less than a somnambulist. And
though Wine be a jolly blade at the board, a sulky knave is he under a
blanket. I know him of old. Yet, your Highness, for all this, to many
a Mardian, suppers are still better than dinners, at whatever cost
purchased Forasmuch, as many have more leisure to sup, than dine. And
though you demi-gods, may dine at your ease; and dine it out into
night: and sit and chirp over your Burgundy, till the morning larks
join your crickets, and wed matins to vespers;--far otherwise, with us
plebeian mortals. From our dinners, we must hie to our anvils: and the
last jolly jorum evaporates in a cark and a care."

"Methinks he relapses," said Abrazza.

"It waxes late," said Mohi; "your Highnesses, is it not time to break
up?"

"No, no!", cried Abrazza; "let the day break when it will: but no
breakings for us. It's only midnight. This way with the wine; pass it
along, my dear Media. We are young yet, my sweet lord; light hearts
and heavy purses; short prayers and long rent-rolls. Pass round the
Tokay! We demi-gods have all our old age for a dormitory. Come!--Round
and round with the flagons! Let them disappear like mile-stones on a
race-course!"

"Ah!" murmured Babbalanja, holding his full goblet at arm's length on
the board, "not thus with the hapless wight, born with a hamper on his
back, and blisters in his palms.--Toil and sleep--sleep and toil, are
his days and his nights; he goes to bed with a lumbago, and wakes with
the rheumatics;--I know what it is;--he snatches lunches, not dinners,
and makes of all life a cold snack! Yet praise be to Oro,
though to such men dinners are scarce worth the eating; nevertheless,
praise Oro again, a good supper is something. Off jack-boots; nay, off
shirt, if you will, and go at it. Hurrah! the fagged day is done: the
last blow is an echo. Twelve long hours to sunrise! And would it were
an Antarctic night, and six months to to-morrow! But, hurrah! the very
bees have their hive, and after a day's weary wandering, hie home to
their honey. So they stretch out their stiff legs, rub their lame
elbows, and putting their tired right arms in a sling, set the others
to fetching and carrying from dishes to dentals, from foaming flagon
to the demijohn which never pours out at the end you pour in. Ah!
after all, the poorest devil in Mardi lives not in vain. There's a
soft side to the hardest oak-plank in the world!"

"Methinks I have heard some such sentimental gabble as thi