- end_line
- 10196
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.539Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10116
- text
- CHAPTER XCIV.
Of That Jolly Old Lord, Borabolla; And That Jolly Island Of His,
Mondoldo; And Of The Fish-Ponds, And The Hereafters Of Fish
Drawing near Mondoldo, our next place of destination, we were greeted
by six fine canoes, gayly tricked out with streamers, and all alive
with the gestures of their occupants. King Borabolla and court were
hastening to welcome our approach; Media, unbeknown to all, having
notified him at the Banquet of the Five-and-Twenty Kings, of our
intention to visit his dominions.
Soon, side by side, these canoes floated with ours; each barge of Odo
courteously flanked by those of Mondoldo.
Not long were we in identifying Borabolla: the portly, pleasant old
monarch, seated cross-legged upon a dais, projecting over the bow of
the largest canoe of the six, close-grappling to the side of the Sea
Elephant.
Was he not a goodly round sight to behold? Round all over; round of eye
and of head; and like the jolly round Earth, roundest and biggest about
the Equator. A girdle of red was his Equinoctial Line, giving a
compactness to his plumpness.
This old Borabolla permitted naught to come between his head and the
sun; not even gray hairs. Bald as a gourd, right down on his brazen
skull, the rays of the luminary converged.
He was all hilarity; full of allusions to the feast at Willamilla,
where he had done royal execution. Rare old Borabolla! thou wert made
for dining out; thy ample mouth an inlet for good cheer, and a
sally-port for good humor.
Bustling about on his dais, he now gave orders for the occupants of our
canoes to be summarily emptied into his own; saying, that in that
manner only did he allow guests to touch the beach of Mondoldo.
So, with no little trouble—for the waves were grown somewhat riotous—we
proceeded to comply; bethinking ourselves all the while, how annoying
is sometimes an over-strained act of hospitality.
We were now but little less than a mile from the shore. But what of
that? There was plenty of time, thought Borabolla, for a hasty lunch,
and the getting of a subsequent appetite ere we effected a landing. So
viands were produced; to which the guests were invited to pay heedful
attention; or take the consequences, and famish till the long voyage in
prospect was ended.
Soon the water shoaled (approaching land is like nearing truth in
metaphysics), and ere we yet touched the beach, Borabolla declared,
that we were already landed. Which paradoxical assertion implied, that
the hospitality of Mondoldo was such, that in all directions it
radiated far out upon the lagoon, embracing a great circle; so that no
canoe could sail by the island, without its occupants being so long its
guests.
In most hospitable vicinity to the water, was a fine large structure,
inclosed by a stockade; both rather dilapidated; as if the cost of
entertaining its guests, prevented outlays for repairing the place. But
it was one of Borabolla’s maxims, that generally your tumble-down old
homesteads yield the most entertainment; their very dilapidation
betokening their having seen good service in hospitality; whereas,
spruce-looking, finical portals, have a phiz full of meaning; for
niggards are oftentimes neat.
Now, after what has been said, who so silly as to fancy, that because
Borabolla’s mansion was inclosed by a stockade, that the same was
intended as a defense against guests? By no means. In the palisade was
a mighty breach, not an entrance-way, wide enough to admit six Daniel
Lamberts abreast.
“Look,” cried Borabolla, as landing we stepped toward the place. “Look
Media! look all. These gates, you here see, lashed back with osiers,
have been so lashed during my life-time; and just where they stand,
shall they rot; ay, they shall perish wide open.”
“But why have them at all?” inquired Media.
“Ah! there you have old Borabolla,” cried the other.
- title
- Chunk 1