"King Normo had a fool, called Willi, whom he loved to humor. Now,
though Willi ever obeyed his lord, by the very instinct of his
servitude, he flattered himself that he was free; and this conceit it
was, that made the fool so entertaining to the king. One day, said
Normo to his fool,--'Go, Willi, to yonder tree, and wait there till I
come,' 'Your Majesty, I will,' said Willi, bowing beneath his jingling
bells; 'but I presume your Majesty has no objections to my walking on
my hands:--I am free, I hope.' 'Perfectly,' said Normo, 'hands or
feet, it's all the same to me; only do my bidding.' 'I thought as
much,' said Willi; so, swinging his limber legs into the air, Willi,
thumb after thumb, essayed progression. But soon, his bottled blood so
rushed downward through his neck, that he was fain to turn a somerset
and regain his feet. Said he, 'Though I am free to do it, it's not so
easy turning digits into toes; I'll walk, by gad! which is my other
option.' So he went straight forward, and did King Normo's bidding in
the natural way."

"A curious story that," said Media; "whence came it?"

"My lord, where every thing, but one, is to be had:--within."

"You are charged to the muzzle, then," said Braid-Beard. "Yes, Mohi;
and my talk is my overflowing, not my fullness."

"And what may you be so full of?"

"Of myself."

"So it seems," said Mohi, whisking away a fly with his beard.