in
their country I found only one person who believed in a life "beyond the
grave," as we should say, though as the Lalugwumps are cannibals they
would say "beyond the stomach." In testimony to the consolatory value of
the doctrine of another life, I may say that this one true believer had in
this life a comparatively unsatisfactory lot, for in early youth he had
been struck by a flying stone from a volcano and had lost a considerable
part of his brain.

I cannot better set forth the nature and extent of the Lalugwumpian error
regarding this matter than by relating a conversation that occurred
between me and one of the high officers of the King's household--a man
whose proficiency in all the vices of antiquity, together with his service
to the realm in determining the normal radius of curvature in cats' claws,
had elevated him to the highest plane of political preferment. His name
was Gnarmag-Zote.

"You tell me," said he, "that the soul is immaterial. Now, matter is that
of which we can have knowledge through one or more of our senses. Of what
is immaterial--not matter--we can gain no knowledge in that way. How,
then, can we know anything about it?"

Perceiving that he did not rightly apprehend my position I abandoned it
and shifted the argument to another ground. "Consider," I said, "the
analogous case of a thought. You will hardly call thought material, yet we
know there are thoughts."

"I beg your pardon, but we do not know that. Thought is not a thing,
therefore cannot _be_ in any such sense, for example, as the hand _is_. We
use the word 'thought' to designate the result of an action of the brain,
precisely as we use the word 'speed' to designate the result of an action
of a horse's legs. But can it be said that speed _exists_ in the same way
as the legs which produce it exist, or in any way? Is it a thing?"

I was about to disdain to reply, when I saw an old man approaching, with
bowed head, apparently in deep distress. As he drew near he saluted my
distinguished interlocutor in the manner of the country, by putting out
his tongue to its full extent and moving it slowly from side to side.
Gnarmag-Zote acknowledged the civility by courteously spitting, and the
old man, advancing, seated himself at the great officer's feet, saying:
"Exalted Sir, I have just lost my wife by death, and am in a most
melancholy frame of mind. He who has mastered all the vices of the
ancients and wrested from nature the secret of