the same in South American ponchos. But could it be possible
that any sober harpooneer would get into a door mat, and parade
the streets of any Christian town in that sort of guise?
I put it on, to try it, and it weighed me down like a hamper,
being uncommonly shaggy and thick, and I thought a little damp,
as though this mysterious harpooneer had been wearing it
of a rainy day. I went up in it to a bit of glass stuck
against the wall, and I never saw such a sight in my life.
I tore myself out of it in such a hurry that I gave myself
a kink in the neck.

I sat down on the side of the bed, and commenced thinking
about this head-peddling harpooneer, and his door mat.
After thinking some time on the bed-side, I got up and took off my
monkey jacket, and then stood in the middle of the room thinking.
I then took off my coat, and thought a little more in my shirt sleeves.
But beginning to feel very cold now, half undressed as I was,
and remembering what the landlord said about the harpooneer's
not coming home at all that night, it being so very late,
I made no more ado, but jumped out of my pantaloons and boots,
and then blowing out the light tumbled into bed, and commended
myself to the care of heaven.

Whether that mattress was stuffed with corncobs or broken crockery,
there is no telling, but I rolled about a good deal, and could
not sleep for a long time. At last I slid off into a light doze,
and had pretty nearly made a good offing towards the land of Nod,
when I heard a heavy footfall in the passage, and saw a glimmer
of light come into the room from under the door.