CHAPTER IV.
"My faith," said Lord JOHN, "I am getting tired of this. Shall we
never reach the Sun?"
"Courage, my friend," was the well-known reply of the brave little
Doctor. "We deviated from our course one hair's-breadth on the twelfth
day. This is the fortieth day, and by the formula for the precession
of the equinoxes, squared by the parallelogram of an ellipsoidal
bath-bun fresh from the glass cylinder of a refreshment bar, we find
that we are now travelling in a perpetual circle at a distance of one
billion marine gasmeters from the Sun. I have now accounted for the
milk in the cocoa-nut."
"But not," said the Philosopher, as he popped up through a concealed
trap-door, "for the hair outside. That remains for another volume."
With that, he rang a gong. The iceberg splintered into a thousand
pieces. The voyagers were each hurled violently down into their
respective countries, where a savage public was waiting to devour
them.
* * * * *
TOLSTOI ON TOBACCO.
[Count TOLSTOI has been declaiming against Tobacco in
_The Contemporary Review_, and this in no way exaggerates
his views.]
TOLSTOI fuming, in a pet,
Raves against the cigarette;
Says it's bad at any time,
Leads to every kind of crime;
And the man who smokes, quoth he,
Is as wicked as can be.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25