" "Oh, thou scion of evil," cried she, "no one
need a worse hell than to be with thee--thou art enough." Then the crier
called, "Huntress, alias Mistress o' the Breeches." "Here," answered
someone else, she herself not saying a word because they did not "madam"
her. Next was called the Schemer, alias Jack-of-all-Trades. But he,
too, failed to answer, for he was assiduously plotting to escape the Land
of Despair. "Here, here," cried someone behind him, "here he is spying
for a place to break out of your great court, and unless you be on your
guard, he has a considerable plot against you." "Then," said the
Schemer, "Let him also be called, to wit, The Accuser-of-his-Brethren,
alias Faultfinder, alias Complaint-monger." "Here, here he is," cried
the Litigious Wrangler--for each one knew the other's name, but none
would acknowledge his own. "You are also called," said the Accuser, "Mr.
Litigious Wrangler, alias Cumber-of-Courts." "Witness, witness, all of
you, what names the knave has given me," cried the Wrangler. "Ha, ha,
'tis not according to the font, but according to the fault, that
everybody is named in this land," said Death, "and with your permission,
Mr.
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