leasant vibrating of the leaves, when the little
maidens moved, produced a strange blending of sweet, singing sounds.
The little maidens embraced not with their arms, but with their viny
locks; whose tendrils instinctively twined about their lovers, till
both were lost in the bower."

"And what then?" asked Mohi, who, notwithstanding the fingers in his
ears, somehow contrived to listen; "What then?"

Vouchsafing no reply, Yoomy went on.

"At a certain age, but while yet the maidens were very young, their
vines bore blossoms. Ah! fatal symptoms. For soon as they burst, the
maidens died in their arbors; and were buried in the valleys;
and their vines spread forth; and the flowers bloomed; but the
maidens themselves were no more. And now disdaining the earth, the
vines shot upward: climbing to the topmost boughs of the trees; and
flowering in the sunshine forever and aye."

Yoomy here paused for a space; but presently continued:

"The little eyes of the people of Tupia were very strange to behold:
full of stars, that shone from within, like the Pleiades, deep-
bosomed in blue. And like the stars, they were intolerant of
sunlight; and slumbering through the day, the people of Tupia only
went abroad by night. But it was chiefly when the moon was at full,
that they were mostly in spirits.

"Then the little manikins would dive down into the sea, and rove
about in the coral groves, making love to the mermaids. Or, racing
round, make a mad merry night of it with the sea-urchins:--plucking
the reverend mullets by the beard; serenading the turtles in their
cells; worrying the sea-nettles; or tormenting with their antics the
touchy torpedos. Sometimes they went prying about with the starfish,
that have an eye at the end of each ray; and often with coral files
in their hands stole upon slumbering swordfish, slyly blunting their
weapons. In short, these stout little manikins were passionately fond
of the sea, and swore by wave and billow, that sooner or later they
would embark thereon in nautilus shells, and spend the rest of their
roving days thousands of inches from Tupia. Too true, they were
shameless little rakes. Oft would they return to their sweethearts,
sporting musky girdles of sea-kelp, tasseled with green little
pouches of grass, brimful of seed-pearls; and jingling their coin in
the ears of the damsels, throw out inuendoes about the beautiful and
bountiful mermaids: how wealthy and amorous they were, and how they