wild and tattooed attire, still preserved the
garb of the mightiest nation of old times. They bared the knee, in
token that it was honorable as the face, since it had never been bent.

While Braid-Beard was recounting these things, the currents were
sweeping us over a strait, toward a deep green island, bewitching to
behold.

Not greener that midmost terrace of the Andes, which under a torrid
meridian steeps fair Quito in the dews of a perpetual spring;--not
greener the nine thousand feet of Pirohitee's tall peak, which, rising
from out the warm bosom of Tahiti, carries all summer with it into the
clouds;--nay, not greener the famed gardens of Cyrus,--than the vernal
lawn, the knoll, the dale of beautiful Verdanna.

"Alas, sweet isle! Thy desolation is overrun with vines," sighed
Yoomy, gazing.

"Land of caitiff curs!" cried Media.

"Isle, whose future is in its past. Hearth-stone, from which its
children run," said Babbalanja.

"I can not read thy chronicles for blood, Verdanna," murmured Mohi.

Gliding near, we would have landed, but the rolling surf forbade. Then
thrice we circumnavigated the isle for a smooth, clear beach; but it
was not found.

Meanwhile all still conversed.

"My lord," said Yoomy, "while we tarried with King Bello, I heard much
of the feud between Dominora and this unhappy shore. Yet is not
Verdanna as a child of King Bello's?"

"Yes, minstrel, a step-child," said Mohi.

"By way of enlarging his family circle," said Babbalanja, "an old lion
once introduced a deserted young stag to his den; but the stag never
became domesticated, and would still charge upon his foster-brothers.
--Verdanna is not of the flesh and blood of Dominora, whence, in good
part, these dissensions."

"But Babbalanja, is there no way of reconciling these foes?"

"But one way, Yoomy:--By filling up this strait with dry land; for,
divided by water, we Mardians must ever remain more or less
divided at heart. Though Kaleedoni was united to Dominora long
previous to the union of Verdanna, yet Kaleedoni occasions Bello no
disquiet; for, geographically one, the two populations insensibly
blend at the point of junction. No hostile strait flows between the
arms, that to embrace must touch."

"But, Babbalanja," said Yoomy, "what asks Verdanna of Dominora, that
Verdanna so clamors at the denial?"

"They are arrant cannibals, Yoomy," said Media, "and desire the
privilege of eating each other up."

"King Bello's idea,