'Come, my noble Porphyrion,' said Tiresias, 'bestir thyself, I beseech thee. I have brought thee a Queen. Guide her Majesty, I entreat thee, with safety through this awful passage of Night.'

   'What a horrible creature,' whispered Proserpine. 'I wonder you address him with such courtesy.'

   'I am always courteous,' replied Tiresias. 'How know I that the Titans may not yet regain their lost heritage? They are terrible fellows; and ugly or not, I have no doubt that even your Majesty would not find them so ill-favoured were they seated in the halls of Olympus.'

   'There is something in that,' replied Proserpine. 'I almost wish I were once more in Tartarus.'

   The Titan Porphyrion in the meantime had fastened a chain-cable to the vessel, which he placed over his shoulder, and turning his back to the crew, then wading through the waters, he dragged on the vessel in its course. The cavern widened, the waters spread. To the joy of Proserpine, apparently, she once more beheld the moon and stars.

   'Bright crescent of Diana!' exclaimed the enraptured Queen, 'and ye too, sweet stars, that I have so often watched on the Sicilian plains; do I, then, indeed again behold you? or is it only some exquisite vision that entrances my being? for, indeed, I do not feel the freshness of that breeze that was wont to renovate my languid frame; nor does the odorous scent of flowers wafted from the shores delight my jaded senses. What is it? Is it life or death; earth, indeed, or Hell?'

   ''Tis nothing,' said Tiresias, 'but a great toy. You must know that Saturn—until at length, wearied by his ruinous experiments, the gods expelled him his empire—was a great dabbler in systems. He was always for making moons brighter than Diana, and lighting the stars by gas; but his systems never worked. The tides rebelled against their mistress, and the stars went out with a horrible stench. This is one of his creations, the most ingenious, though a failure. Jove made it a present to Pluto, who is quite proud of having a sun and stars of his own, and reckons it among the choice treasures of his kingdoms.'

   'Poor Saturn! I pity him; he meant well.' 'Very true. He is the paviour of the high-street of Hades. But we cannot afford kings, and especially Gods, to be philosophers. The certainty of misrule is better than the chance of good government; uncertainty makes people restless.'

   'I feel very restless myself; I 

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