One butting with his carious and brittle old frontlet; the other pushing with its silly head before its horns are sprouted.

But this comes of being impartial.

Had I espoused the cause of Yoomy versus Mohi, or that of Mohi versus Yoomy, I had been sure to have had at least one voice in my favor.

The impartialist insulteth all sides, saith old Bardianna; but smite with but one hand, and the other shall be kissed .-- Oh incomparable Bardianna!" "Will no one lay that troubled old ghost," exclaimed Media, devoutly.
"Proceed with thy legend, Yoomy; and see to it, that it be brief; for I mistrust me, these legends do but test the patience of the hearers.
But draw a long breath, and begin." "A long bow," muttered Mohi.
And Yoomy began.
"It is now about ten hundred thousand moons--" "Great Oro! How long since, say you ?" cried Mohi, making Gothic arches of his brows.
Looking at him disdainfully, but vouchsafing no reply, Yoomy began over again.
"It is now above ten hundred thousand moons, since there died the last of a marvelous race, once inhabiting the very shores by which we are sailing.

They were a very diminutive people, only a few inches high--" "Stop, minstrel," cried Mohi; "how many pennyweights did they weigh ?" Continued Yoomy, unheedingly, "They were covered all over with a soft, silky down, like that on the rind of the Avee; and there grew upon their heads a green, lance-leaved vine, of a most delicate texture.