made where I liked, and all this in connexion with my candidateship for the ruling of a solar system,—all this made me so peevish that day. When I recovered a little at sunset, for discontent is a sickness exactly,—this sickness reminded me of the Japanese stone-cutter, and perhaps I only thought this history aloud, in order to take the last drop of the medicine which I felt that I wanted, whilst I imposed upon myself by saying that I did it out of benevolence for the child. But she, the child, cured me, for some days at least, better than any tale.
“Oepi! There was a man who cut stones out of a rock. This labour was heavy, and he laboured much; but his wages were small, and he was not content. He sighed because his labour was heavy, and he cried, ‘O that I were rich, in order to rest on a baleh-baleh[1] with klamboo.’[2]
“And there came an angel out of heaven, who said, ‘Be it as you have said.’
“And he was rich. And he rested on a baleh-baleh, and the klamboo was of red silk.
“And the king of the country passed with horsemen before his carriage, and likewise behind the carriage there were horsemen, and the golden pajong[3] was held over the head of the king.
