"Heart of Darkness"
by Joseph Conrad

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     He waved his arm, and in the twinkling of an eye was in the uttermost depths of despondency. In a moment he came up again with a jump, possessed himself of both my hands, shook them continuously, while he gabbled:

     "Brother sailor . . . honour . . . pleasure . . . delight . . . introduce myself . . . Russian . . . son of an arch-priest . . . Government of Tambov . . . What? Tobacco! English tobacco; the excellent English tobacco! Now, that's brotherly. Smoke? Where's a sailor that does not smoke?"

 

     The pipe soothed him, and gradually I made out he had run away from school, had gone to sea in a Russian ship; ran away again; served some time in English ships; was now reconciled with the arch-priest. He made a point of that.

     "But when one is young one must see things, gather experience, ideas; enlarge the mind."

     "Here!" I interrupted.

     "You can never tell! Here I met Mr. Kurtz," he said, youthfully solemn and reproachful.

 
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