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- CHAPTER LI.
In Which Azzageddi Seems To Use Babbalanja For A Mouth-Piece
Porpheero far astern, the spirits of the company rose. Once again, old
Mohi serenely unbraided, and rebraided his beard; and sitting Turk-wise
on his mat, my lord Media smoking his gonfalon, diverted himself with
the wild songs of Yoomy, the wild chronicles of Mohi, or the still
wilder speculations of Babbalanja; now and then, as from pitcher to
pitcher, pouring royal old wine down his soul.
Among other things, Media, who at times turned over Babbalanja for an
encyclopaedia, however unreliable, demanded information upon the
subject of neap tides and their alleged slavish vassalage to the moon.
When true to his cyclopaediatic nature, Babbalanja quoted from a still
older and better authority than himself; in brief, from no other than
eternal Bardianna. It seems that that worthy essayist had discussed the
whole matter in a chapter thus headed: “On Seeing into Mysteries
through Mill-Stones;“ and throughout his disquisitions he evinced such
a profundity of research, though delivered in a style somewhat
equivocal, that the company were much struck by the erudition
displayed.
“Babbalanja, that Bardianna of yours must have been a wonderful
student,” said Media after a pause, “no doubt he consumed whole
thickets of rush-lights.”
“Not so, my lord.—‘Patience, patience, philosophers,’ said Bardianna;
‘blow out your tapers, bolt not your dinners, take time, wisdom will be
plenty soon.’”
“A notable hint! Why not follow it, Babbalanja?”
“Because, my lord, I have overtaken it, and passed on.”
“True to your nature, Babbalanja; you stay nowhere.”
“Ay, keep moving is my motto; but speaking of hard students, did my
lord ever hear of Midni the ontologist and entomologist?”
“No.”
“Then, my lord, you shall hear of him now. Midni was of opinion that
day-light was vulgar; good enough for taro-planting and traveling; but
wholly unadapted to the sublime ends of study. He toiled by night; from
sunset to sunrise poring over the works of the old logicans. Like most
philosophers, Midni was an amiable man; but one thing invariably put
him out. He read in the woods by glow-worm light; insect in hand,
tracing over his pages, line by line. But glow-worms burn not long: and
in the midst of some calm intricate thought, at some imminent comma,
the insect often expired, and Midni groped for a meaning. Upon such an
occasion, ‘Ho, Ho,’ he cried; ‘but for one instant of sun-light to see
my way to a period!’ But sun-light there was none; so Midni sprang to
his feet, and parchment under arm, raced about among the sloughs and
bogs for another glow-worm. Often, making a rapid descent with his
turban, he thought he had caged a prize; but nay. Again he tried; yet
with no better succcess. Nevertheless, at last he secured one; but
hardly had he read three lines by its light, when out it went. Again
and again this occurred. And thus he forever went halting and stumbling
through his studies, and plunging through his quagmires after a glim.”
At this ridiculous tale, one of our silliest paddlers burst into
uncontrollable mirth. Offended at which breach of decorum, Media
sharply rebuked him.
But he protested he could not help laughing.
Again Media was about to reprimand him, when Babbalanja begged leave to
interfere.
“My lord, he is not to blame. Mark how earnestly he struggles to
suppress his mirth; but he can not. It has often been the same with
myself. And many a time have I not only vainly sought to check my
laughter, but at some recitals I have both laughed and cried. But can
opposite emotions be simultaneous in one being? No. I wanted to weep;
but my body wanted to smile, and between us we almost choked. My lord
Media, this man’s body laughs; not the man himself.”
“But his body is his own, Babbalanja; and he should have it under
better control.”
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