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- teachings. It is this;—that at the last day, every man shall rise in
the flesh.”
“Pray, Babbalanja, talk not of resurrections to a demi-god.”
“Then let me rehearse a story, my lord. You will find it in the ‘Very
Merry Marvelings’ of the Improvisitor Quiddi; and a quaint book it is.
Fugle-fi is its finis:—fugle-fi, fugle-fo, fugle-fogle-orum!”
“That wild look in his eye again,” murmured Yoomy. “Proceed,
Azzageddi,” said Media.
“The philosopher Grando had a sovereign contempt for his carcass. Often
he picked a quarrel with it; and always was flying out in its
disparagement. ‘Out upon you, you beggarly body! you clog, drug, drag!
You keep me from flying; I could get along better without you. Out upon
you, I say, you vile pantry, cellar, sink, sewer; abominable body! what
vile thing are you not? And think you, beggar! to have the upper hand
of me? Make a leg to that man if you dare, without my permission. This
smell is intolerable; but turn from it, if you can, unless I give the
word. Bolt this yam!—it is done. Carry me across yon field!—off we go.
Stop!—it’s a dead halt. There, I’ve trained you enough for to-day; now,
sirrah, crouch down in the shade, and be quiet.—I’m rested. So, here’s
for a stroll, and a reverie homeward:— Up, carcass, and march.’ So the
carcass demurely rose and paced, and the philosopher meditated. He was
intent upon squaring the circle; but bump he came against a bough. ‘How
now, clodhopping bumpkin! you would take advantage of my reveries,
would you? But I’ll be even with you;’ and seizing a cudgel, he laid
across his shoulders with right good will. But one of his backhanded
thwacks injured his spinal cord; the philosopher dropped; but presently
came to. ‘Adzooks! I’ll bend or break you! Up, up, and I’ll run you
home for this.’ But wonderful to tell, his legs refused to budge; all
sensation had left them. But a huge wasp happening to sting his foot,
not him, for he felt it not, the leg incontinently sprang into the air,
and of itself, cut all manner of capers. Be still! Down with you!’ But
the leg refused. ‘My arms are still loyal,’ thought Grando; and with
them he at last managed to confine his refractory member. But all
commands, volitions, and persuasions, were as naught to induce his
limbs to carry him home. It was a solitary place; and five days after,
Grando the philosopher was found dead under a tree.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Media, “Azzageddi is full as merry as ever.”
“But, my lord,” continued Babbalanja, “some creatures have still more
perverse bodies than Grando’s. In the fables of Ridendiabola, this is
to be found. ‘A fresh-water Polyp, despising its marine existence;
longed to live upon air. But all it could do, its tentacles or arms
still continued to cram its stomach. By a sudden preternatural impulse,
however, the Polyp at last turned itself inside out; supposing that
after such a proceeding it would have no gastronomic interior. But its
body proved ventricle outside as well as in. Again its arms went to
work; food was tossed in, and digestion continued.’”
“Is the literal part of that a fact?” asked Mohi.
“True as truth,” said Babbalanja; “the Polyp will live turned inside
out.”
“Somewhat curious, certainly,” said Media.—“But me-thinks, Babbalanja,
that somewhere I have heard something about organic functions, so
called; which may account for the phenomena you mention; and I have
heard too, me-thinks, of what are called reflex actions of the nerves,
which, duly considered, might deprive of its strangeness that story of
yours concerning Grande and his body.”
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