forthcoming. It was growing late when Jamrach came to the margin
of what appeared to be a lake of black ink, and there the road
terminated. Seeing a Ferryman in his boat he paid something for
his passage and was about to embark.

"No," said the Ferryman. "Put your neck in this noose, and I will
tow you over. It is the only way," he added, seeing that the
passenger was about to complain of the accommodations.

In due time he was dragged across, half strangled, and dreadfully
beslubbered by the feculent waters. "There," said the Ferryman,
hauling him ashore and disengaging him, "you are now in the City of
Political Distinction. It has fifty millions of inhabitants, and
as the colour of the Filthy Pool does not wash off, they all look
exactly alike."

"Alas!" exclaimed Jamrach, weeping and bewailing the loss of all
his possessions, paid out in tips and tolls; "I will go back with
you."

"I don't think you will,", said the Ferryman, pushing off; "this
city is situated on the Island of the Unreturning."



The Party Over There



A MAN in a Hurry, whose watch was at his lawyer's, asked a Grave