One evening in the autumn of my freshman year, my appetite casually drifted toward the pleasant thought of an Italian beef. Maybe double-dipped (sopped with gravy), hot and sweet (with giardiniera and peppers).

Such a man, to quit the tranquillity and independence of his own fireside, and on the evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again into the world!

Like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke.

by-past perils