Among other things pointed out, were certain little altars, like mile-stones, planted here and there upon bright bluffs, running out into the lagoon.  Dedicated respectively to the guardian spirits of Maramma, these altars formed a chain of spiritual defenses; and here were presumed to stand post the most vigilant of warders; dread Hivohitee, all by himself, garrisoning the impregnable interior.

But these sentries were only subalterns, subject to the beck of the Pontiff; who frequently sent word to them, concerning the duties of their watch.  His mandates were intrusted to one Ravoo, the hereditary pontifical messenger; a long-limbed varlet, so swift of foot, that he was said to travel like a javelin.  “Art thou Ravoo, that thou so pliest thy legs?” say these islanders, to one encountered in a hurry.

Hivohitee’s postman held no oral communication with the sentries.  Dispatched round the island with divers bits of tappa, hieroglyphically stamped, he merely deposited one upon each altar; superadding a stone, to keep the missive in its place; and so went his rounds.

Now, his route lay over hill and over dale, and over many a coral rock; and to preserve his feet from bruises, he was fain to wear a sort of buskin, or boot, fabricated of a durable tappa, made from the thickest and toughest of fibers.  As he never wore his buskins except when he carried the mail, Ravoo sorely fretted with his Hessians; though it would have been highly imprudent to travel without them.  To make the thing more endurable, therefore, and, at intervals, to cool his heated pedals, he established a series of stopping-places, or stages; at each of which a fresh pair of buskins, hanging from a tree, were taken down and vaulted into by the ingenious traveler.  Those relays of boots were exceedingly convenient; next, indeed, to being lifted upon a fresh pair of legs.

“Now, to what purpose that anecdote?” demanded Babbalanja of Mohi, who in substance related it.

“Marry! ’tis but the simple recital of a fact; and I tell it to entertain the company.”

“But has it any meaning you know of?”

“Thou art wise, find out,” retorted Braid-Beard.  “But what comes of it?” persisted Babbalanja.

“Beshrew me, this senseless catechising of thine,” replied Mohi; “naught else, it seems, save a grin or two.”

“And pray, what may you be driving at, philosopher?” interrupted Media.

“I am intent upon the essence of things; the mystery that lieth beyond; the elements of the tear which much laughter provoketh; that which is beneath the seeming; the precious pearl within the shaggy oyster.  I probe the circle’s center; I seek to evolve the inscrutable.”

“Seek on; and when aught is found, cry out, that we may run to see.”

“My lord the king is merry upon me.  To him my more subtle cogitations seem foolishness.  But believe me, my lord, there is more to be thought of than to be seen.  There is a world of wonders insphered within the spontaneous consciousness; or, as old Bardianna hath it, a mystery within the obvious, yet an obviousness within the mystery.”