is way; or rather, to show him that he did not know his
way; for as for asking him what way he wanted to go, no one ever thought
of that.

But one pulled him hither, and another poked him thither, and a third
cried--

"You mustn't go west, I tell you; it is destruction to go west."

"But I am not going west, as you may see," said Tom.

And another, "The east lies here, my dear; I assure you this is the
east."

"But I don't want to go east," said Tom.

"Well, then, at all events, whichever way you are going, you are going
wrong," cried they all with one voice--which was the only thing which
they ever agreed about; and all pointed at once to all the
thirty-and-two points of the compass, till Tom thought all the
sign-posts in England had got together, and fallen fighting.

And whether he would have ever escaped out of the town, it is hard to
say, if the dog had not taken it into his head that they were going to
pull his master in pieces, and tackled them so sharply about the
gastrocnemius muscle, that he gave them some business of their own to
think of at last; and while they were rubbing their bitten calves, Tom
and the dog got safe away.

On the borders of that island he found Gotham, where the wise men live;
the same who dragged the pond because the moon had fallen into it, and
planted a hedge round the cuckoo, to keep spring all the year. And he
found them bricking up the town gate, because it was so wide that little
folks could not get through. And, when he asked why, they told him they
were expanding their liturgy. So he went on; for it was no business of
his: only he could not help saying that in his country, if the kitten
could not get in at the same hole as the cat, she might stay outside and
mew.

But he saw the end of such fellows, when he came to the island of the
Golden Asses, where nothing but thistles grow. For there they were all
turned into mokes with ears a yard long, for meddling with matters which
they do not understand, as Lucius did in the story. And like him, mokes
they must remain, till, by the laws of development, the thistles develop
into roses. Till then, they must comfort themselves with the thought,
that the longer their ears are, the thicker their hides; and so a good
beating don't hurt them.

Then came Tom to the great land of Hearsay, in which are no less than
thirty and odd kings, beside half a dozen Republics, and perhaps more by
next mail.

And there he fell in with a deep,