Mr. Punch_.

"Not so odd as the subject," replied the singer. "But you have only
heard the first verse; wait till you know the second."

"'But they didn't tell the public; it's a precious, jolly shame;'
(Such behaviour to the public seems to shock it)--
Now if _you'd_ been placed behind the scenes you wouldn't think the same,
But put principles and winnings in your pocket.
A gent who owns a stable doesn't always think of _you_,
And he doesn't seem to fancy profit-sharing.
And you really shouldn't curse him when he manages a 'do.'
With a favourite who's only on an airing."

Before the singer could proceed any farther, a frightful hubbub arose.
A pale, gasping wretch, rushed past, pursued by a howling, cursing mob
of ruffians. As he fled, he tripped, and fell, and in a moment they
were on the top of him, buffeting, and beating the very life out of
him.

"That's murder," said _Mr. Punch_. "Where are the police?"

And he was on the point of stepping down, to render assistance, when
his friend laid a hand upon his arm.

"Oh, that's only a welsher," he said; "he's bolting with other
people's money."

"Is it the owner of the chestnut?" inquired Father TIME.

"Bless your heart, no," was the reply. "It's only a low-class cheat.
The owner of the chestnut is--"

But _Mr. Punch_ had no wish to hear or see more.

He took TIME's arm, and together they floated away into space, to land
shortly afterwards in another sphere.

* * * * *

VISIT TO POLLUX.

The street in which they had descended was situated in the heart of a
great city. The roar of traffic sounded in their ears from the larger
thoroughfares close by. Most of the houses were small and mean--a
remarkable contrast to one large building, brilliantly lighted, in
front of which a mob was gathered together. A more ruffianly-looking
assemblage it would have been hard to discover. The rest of the street
was filled with hansoms, the long line of which was constantly being
augmented by fresh arrivals, whose occupants sprang out and swiftly
mounted a flight of steps leading up to the entrance of the large
building mentioned, and passed through swing-doors of glass, which
gave admission to a broad passage. In front of this house the Sage
paused, and addressed his companion.

"Venerable One," he said, for he had become aware of a reluctance on
the part of the Lord of the Hour-Glass, "have no fear. We are now,
as