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Regent-street is not unknown to Lascars and Malays; and at Bombay, in the Apollo Green, live Yankees have often scared the natives.

Even in Broadway and Chestnut streets, Mediterranean mariners will sometimes jostle the affrighted ladies.

In thoroughfares night the docks, any considerable seaport will frequently offer to view the queerest looking nondescripts from foreign parts.

CHAPTER VI. The Street. If I had been astonished at first catching a glimpse of so outlandish an individual as Queequeg circulating among the polite society of a civilised town, that astonishment soon departed upon taking my first daylight stroll through the streets of New Bedford. Now now, I...

@LittleJerry92 you see above here the quick reply thread a button with two bullets and lines after? Click that. My name is David. I live in VA. I am a fan of metal and other music genres, possibly the biggest one on this forum? Maybe? Well, most vocal at least. I also like movies, TV shows...

Enough, that when breakfast was over he withdrew like the rest into the public room, lighted his tomahawk-pipe, and was sitting there quietly digesting and smoking with his inseparable hat on, when I sallied out for a stroll.

We will not speak of all Queequeg's peculiarities here; how he eschewed coffee and hot rolls, and applied his undivided attention to beefsteaks, done rare.

But that was certainly very coolly done by him, and every one knows that in most people's estimation, to do anything coolly is to do it genteelly.

His greatest admirer could not have cordially justified his bringing his harpoon in to breakfast with him, and using it there without ceremony; reaching over the table with it to the imminent jeopardy of many heads, and grappling the beefsteaks towards him.

To be sure I cannot say much for his breeding.

But as for Queequeg -- why, Queequeg sat there among them -- at the head of the table, too, it so chanced; as cool as an icicle.

Yes, here were a set of sea-dogs, many of whom without the slightest bashfulness had boarded great whales on the high seas -- entire strangers to them -- and duelled them dead without winking; and yet, here they sat at a social breakfast-table -- all of the same calling, all of kindred tastes --...

And not only that, but they looked embarrassed.

These reflections just here are occasioned by the circumstance that after we were all seated at the table, and I was preparing to hear some good stories about whaling; to my no small surprise, nearly every man maintained a profound silence.

Still, for the most part, that sort of thing is to be had anywhere.

But perhaps the mere crossing of Siberia in a sledge drawn by dogs as Ledyard did, or the taking a long solitary walk on an empty stomach, in the negro heart of Africa, which was the sum of poor Mungo's performances -- this kind of travel, I say, may not be the very best mode of attaining a high...

Not always, though: Ledyard, the great New England traveller, and Mungo Park, the Scotch one; of all men, they possessed the least assurance in the parlor.

They say that men who have seen the world, thereby become quite at ease in manner, quite self-possessed in company.

"Grub, ho!" now cried the landlord, flinging open a door, and in we went to breakfast.

But who could show a cheek like Queequeg? which, barred with various tints, seemed like the Andes' western slope, to show forth in one array, contrasting climates, zone by zone.