emen's words. Oh Bardianna! these pages were offspring of
thee, thought of thy thought, soul of thy soul. Instinct with mind,
they once spoke out like living voices; now, they're dust; and would
not prick a fool to action. Whence then is this? If the fogs of some
few years can make soul linked to matter naught; how can the unhoused
spirit hope to live when mildewed with the damps of death."

Piously he folded the shreds of manuscript together, kissed them, and
laid them down.

Then approaching Oh-Oh, he besought him for one leaf, one shred of
those most precious pages, in memory of Bardianna, and for the love of
him.

But learning who he was, one of that old Ponderer's commentators, Oh-
Oh tottered toward the manuscripts; with trembling fingers told them
over, one by one, and said-"Thank Oro! all are here.--Philosopher, ask
me for my limbs, my life, my heart, but ask me not for these. Steeped
in wax, these shall be my cerements."

All in vain; Oh-Oh was an antiquary.

Turning in despair, Babbalanja spied a heap of worm-eaten parchment
covers, and many clippings and parings. And whereas the rolls of
manuscripts did smell like unto old cheese; so these relics did
marvelously resemble the rinds of the same.

Turning over this pile, Babbalanja lighted upon something that
restored his good humor. Long he looked it over delighted; but
bethinking him, that he must have dragged to day some lost work of the
collection, and much desirous of possessing it, he made bold again to
ply Oh-Oh; offering a tempting price for his discovery.

Glancing at the title--"A Happy Life"-the old man cried--"Oh, rubbish!
rubbish! take it for nothing." And Babbalanja placed it in his
vestment.

The catacombs surveyed, and day-light gained, we inquired the way to
Ji-Ji's, also a collector, but of another sort; one miserly in the
matter of teeth, the money of Mardi.

At the mention of his name, Oh-Oh flew out into scornful philippics
upon the insanity of that old dotard, who hoarded up teeth, as if
teeth were of any use, but to purchase rarities. Nevertheless, he
pointed out our path; following which, we crossed a meadow.

CHAPTER XX
Babbalanja Quotes From An Antique Pagan; And Earnestly Presses It Upon
The Company, That What He Recites Is Not His, But Another's

Journeying on, we stopped by a gurgling spring, in a beautiful grove;
and here, we stretched out on the grass, and our attendants unpacked
their hampers, to provide us a