a little bell rope, and sung out "Clover." Then we could see through the
gate a Joblily lifting his head up out of a pond, inside the enclosure.

"How many eyes?" he asked.

"One," said the Garuly.

"How many leaves?" he said, again.

"Four," returned the Pickaninny.

"Then let them in that they may see the Great Panjandrum himself, and
learn whether there be a bag of gold at the end of the rainbow." Saying
this the Joblily went under the water and the gate opened.

We passed three gates, that were opened in the same manner, and found
ourselves in front of a queer old house, with seventy-seven gables and
ever so many doors, and over every door was written, "The Great
Panjandrum Himself." There was a great bustle about the place, dried-up
Garulies running around, dandy-looking Pickaninnies hopping about, and
Joblilies swimming in the lake. We asked what it all meant, and were told
that "she was going to marry the barber;" and then they all tittered, and
we could not for the life of us tell what this pother meant. When we told
a Garuly that we wanted to see the Great Panjandrum himself, and to find
out whether there was a bag of gold at the end of the rainbow, he took
our one-eyed beetle, and gave the four-leaved clover to a Pickaninny.
Together they took them into the house, and a Joblily came out in a
moment to tell us that the Great Panjandrum was having his little round
button-at-the-top brushed up, and that if we chose we could wait for him
in the museum.

The museum was a queer place. It was just inside the seventy-seventh
gable of the house. There was an old Garuly who acted as showman. We
first stopped before a cage that contained a crazy mouse. "This," said
the showman, "is the mouse that ran up the clock. Just as he got up
there, the clock struck one, and though the poor fellow ran back again,
he has never been right since. This long slender cow, that you see, has a
great taste for music. She is the one that jumped over the moon when the
cat played the fiddle. The cat has never been allowed to play since. This
is the little dog that laughed on that occasion. He was so much amused
that he has never been able to get his face straight since. In this pot
you see some of the cold plum porridge, with the eating of which the man
in the South burnt his mouth. Here is a portrait of the man in the moon,
when he came down too soon to inquire the way to Norwich. In one of the
other gables of this house I can show y