oic avenue
appeared the palace of Saturn. Ascending a hundred steps of black
marble, you stood before a portico supported by twenty columns of the
same material and shading a single portal of bronze. Apparently the
palace formed an immense quadrangle; a vast tower rising from each
corner, and springing from the centre a huge and hooded dome. A crowd of
attendants, in grey and sad-coloured raiment, issued from the portal
of the palace at the approach of Proserpine, who remarked with strange
surprise their singular countenances and demeanour; for rare in this
silent assemblage was any visage resembling aught she had seen, human
or divine. Some bore the heads of bats; of owls and beetles others;
some fluttered moth-like wings, while the shoulders of other bipeds were
surmounted, in spite of their human organisation, with the heads of rats
and weasels, of marten-cats and of foxes. But they were all remarkably
civil; and Proserpine, who was now used to wonders, did not shriek at
all, and scarcely shuddered.

The Queen of Hell was ushered through a superb hall, and down a splendid
gallery, to a suite of apartments where a body of damsels of a most
distinguished appearance awaited her. Their heads resembled those of the
most eagerly-sought, highly-prized, and oftenest-stolen lap-dogs.
Upon the shoulders of one was the visage of the smallest and most
thorough-bred little Blenheim in the world. Upon her front was a white
star, her nose was nearly flat, and her ears were tied under her chin,
with the most jaunty air imaginable. She was an evident flirt; and a
solemn prude of a spaniel, with a black and tan countenance, who seemed
a sort of duenna, evidently watched her with no little distrust. The
admirers of blonde beauties would, however, have fallen in love with
a poodle, with the finest head of hair imaginable, and most voluptuous
shoulders. This brilliant band began barking in the most insinuating
tone on the appearance of the Queen; and Manto, who was almost as
dexterous a linguist as Tiresias himself, informed her Majesty that
these were the ladies of her bed-chamber; upon which Proserpine, who, it
will be remembered had no passion for dogs, ordered them immediately out
of her room.

'What a droll place!' exclaimed the Queen. 'Do you know, we are later
than I imagined? A hasty toilet to-day; I long to see Saturn. It is
droll, I am hungry. My purple velvet, I think; it may be considered a
compliment. No diamonds, only jet