It's as common as death, or as debts,
To find gentlemen making their money
Out of shops for the making of bets.

The stout puffy old fellow there is the wealthiest man in Jupiter.
He floats mines, asteroid mines mostly, and makes it pay him. He
can command the very best society. Those ladies clustering round the
Prince-Royal come from over the ocean. Pretty, but twangy. A fresh
consignment arrives every year. And the Prince-Royal has the pick of
them."

[Illustration]

But before _Mr. Punch_ could finish his explanatory sketch, a
tremendous uproar was heard in the court-yard of the Palace. There
was a sound as of a huge mob shouting in unison, shots were heard, and
cries of "Liberty for Ever:" vent the air. The royal guests were in
a state of terrible agitation. An orderly covered with mud forced his
way through the crowd, up the stairs, and stood before the King.

"Your Majesty," he panted, "a revolution has broken out. The populace
has erected barricades, the deposition of your House has been
declared, and a Republic proclaimed. The mob is now marching to the
Palace."

The King drew himself up to his full height. Where are my Golf-clubs?
he asked in a calm voice.

"Your Majesty, they have been seized and secreted."