Thursday, March the 7th, 2013
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after darting from where he sat a few invigorating glances over the river-meadows to the blue mountains beyond, Pierre made a masonic sort of mysterious motion to the excellent Dates, who in automaton obedience thereto, brought from a certain agreeable little side-stand, a very prominent-looking cold pasty; which, on careful inspection with the knife, proved to be the embossed savory nest of a few uncommonly tender pigeons of Pierre's own shooting.
Herman Melville, Pierre, or The Ambiguities (1852)