavens
.
Elsewhere
match
that
bloom
of
theirs
,
ye
can
not
,
save
in
Salem
,
where
they
tell
me
the
young
girls
breathe
such
musk
,
their
sailor
sweethearts
smell
them
miles
off
shore
,
as
though
they
were
drawing
nigh
the
odorous
Moluccas
instead
of
the
Puritanic
sands
.
In
the
same
New
Bedford
there
stands
a
Whaleman
's
Chapel
,
and
few
are
the
moody
fishermen
,
shortly
bound
for
the
Indian
Ocean
or
Pacific
,
who
fail
to
make
a
Sunday
visit
to
the
spot
.
I
am
sure
that
I
did
not
.
Returning
from
my
first
morning
stroll
,
I
again
sallied
out
upon
this
special
errand
.
The
sky
had
changed
from
clear
,
sunny
cold
,
to
driving
sleet
and
mist
.
Wrapping
myself
in
my
shaggy
jacket
of
the
cloth
called
bearskin
,
I
fought
my
way
against
the
stubborn
storm
.
Entering
,
I
found
a
small
scattered
congregation
of
sailors
,
and
sailors
'
wives
and
widows
.
A
muffled
silence
reigned
,
only
broken
at
times
by
the
shrieks
of
the
storm
.
Each
silent
worshipper
seemed
purposely
sitting
apart
from
the
other
,
as
if
each
silent
grief
were
insular
and
incommunicable
.
The
chaplain
had
not
yet
arrived
;
and
there
these
silent
islands
of
men
and
women
sat
steadfastly
eyeing
several
marble
tablets
,
with
black
borders
,
masoned
into
the
wall
on
either
side
the
pulpit
.
Three
of
them
ran
something
like
the
following
,
but
I
do
not
pretend
to
quote
:
SACRED
TO
THE
MEMORY
OF
JOHN
TALBOT
,
Who
,
at
the
age
of
eighteen
,
was
lost
overboard
Near
the
Isle
of
Desolation
,
off
Patagonia
,