But when that Esperitus were halted to consider, lo, there saw he a second man a-dangling also from a root, he also having a frenetic beard.  And this one did cry, Nay, deliver him not; rather, deliver me in stead.  For I judge that my life meaneth more than his—tho, I know him not; still, I know that my life holdeth excepsionel meaning.  (And he struck profilis profundis, the profound profile.)

And Esperitus looketh into the sky, and raiseth up his hands in mimicry of hiding, that those in the cart should see his comedy, and should laugh upon hearing him to say, What be the punch; Whence droppeth the other sandal?  And Esperitus shaken his head to clear away his humer.  And he approacht unto the precipice and spake unto the rootsters, saying: An I set to saving, would I then to lift up the one, leaving the other to his strands?  Mark, ’tis not that I have set mine heart to such saving; but I say, If.  And there were some silence, which the Moo found benefisial.

Then cried the first, Save me, for mine head bursteth with the visions of a prophet.  Yea, per hap I am a prophet.  Yea, sure, ’tis certain—I am.  So, there is no choice, old bone: save me.  Right here.

And the other cried, Save me; and if an there be any reward, we will gambel for shares.

And those there in the cart which the Moo bore toward the seat of discomfert did cry, Save this one; or, Save that.  And they did wager, and attempt to peddle influences, and did continue their revelry, and discusst the concernt faces of these two bedanglers, which were amusing.  And the precarius pair considerd new and trenchant things to say.

Then said the second clingling, What hath all this telling truths and such, to do with whom thou oughtst to save?  It hath been mine experience that who telleth truth and who saith some timely lies, hath least to do with saveworthiness.  (’Tis but a thought, cart-wheeler; an offering to be appended unto all those other, darker thoughts which thou, so brutally creast of brow, art marshalling up like as thundor clouds gathring in thine own furius flashing mindoscape.  After thy tempest hath broken upon us, hap then shalt thou feel better—and ach! so long as thou feelst better, what else unto the rest of us oughts matter?)

And said that second wildbeardsman again, I do me swear: since I were a genderless child have I not been so disappointnd, as since I slipt from the old path up there. 

And the first said, Anguish, and frustrasien, and cold uncertainty, they are destroying me, gutting me out like as fishwife gutteth catch. 

But the rootsnaggarts wound to accord in one complaint, complaining that few who passt by shew sufficient interest.  Said they both, These hurryhounds, who hurry past, telling their little ones not to look: how could they not treasure to meet us?  ’Tis their loss. Unto some we might have been gurus; paramours to others; fonts of humor and joy.  I jape the ape, we might have cried, and O the glee we might have glommd!  We might have taughten them songs and prayers and curses, the how to set them up and the when to air them out.  All together might we have danst and smelld the world, and swap-ed annick doats of beatings by our parents, and rankt the victual of jails from here to the Trench of Mesphitophilus, first-to-worst.  ’Tis their loss.  Born to lose, that were the story of those patheddic hurryhounds.  

And the Moo spake and said, Thou first rootnik, for how long hast thou dangld?

And the rootsnatch answered and said, For a week, as judg-ed by the expansian of my boil.  And the second threw in and said, Well, I know that I have dangld for nine days, having bitten off a toe each evening, with but six remaining.  I am the weatherd of hangsters here, and oughts be restored preferensially.

But the first cried out, saying, Nay; rather, being weatherd, art thou better conditiend to hanging here, in whatsoever this old mount should to toss upon thee.  Marry, when first I fell, I thought thee a naturel crop upon the wall, and a living root; that is how good that thou hast become out here.  And he saith unto Esperitus the Moo, See, honored journeyman, how that his presence lendeth dimensien unto the face of Nine Differents Heavens.  He fairly belongeth out here for ever, certainly, with the ivy and the slugs and sloths; whereas I, which despoil the space I do displace, belong elsawhere—up there, on that ignominius old pigspath, to brood and murmur in shame concerning my lack of any true place out here.

And the riders which were in the cart cried, Save neither, in fact; for we have wagerd smart money concerning how long they might to cling, when that we have set to flicking pebbles and dancing stones offen them.  For they are whereat they deserven to be, of course.  Any that cometh unto such predicoment surely had fouled his figleaf before the gods, and corrupted their godly nostrils with fumes, and therefore hath been hung here to receive pebblage, and no deliverance.  And they cried, Let them dangol, Let them hangue.  And their reveling, and crashing, and rocking, caus-ed the cart to shake, and to rattel, and to threat dangerously to roll.

Then, horrors, O!  For crumbld the path neath that harasst cart; and before the allsuffring eyes of Esperitus, it were snatcht away into the chasm.  And behold, every rider which once were up there laffing in the cart, now hangd upon one root or another along the face of the mount.  Spake the pullerman (Esperitus the pully Moo): This is a time, when that a man needeth some leaves, to sit and smoke.  And he sat and smake and thought; but he could only think of women.

And they all cried, Save me.  And the crying were unto Esperitus like unto the flock’s chorus before the bitesome wolf.  And the perplexien of Esperitus the Moo only multiplied.  Yea verily, diffident were he to the notien that he or any one hath appointment to go correcting Destiny.  And he said unto them, In the midst of your own tragical reckoning, ye all have forgot a certain more tragic fact, that ’tis meet now to consider.  And they paus-ed in their tears, and sought that which he spake.  And he said again, Ye all have forgot, that a great and splendid wheelocart hath plummeted unto destruxien, snatcht down by heinous gravidy; and all that ye do, is to hang there fascinated in your own lifes.

Now came there up from the mount utter beseechments, and wailing, and the sound of tearing hair and gnashing teeth, and lewd proposol, and offers of jewels and dried fish and bizniss secrets.  And the four soldiers which hang-ed here and there did threat the Moo, saying, We will tear thee as cattle tear grass, if an thou save us not.  And the shepherd which there clung cried out, saying, My two sheep—say, they are thine, if an thou haul me to high.

And the Moo answered and said, Thy sheep are dead; for I see them, appearing as motes in the floor of yon chasm, moving not, and surely bash-ed.

And the shepherd came again and said, E’en better; they will need no tending.  Zound, that tending were scutwork.  All then that thou needs do is to pack them with salt, and in winter sit back and eat.   

false enlightenment of all who believd her ravings.  And she callt up to Esperitus and said, Haul me up, hansom, and I can help thee to make wheels for a new cart. 

But he answerd and said, All ready I know how.  And, I know where lieth an unguarded pile of crates for such makings.  But I me fear, that nevermore shall I acarting go; for mine heart hath gone down with that carryall. 

And she curst him sore, and flippt him gestures, and lost her self to snippets and hues.

Then said the hairbarber—fresh rippt from professienol reveries conjured by those rampant beards of the two veterans hanging—Wherein lieth thine hesitance, Moo?  Wherefore dalliest thou up there, making nought, whilst we all do cling hereunto, like as lice upon some hordesman’s shag?  Wherefore setst thou not about sua sponte, saving here, and delivering there?  Nought there be to consider, old shell.  When that people dangol, thou deliverest!  ’Tis threshold civility, and ought to be law.

And Esperitus the Moo lifted up his voice and said unto them, Hear me.  For ’tis made manifest, sadly, that I am not of the paste & paper of greatness. 

And they ceast for a season to clamour, that they might attend. 

And he continued, saying, Neither is it for me to fetch about, saving, and delivring, and restoring.  What, see ye in me some plentyfingered Pluck-Angel, bent to assert my ludicrus credentiol as god’s local branch, officiously gathering up for him those acorns that he in his reckless storms hath shaken down?  For ye are an few shaken acorns, hanging raw from raw breaks; but I am no angelic harvestor, nor divinely commissiend nutner.  Moreover, hap be there something of good bundled in all this bale, which ye have not discern-ed.  I would not go messing through god’s messages, for the fleeting joy of saving a few lifes.

Beside, saith Esperitus, Suspicien hath nested in mine open mind, that my shoulder might to be brake, for heavy is the lord upon my shoulder.  I should deem it a feat never seen at circus, that I on the half-shoulder be able to descend thither and redeem you; more like, there too go I, rootbound and braying, or basht upon the rocks in that continent below. Nay, sweet daughters; I cannot pixure the risk.

But there shall come one greater than I, who shall reach and pluck you up, and set you arights upon the path.  Sure, this is what I tell you.  An ye had treated kinder my pleasant cart, which now is killd down there, then might the hardloving lords have counseled me, I suppose, to reach and deliver you up.  But, as my cart is dead—charming debbotante, this were to be her coming out before the seat of tyranny—therefore hath my lordery gaind offense, and pulld a long face against you, suggesting nought unto me concerning you and your plights.  See then my countenance, which is rigid in respect of the lords’ quiet bias.  Any other time, I would be weepfing for you.