matters.

So, as Mrs. Pedagog was pouring the coffee, Mr. Whitechoker began:

"Do you gentlemen ever pause in your every-day labors and thought to let
your minds rest upon the future--the possibilities it has in store for
us, the consequences which--"

"No mush, thank you," said the Idiot. Then turning to Mr. Whitechoker, he
added: "I can't answer for the other gentlemen at this board, but I can
assure you, Mr. Whitechoker, that I often do so. It was only last night,
sir, that my genial friend who imbibes and I were discussing the future
and its possibilities, and I venture to assert that there is no more
profitable food for reflection anywhere in the larders of the mind than
that."

"Larders of the mind is excellent," said the School-Master, with a touch
of sarcasm in his voice. "Perhaps you would not mind opening the door to
your mental pantry, and letting us peep within at the stores you keep
there. I am sure that on the subject in hand your views cannot fail to be
original as well as edifying."

"I am also sure," said Mr. Whitechoker, somewhat surprised to hear the
Idiot speak as he did, having sometimes ventured to doubt if that
flippant-minded young man ever reflected on the serious side of life--"I
am also sure that it is most gratifying to hear that you have done some
thinking on the subject."

"I am glad you are gratified, Mr. Whitechoker," replied the Idiot, "but
I am far from taking undue credit to myself because I reflect upon the
future and its possibilities. I do not see how any man can fail to be
interested in the subject, particularly when he considers the great
strides science has made in the last twenty years."

"I fail to see," said the School-Master, "what the strides of science
have to do with it."

"You fail to see so often, Mr. Pedagog," returned the Idiot, "that I
would advise your eyes to make an assignment in favor of your pupils."

"I must confess," put in Mr. Whitechoker, blandly, "that I too am
somewhat--er--somewhat--"

"Somewhat up a tree as to science's connection with the future?" queried
the Idiot.

"You have my meaning, but hardly the phraseology I should have chosen,"
replied the minister.

"My style is rather epigrammatic," said the Idiot, suavely. "I appreciate
the flattery implied by your noticing it. But science has everything to
do with it. It is science that is going to make the future great. It is
science that has annihilated distance, and the annihilation has ju