Call me Ishmael.\u00a0 Some years ago\u2014never mind how long precisely\u2014having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.\u00a0 It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.\u00a0 Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my\u00a0[pb_glossary id=\"90\"]hypos[\/pb_glossary]\u00a0get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people\u2019s hats off\u2014then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.\u00a0 This is my substitute for pistol and ball.\u00a0 With a philosophical flourish\u00a0Cato\u00a0throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship.\u00a0 There is nothing surprising in this.\u00a0 If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.<\/p>\n
There now is your insular city of the [pb_glossary id=\"91\"]Manhattoes[\/pb_glossary], belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs\u2014commerce surrounds it with her surf.\u00a0 Right and left, the streets take you waterward.\u00a0 Its extreme downtown is\u00a0the battery<\/a>, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land.\u00a0 Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.<\/p>\n Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon.\u00a0 [pb_glossary id=\"93\"]Go from Corlears Hook<\/a>[\/pb_glossary]\u00a0to\u00a0Coenties Slip<\/a>, and from thence, by\u00a0Whitehall<\/a>, northward.\u00a0 What do you see?\u2014Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries.\u00a0 Some leaning against the\u00a0spiles<\/a>; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep.\u00a0 But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster\u2014 tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks.\u00a0 How then is this?\u00a0 Are the green fields gone?\u00a0 What do they here?<\/p>","rendered":" Call me Ishmael.\u00a0 Some years ago\u2014never mind how long precisely\u2014having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.\u00a0 It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.\u00a0 Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my\u00a0hypos<\/a>\u00a0get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people\u2019s hats off\u2014then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.\u00a0 This is my substitute for pistol and ball.\u00a0 With a philosophical flourish\u00a0Cato\u00a0throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship.\u00a0 There is nothing surprising in this.\u00a0 If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.<\/p>\n There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes<\/a>, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs\u2014commerce surrounds it with her surf.\u00a0 Right and left, the streets take you waterward.\u00a0 Its extreme downtown is\u00a0the battery<\/a>, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land.\u00a0 Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.<\/p>\n Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon.\u00a0 Go from Corlears Hook<\/a><\/a>\u00a0to\u00a0Coenties Slip<\/a>, and from thence, by\u00a0Whitehall<\/a>, northward.\u00a0 What do you see?\u2014Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries.\u00a0 Some leaning against the\u00a0spiles<\/a>; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep.\u00a0 But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster\u2014 tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks.\u00a0 How then is this?\u00a0 Are the green fields gone?\u00a0 What do they here?<\/p>\n From New Latin hypochondria (the morbid condition so called, supposed to have its seat in the upper part of the abdomen), from New Latin hypochondrium (see English hypochondrium for more).\u00a0Melancholy<\/a>;\u00a0depression.<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>