We joined a great rout of people, all rubbing their hands, who were pouring down a street in the direction of an open square; and when we reached it, we saw in the center, on a platform above the heads of the crowd, a man in a robe, who was evidently about to read from a paper held in his hand. “Your second chance,” said the Guardian of the Gate. “I will leave you to your choice. Be careful how you choose.” He turned away, and disappeared in the crowd. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” cried the man on the platform. “A message from the King! Whereas the affliction of the itching palm has now become so grievous that it can no longer be endured, the King now offers, to such person as shall cure him, one-half of all the dead leaves in his treasury! And to him also he promises one-half of all the dead leaves belonging to each person whom he shall cure! The offer is open to all! Be diligent! Thus saith the King!” The messenger got down, and immediately there arose near the platform a commotion, with much laughter, and those in that neighborhood began to cry out: “Way for the Lord Buffo! Make way for the wise Lord Buffo!” _A Dwarf Clad in Motley Stands up to Speak_ A singular figure now mounted the platform, facing in our direction. He was a dwarf, hunchbacked and thickset, with a very large head set deep in his shoulders, and arms which hung to his knees. His clothing was of squares of yellow and blue and green and orange, and on his head he wore a paper crown, rimmed around at the top with little bells. With his right hand he pulled up by a cord a small monkey, dressed in all respects like himself; and in his other hand he held the long tail feather of a cock. “The King’s Fool,” said one of the bystanders in my ear. The Fool waved the feather, and the crowd settled itself to listen. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” he cried, in a loud, harsh voice. At this the people shouted, “Go on, go on!” The monkey leaped up on to the dwarf’s shoulder, and the dwarf proceeded, with the greatest gravity. “I, Buffo, chief counselor to his most gracious majesty, King Fatchaps, do call upon you to hearken to the voice of Wisdom!” “Wisdom! That’s good!” laughed the crowd,--never ceasing to rub their palms and dance up and down the while. “First I must tell you, my loyal subjects, that you are all mad. Do you believe it?” “Yes! yes! Of course!” shouted the crowd, still laughing. “Give ear, and I will prove it to you! Thus! Answer me! Isn’t there enough in our city for all, to feed you and clothe you and shelter you and amuse you? Answer!” “True!” cried many persons in the throng. “Then why are there some among you who starve, and others who cast out of their abundance to the dogs? Tell me that!” No one replied.