you will, Fame is an accident; merit a thing absolute. But what
matter? Of what available value reputation, unless wedded to power,
dentals, or place? To those who render him applause, a poet's may seem
a thing tangible; but to the recipient, 'tis a fantasy; the poet never
so stretches his imagination, as when striving to comprehend what it
is; often, he is famous without knowing it."

"At the sacred games of Lazella," said Yoomy, "slyly crowned from
behind with a laurel fillet, for many hours, the minstrel Jarmi
wandered about ignorant of the honors he bore. But enlightened at
last, he doffed the wreath; then, holding it at arm's length, sighed
forth--Oh, ye laurels! to be visible to me, ye must be removed from my
brow!"

"And what said Botargo," cried Babbalanja, "hearing that his poems had
been translated into the language of the remote island of Bertranda?--
'It stirs me little; already, in merry fancies, have I dreamed of
their being trilled by the blessed houris in paradise; I can only
imagine the same of the damsels of Bertranda.' Says Boldo, the
Materialist,--'Substances alone are satisfactory.'"

"And so thought the mercenary poet, Zenzi," said Yoomy. "Upon
receiving fourteen ripe yams for a sonnet, one for every line, he said
to me, Yoomy, I shall make a better meal upon these, than upon so many
compliments."

"Ay," cried Babbalanja, "'Bravos,' saith old Bardianna, but induce
flatulency.'"

Said Media, "And do you famous mortals, then, take no pleasure in