time to
think about the future, and indeed, we shall have it in our own hands,
and can furnish any kind we like, by Ballot. Ballot is better than
Natural Selection. Natural Selection is all very well; but it does not
know what we want. We do.'

'Science may be allowed her dreams as well as Theology,' said the
Professor rather shamefacedly.

'But you can't bring about a new sub-kingdom, or the kingdom of heaven
either, by Act of Parliament.'

'Why not?' returned the Democrat confidently. 'It is only to get a
majority; and there you are, you know!'

'My brethren,' said the Bishop, inspired thereto, as the Owl observed,
by reflex action, 'Perfection is not of this world!'

'It will be though,' replied the Democrat cheerfully,' before we have
done with it. Bless you, Perfection will be upon you before you have
time to turn round! That is the beauty of the New Democracy. You have
merely to be abolished, and then we get a majority, and then, you know,
there we are!'

'What will you do with the minority?' said the Professor grumpily. 'How
about Proportional Representation?'

'Oh, the minority?' said the Democrat. 'Well, it will be all right--you
will see how right it will be if you give us a majority. We have
everybody's interests at heart--deeply at heart!' he added hopefully.
'We first pass a Bill for the manufacture (National Monopoly) of all
the cardinal virtues at reduced prices--may be ordered direct from the
Company, carriage paid; and then a Bill for the repression of all the
Cardinal Crimes, which the Company is also willing to buy up at market
value, for exportation--and then, you see, there we are!'

'Where are you?' said the Professor sharply.

'Where?' replied the Democrat, looking puzzled for a moment, but soon
recovering himself triumphantly. 'Where? oh, we are there, you know.
_There_ we are!'

'Humph!' ejaculated the Professor, turning on his heel. The Bishop
turned away also, saying that he had an engagement, and the Democrat
followed him, talking very fast and bringing forward arguments. When
they reached the gate there was a sad, perplexed look upon the Bishop's
face, and finally shaking off his companion by an effort of the will, he
entered the nearest churchyard and began to meditate upon mortality. The
Democrat, observing in an acrid voice that he had something better to
do with mortality than to meditate upon it, turned away reluctantly
from the gate, and began to compose a popular ode, whi