HOW IT WILL BE DONE HEREAFTER.
(A Serene Ducal Romance of the Future.)
His Highness was smoking a pipe at the close of the day in the fair realm of Utopia. He had finished dinner, and was discussing his lager beer, which had quite taken the place of coffee.
"Dear me," said the Duke, rather anxiously, as he noticed the Premier was seating himself in a chair in his near neighbourhood; "I am afraid I am in disgrace."
"Not at all, Sir," replied the Minister, graciously. "On the contrary, in the name of the people of Utopia, I beg to offer you my sincere thanks."
"For what?" queried the Duke.
"For doing your duty, my liege. Not that that is a novelty, for, as a matter of fact, you are always doing it."
"I am pleased to hear you say so," observed His Highness; "as I was under the impression that I had rather shirked my engagements."
"Not at all, Sir—not at all. If you consult your memory, you will find you carried out to-day's programme to the letter."
"Had I not to lay a foundation stone, or something, this morning?"
"Assuredly; and you touched a cord as you were getting up, and immediately the machinery was set in motion, and the stone was duly laid. Much better than driving miles to have to stand in a drafty marquee."
"And had I not to open an exhibition?"
"Why, yes. And you opened it in due course. Your equerry represented you and ground out your speech from the portable phonograph."
"Well, really, that was very ingenious," remarked His Highness. "But was I not missed?"
"You would have been, Sir," returned the Premier, "had we not had the forethought to send down the lantern that gives you in a thousand different attitudes. By revolving the disc rapidly the most life-like presentment was offered immediately."
"Excellent! and did I do anything else?"
"Why your Highness has been hard at work all day attending reviews, opening canals, and even presiding at public dinners. Thanks to science we can reproduce your person, your speech, your very presence at a moment's notice."
"Exceedingly clever!" exclaimed His Highness. "Ah, how much better is the twentieth century than its predecessor!"
And no doubt the sentiment of His Highness will be approved by posterity.
HOLIDAY CHARACTER SKETCHES.
Little Binks loves Clara Purkiss, who loves Big Stanley Jones, who loves himself and nobody else in the World!
Which is the most to be pitied of the three?