“The minstrel’s sides are all edges to-day,” said Media.

“This, then, thrice gentle Yoomy, is what I would say;” resumed Babbalanja, “that since we philosophers bestow so much wisdom upon others, it is not to be wondered at, if now and then we find what is left in us too small for our necessities.  It is from our very abundance that we want.”

“And from the fool’s poverty,” said Media, “that he is opulent; for his very simplicity, is sometimes of more account than the wisdom of the sage.  But we were discoursing of the Tapparians.  Babbalanja:  sententiously you have acquitted yourself to admiration; now amplify, and tell us more of the people of Pimminee.”

“My lord, I might amplify forever.”

“Then, my worshipful lord, let him not begin,” interposed Braid-Beard.

“I mean,” said Babbalanja, “that all subjects are inexhaustible, however trivial; as the mathematical point, put in motion, is capable of being produced into an infinite line.”

“But forever extending into nothing,” said Media.  “A very bad example to follow.  Do you, Babbalanja, come to the point, and not travel off with it, which is too much your wont.”

“Since my lord insists upon it then, thus much for the Tapparians, though but a thought or two of many in reserve.  They ignore the rest of Mardi, while they themselves are but a rumor in the isles of the East; where the business of living and dying goes on with the same uniformity, as if there were no Tapparians in existence.  They think themselves Mardi in full; whereas, by the mass, they are stared at as prodigies; exceptions to the law, ordaining that no Mardian shall undertake to live, unless he set out with at least the average quantity of brains.  For these Tapparians have no brains.  In lieu, they carry in one corner of their craniums, a drop or two of attar of roses; charily used, the supply being small.  They are the victims of two incurable maladies:  stone in the heart, and ossification of the head.  They are full of fripperies, fopperies, and finesses; knowing not, that nature should be the model of art.  Yet, they might appear less silly than they do, were they content to be the plain idiots which at bottom they are.  For there be grains of sense in a simpleton, so long as he be natural.  But what can be expected from them?  They are irreclaimable Tapparians; not so much fools by contrivance of their own, as by an express, though inscrutable decree of Oro’s.  For one, my lord, I can not abide them.”

Nor could Taji.

In Pimminee were no hilarious running and shouting:  none of the royal good cheer of old Borabolla; none of the mysteries of Maramma; none of the sentiment and romance of Donjalolo; no rehearsing of old legends:  no singing of old songs; no life; no jolly commotion:  in short, no men and women; nothing but their integuments; stiff trains and farthingales.

CHAPTER XXVIII Babbalanja Regales The Company With Some Sandwiches