{"id":"01KG8AKYV14F9168VVZF0BC0PY","cid":"bafkreiff57y4au5j7t5sdubtvl5w556dxmm4mplyahyxcuajg2uywqmoeq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":10406,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:18.539Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1HYC04JWXEK48P07WPK","start_line":10330,"text":"CHAPTER XCV.\r\nThat Jolly Old Lord Borabolla Laughs On Both Sides Of His Face\r\n\r\n\r\n“A very good palace, this, coz, for you and me,” said waddling old\r\nBorabolla to Media, as, returned from our excursion, he slowly lowered\r\nhimself down to his mat, sighing like a grampus.\r\n\r\nBy this, he again made known the vastness of his hospitality, which led\r\nhim for the nonce to parcel out his kingdom with his guests.\r\n\r\nBut apart from these extravagant expressions of good feeling, Borabolla\r\nwas the prince of good fellows. His great tun of a person was\r\nindispensable to the housing of his bullock-heart; under which, any\r\nlean wight would have sunk. But alas! unlike Media and Taji, Borabolla,\r\nthough a crowned king, was accounted no demi-god; his obesity excluding\r\nhim from that honor. Indeed, in some quarters of Mardi, certain pagans\r\nmaintain, that no fat man can be even immortal. A dogma! truly, which\r\nshould be thrown to the dogs. For fat men are the salt and savor of the\r\nearth; full of good humor, high spirits, fun, and all manner of\r\njollity. Their breath clears the atmosphere: their exhalations air the\r\nworld. Of men, they are the good measures; brimmed, heaped, pressed\r\ndown, piled up, and running over. They are as ships from Teneriffe;\r\nswimming deep, full of old wine, and twenty steps down into their\r\nholds. Soft and susceptible, all round they are easy of entreaty.\r\nWherefore, for all their rotundity, they are too often circumnavigated\r\nby hatchet-faced knaves. Ah! a fat uncle, with a fat paunch, and a fat\r\npurse, is a joy and a delight to all nephews; to philosophers, a\r\nsubject of endless speculation, as to how many droves of oxen and Lake\r\nEries of wine might have run through his great mill during the full\r\nterm of his mortal career. Fat men not immortal! This very instant, old\r\nLambert is rubbing his jolly abdomen in Paradise.\r\n\r\nNow, to the fact of his not being rated a demi-god, was perhaps\r\nascribable the circumstance, that Borabolla comported himself with less\r\ndignity, than was the wont of their Mardian majesties. And truth to\r\nsay, to have seen him regaling himself with one of his favorite\r\ncuttle-fish, its long snaky arms and feelers instinctively twining\r\nround his head as he ate; few intelligent observers would have opined\r\nthat the individual before them was the sovereign lord of Mondoldo.\r\n\r\nBut what of the banquet of fish? Shall we tell how the old king\r\nungirdled himself thereto; how as the feast waxed toward its close,\r\nwith one sad exception, he still remained sunny-sided all round; his\r\ndisc of a face joyous as the South Side of Madeira in the hilarious\r\nseason of grapes? Shall we tell how we all grew glad and frank; and how\r\nthe din of the dinner was heard far into night?\r\n\r\nWe will.\r\n\r\nWhen Media ate slowly, Borabolla took him to task, bidding him dispatch\r\nhis viands more speedily.\r\n\r\nWhereupon said Media “But Borabolla, my round fellow, that would\r\nabridge the pleasure.”\r\n\r\n“Not at all, my dear demi-god; do like me: eat fast and eat long.”\r\n\r\nIn the middle of the feast, a huge skin of wine was brought in. The\r\nportly peltry of a goat; its horns embattling its effigy head; its\r\nmouth the nozzle; and its long beard flowed to its jet-black hoofs.\r\nWith many ceremonial salams, the attendants bore it along, placing it\r\nat one end of the convivial mats, full in front of Borabolla; where\r\nseated upon its haunches it made one of the party.\r\n\r\nBrimming a ram’s horn, the mellowest of bugles, Borabolla bowed to his\r\nsilent guest, and thus spoke—“In this wine, which yet smells of the\r\ngrape, I pledge you my reverend old toper, my lord Capricornus; you\r\nalone have enough; and here’s full skins to the rest!”\r\n\r\n“How jolly he is,” whispered Media to Babbalanja.\r\n\r\n“Ay, his lungs laugh loud; but is laughing, rejoicing?”\r\n\r\n“Help! help!” cried Borabolla “lay me down! lay me down! good gods,\r\nwhat a twinge!”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJWVXP1AG1AXTK9P7B2C5","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1HYC04JWXEK48P07WPK","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKYV1HPCWMZQH6WZRZTHH","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:21.345Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:33.424Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}