An Object was walking along the King’s
highway wrapped in meditation and with little else
on, when he suddenly found himself at the gates of
a strange city. On applying for admittance, he
was arrested as a necessitator of ordinances, and
taken before the King.
“Who are you,” said the
King, “and what is your business in life?”
“Snouter the Sneak,” replied
the Object, with ready invention; “pick-pocket.”
The King was about to command him
to be released when the Prime Minister suggested
that the prisoner’s fingers be examined.
They were found greatly flattened and calloused
at the ends.
“Ha!” cried the King;
“I told you so! — he is addicted to counting
syllables. This is a poet. Turn him over
to the Lord High Dissuader from the Head Habit.”
“My liege,” said the Inventor-in-Ordinary
of Ingenious Penalties, “I venture to suggest
a keener affliction.
“Name it,” the King said.
“Let him retain that head!”
It was so ordered.
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