"Then, my lord, you shall hear of him now. Midni was of opinion that
day-light was vulgar; good enough for taro-planting and traveling; but
wholly unadapted to the sublime ends of study. He toiled by night;
from sunset to sunrise poring over the works of the old logicans. Like
most philosophers, Midni was an amiable man; but one thing invariably
put him out. He read in the woods by glow-worm light; insect in hand,
tracing over his pages, line by line. But glow-worms burn not long:
and in the midst of some calm intricate thought, at some imminent
comma, the insect often expired, and Midni groped for a meaning. Upon
such an occasion, 'Ho, Ho,' he cried; 'but for one instant of sun-
light to see my way to a period!' But sun-light there was none; so
Midni sprang to his feet, and parchment under arm, raced about among
the sloughs and bogs for another glow-worm. Often, making a rapid
descent with his turban, he thought he had caged a prize; but nay.
Again he tried; yet with no better succcess. Nevertheless, at last he
secured one; but hardly had he read three lines by its light, when out
it went. Again and again this occurred. And thus he forever went
halting and stumbling through his studies, and plunging through his
quagmires after a glim."

At this ridiculous tale, one of our silliest paddlers burst into
uncontrollable mirth. Offended at which breach of decorum, Media
sharply rebuked him.

But he protested he could not help laughing.

Again Media was about to reprimand him, when Babbalanja begged leave
to interfere.