"This," said the King, as he motioned _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME into
his state carriage, and vaulted in after them with as much agility as
his sword and boots would permit, "is the uniform of the Baratarian
Die-hards, of which regiment I am honorary Colonel."

Thus they drove to the balloon station, at which the Imperial guest
was expected. After a few minutes, a sound of cheering was heard.

"He's coming," observed the King. "Have I got my kissing face on?"

_Mr. Punch_ reassured him. A moment afterwards the state-balloon
of BARATARIA soared up to the platform, and a young man, gorgeously
attired in the uniform of the Tenth (Jupiter's Own) Lancers, sprang
lightly from it.

Loud pealed the loyal anthem, and rattled all the drums,
And, as the guard presented, the cry went up, "He comes!"
He steps upon the platform, and, while the plaudits ring,
A King hangs round an Emperor's neck, an Emperor hugs a King;
And, with impartial kisses on both cheeks duly pressed,
The guest does homage to his host, the host salutes his guest.

The Emperor then, having shaken _Mr. Punch_ warmly by the hand,
departed with his royal host. After this, the three potentates,
_Punch_ the Only, FOOZLER THE FIFTH, and the Baratarian Emperor,
called upon one another at intervals of half an hour. This process
occupied the afternoon.

For the evening a state-ball at the Royal Palace had been announced.
Thither, at the appointed hour, _Mr. Punch_ and his hoary associate