"Much more so, my lord," said Babbalanja; "for Mohi has somehow picked
up all my worthless forgettings, which are more than my valuable
rememberings."

"What say you, wise one?" cried Mohi, shaking his braids, like an
enraged elephant with many trunks.

Said Yoomy: "My lord, I have heard that amber is nothing less than the
congealed tears of broken-hearted mermaids."

"Absurd, minstrel," cried Mohi. "Hark ye; I know what it is. All other
authorities to the contrary, amber is nothing more than gold-fishes'
brains, made waxy, then firm, by the action of the sea."

"Nonsense!" cried Yoomy.

"My lord," said Braid-Beard, waving his pipe, this thing is just as I
say. Imbedded in amber, do we not find little fishes' fins, porpoise-
teeth, sea-gulls' beaks and claws; nay, butterflies' wings, and
sometimes a topaz? And how could that be, unless the substance was
first soft? Amber is gold-fishes' brains, I say."

"For one," said Babbalanja, "I'll not believe that, till you prove to
me, Braid-Beard, that ideas themselves are found imbedded therein."

"Another of your crazy conceits, philosopher," replied Mohi,
disdainfully; "yet, sometimes plenty of strange black-letter
characters have been discovered in amber." And throwing back his hoary
old head, he jetted forth his vapors like a whale.