forest fire, Hungarian gipsies silent sit; watching the ruddy glow
kindling each other's faces;--so, now we solemn sat; the crimson West
our fire; all our faces flushed.

"Testators!" then cried Media, when your last wills are all round
settled, speak, and make it known!"

"Mine, my lord, has long been fixed," said Babbalanja.

"And how runs it?"

"Fugle-fogle--"

"Hark ye, intruding Azzageddi! rejoin thy merry mates below;--go
there, and wag thy saucy tail; or I will nail it to our bow, till ye
roar for liberation. Begone, I say."

"Down, devil! deeper down!" rumbled Babbalanja.

"My lord, I think he's gone. And now, by your good leave, I'll repeat
old Bardianna's Will. It's worth all Mardi's hearing; and I have so
studied it, by rote I know it."

"Proceed then; but I mistrust that Azzageddi is not yet many thousand
fathoms down."

"Attend my lord:---'Anno Mardis 50,000,000, o.s. I, Bardianna, of the
island of Vamba, and village of the same name, having just risen from
my yams, in high health, high spirits, and sound mind, do hereby
cheerfully make and ordain this my last will and testament.