“It has been my habit, sir, to study the Education Acts of my country ever since that which was passed at the time of the Great Skirmish; but, with the exception of exercise, I have not as yet been able to find any direct allusion to these matters. Nor is this surprising when you consider that education is popularly supposed to be, not for the acquisition of happiness, but for the good of trade or the promotion of acute self-consciousness through what we know as culture. If by any chance there should arise a President of Education so enlightened as to share my views, it would be impossible for him to mention the fact for fear of being sent to Colney Hatch.” “In that case,” asked the Angel, “you do not believe in the progress of your country?” “Sir,” his dragoman replied earnestly, “you have seen this land for yourself and have heard from me some account of its growth from the days when you were last on earth, shortly before the Great Skirmish; it will not have escaped your eagle eye that this considerable event has had some influence in accelerating the course of its progression; and you will have noticed how, notwithstanding the most strenuous intentions at the close of that tragedy, we have yielded to circumstance and in every direction followed the line of least resistance.” “I have a certain sympathy with that,” said the Angel, with a yawn; “it is so much easier.” “So we have found; and our country has got along, perhaps, as well as one could have expected, considering what it has had to contend with: pressure of debt; primrose paths; pelf; party; patrio-Prussianism; the people; pundits; Puritans; proctors; property; philosophers; the Pontifical; and progress. I will not disguise from you, however, that we are far from perfection; and it may be that on your next visit, thirty-seven years hence, we shall be further. For, however it may be with angels, sir, with men things do not stand still; and, as I have tried to make clear to you, in order to advance in body and spirit, it is necessary to be masters of your environment and discoveries instead of letting them be masters of you. Wealthy again we may be, healthy and happy we are not, as yet.” “I have finished my beer,” said the Angel Æthereal with finality, “and am ready to rise. You have nothing to drink! Let me give you a testimonial instead!” Pulling a quill from his wing, he dipped it in the mustard and wrote: “A Dry Dog--No Good For Trade” on his dragoman’s white hat. “I shall now leave the earth,” he added. “I am pleased to hear it,” said his dragoman, “for I fancy that the longer you stay the more vulgar you will become. I have noticed it growing on you, sir, just as it does on us.” The Angel smiled. “Meet me by sunlight alone,” he said, “under the left-hand lion in Trafalgar Square at this hour of this day, in 1984. Remember me to the waiter, will you? So long!” And, without pausing for a reply, he spread his wings, and soared away.