Chapter 27

Babbalanja Falleth Upon Pimminee Tooth And Nail

The levee over, waiving further civilities, we took courteus leave of
the Begum and Nimni, and proceeding to the beach, very soon were
embarked.

When all were pleasantly seated beneath the canopy, pipes in full
blast, calabashes revolving, and the paddlers quietly urging us along,
Media proposed that, for the benefit of the company, some one present,
in a pithy, whiffy sentence or two, should sum up the character of the
Tapparians; and ended by nominating Babbalanja to that office.

"Come, philosopher: let us see in how few syllables you can put the
brand on those Tapparians."

"Pardon me, my lord, but you must permit me to ponder awhile; nothing
requires more time, than to be brief. An example: they say that in
conversation old Bardianna dealt in nothing but trisyllabic sentences.
His talk was thunder peals: sounding reports, but long intervals."

"The devil take old Bardianna. And would that the grave-digger had
buried his Ponderings, along with his other remains. Can none be in
your company, Babbalanja, but you must perforce make them hob-a-nob
with that old prater? A brand for the Tapparians! that is what we seek."

"You shall have it, my lord. Full to the brim of themselves, for that
reason, the Tapparians are the emptiest of mortals."

"A good blow and well planted, Babbalanja."

"In sooth, a most excellent saying; it should be carved upon his
tombstone," said Mohi, slowly withdrawing his pipe.

"What! would you have my epitaph read thus:--'Here lies the emptiest
of mortals, who was full of himself?' At best, your words are
exceedingly ambiguous, Mohi."

"Now have I the philosopher," cried Yoomy, with glee. "What did some
one say to me, not long since, Babbalanja, when in the matter of that
sleepy song of mine, Braid-Beard bestowed upon me an equivocal
compliment? Was I not told to wrest commendation from it, though I
tortured it to the quick?"

"Take thy own pills, philosopher," said Mohi.

"Then would he be a great original," said Media.

"Tell me, Yoomy," said Babbalanja, "are you not in fault? Because I
sometimes speak wisely, you must not imagine that I should always act
so."

"I never imagined that," said Yoomy, "and, if I did, the truth would
belie me. It is you who are in fault, Babbalanja; not I, craving your
pardon."

"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