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The area before the house was paved with clam-shells.

Chowder for breakfast, and chowder for dinner, and chowder for supper, till you began to look for fish-bones coming through your clothes.

Fishiest of all fishy places was the Try Pots, which well deserved its name; for the pots there were always boiling chowders.

"But look, Queequeg, ain't that a live eel in your bowl? Where's your harpoon?"

What's that stultifying saying about chowder-headed people?

We resumed business; and while plying our spoons in the bowl, thinks I to myself, I wonder now if this here has any effect on the head?

In a few moments the savoury steam came forth again, but with a different flavor, and in good time a fine cod-chowder was placed before us.

Stepping to the kitchen door, I uttered the word "cod" with great emphasis, and resumed my seat.

Our appetites being sharpened by the frosty voyage, and in particular, Queequeg seeing his favorite fishing food before him, and the chowder being surpassingly excellent, we despatched it with great expedition: when leaning back a moment and bethinking me of Mrs. Hussey's clam and cod...

It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuit, and salted pork cut up into little flakes; the whole enriched with butter, and plentifully seasoned with pepper and salt.

Oh, sweet friends! hearken to me.

But when that smoking chowder came in, the mystery was delightfully explained.

However, a warm savoury steam from the kitchen served to belie the apparently cheerless prospect before us.

"Queequeg," said I, "do you think that we can make out a supper for us both on one clam?"

But being in a great hurry to resume scolding the man in the purple shirt, who was waiting for it in the entry, and seeming to hear nothing but the word "clam," Mrs. Hussey hurried towards an open door leading to the kitchen, and bawling out "clam for two," disappeared.

"A clam for supper? a cold clam; is that what you mean, Mrs. Hussey?" says I; "but that's a rather cold and clammy reception in the winter time, ain't it, Mrs. Hussey?"

"Clam or Cod?" she repeated.

"What's that about Cods, ma'am?" said I, with much politeness.

Upon making known our desires for a supper and a bed, Mrs. Hussey, postponing further scolding for the present, ushered us into a little room, and seating us at a table spread with the relics of a recently concluded repast, turned round to us and said--"Clam or Cod?"

And so it turned out; Mr. Hosea Hussey being from home, but leaving Mrs. Hussey entirely competent to attend to all his affairs.