that matter."

"Golf, sir," retorted Boswell, sententiously, "is the same everywhere,
and that which is dome in our world is directly in line with what is
developed in yours."

"I'm sorry for Hades," said I; "but to continue about golf--do the
ladies play much on your links?"

"Well, rather," returned Boswell, "and it's rather amusing to watch them
at it, too. Xanthippe with her Greek clothes finds it rather difficult;
but for rare sport you ought to see Queen Elizabeth trying to keep her
eye on the ball over her ruff! It really is one of the finest spectacles
you ever saw."

"But why don't they dress properly?"

"Ah," sighed Boswell, "that is one of the things about Hades that
destroys all the charm of life there. We are but shades."

"Granted," said I, "but your garments can--"

"Our garments can't," said Boswell. "Through all eternity we shades of
our former selves are doomed to wear the shadows of our former clothes."

"Then what the devil does a poor dress-maker do who goes to Hades?" I
cried.

"She makes over the things she made before," said Boswell. "That's why,
my dear fellow," the biographer added, becoming confidential--"that's
why some people confound Hades with--ah--the other place, don't you
know."

"Still, there's golf!" I said; "and that's a panacea for all ills. YOU
enjoy it, don't you?"

"Me?" cried Boswell. "Me enjoy it? Not on all the lives in Christendom.
It is the direst drudgery for me."

"Drudgery?" I said. "Bah! Nonsense, Boswell!"

"You forget--" he began.

"Forget? It must be you who forget, if you call golf drudgery."

"No," sighed the genial spirit. "No, _I_ don't forget. I remember."

"Remember what?" I demanded.

"That I am Dr. Johnson's caddy!" was the answer. And then came a
heart-rending sigh, and from that time on all was silence. I repeatedly
put questions to the machine, made observations to it, derided it,
insulted it, but there was no response.

It has so continued to this day, and I can only conclude the story of my
Enchanted Type-writer by saying that I presume golf has taken the same
hold upon Hades that it has upon this world, and that I need not hope
to hear more from that attractive region until the game has relaxed its
grip, which I know can never be.

Hence let me say to those who have been good enough to follow me through
the realms of the Styx that I bid them an affectionate farewell and
thank them for their kind attention to my chronicles. They a