This overthrowing of walls, be it known, is an incidental compliment paid distinguished personages in this part of Mardi.  It would seem to signify, that such gentry can go nowhere without creating an impression; even upon the most obdurate substances.

But to return to our ambrosial lunch.

Sublimate, as you will, the idea of our ethereality as intellectual beings; no sensible man can harbor a doubt, but that there is a vast deal of satisfaction in dining.  More:  there is a savor of life and immortality in substantial fare.  Like balloons, we are nothing till filled.

And well knowing this, nature has provided this jolly round board, our globe, which in an endless sequence of courses and crops, spreads a perpetual feast.  Though, as with most public banquets, there is no small crowding, and many go away famished from plenty.

CHAPTER LVI King Media A Host

Striking into a grove, about sunset we emerged upon a fine, clear space, and spied a city in the woods.

In the middle of all, like a generalissimo’s marquee among tents, was a structure more imposing than the rest.  Here, abode King Media.

Disposed round a space some fifty yards square, were many palm posts staked firmly in the earth.  A man’s height from the ground, these supported numerous horizontal trunks, upon which lay a flooring of habiscus.  High over this dais, but resting upon independent supports beyond, a gable-ended roof sloped away to within a short distance of the ground.

Such was the palace.

We entered it by an arched, arbored entrance, at one of its palmetto-thatched ends.  But not through this exclusive portal entered the Islanders.  Humbly stooping, they found ingress under the drooping eaves.  A custom immemorial, and well calculated to remind all contumacious subjects of the dignity of the habitation thus entered.

Three steps led to the summit of the dais, where piles of soft mats, and light pillows of woven grass, stuffed with the golden down of a wild thistle, invited all loiterers to lounge.

How pleasant the twilight that welled up from under the low eaves, above which we were seated.  And how obvious now the design of the roof.  No shade more grateful and complete; the garish sun lingering without like some lackey in waiting.

But who is this in the corner, gaping at us like a butler in a quandary?  Media’s household deity, in the guise of a plethoric monster, his enormous head lolling back, and wide, gaping mouth stuffed full of fresh fruits and green leaves.  Truly, had the idol possessed a soul under his knotty ribs, how tantalizing to hold so glorious a mouthful without the power of deglutition.  Far worse than the inexorable lock-jaw, which will not admit of the step preliminary to a swallow.

This jolly Josh image was that of an inferior deity, the god of Good Cheer, and often after, we met with his merry round mouth in many other abodes in Mardi.  Daily, his jaws are replenished, as a flower vase in summer.