Agal looked through the window, and was amazed at what he saw. ‘The dust of seven times seven kingdoms has been about my feet,’ he cried, ‘yet I never saw such beauty before. Strange, that I know the sight, yet I have never seen it before. It must have come in dreams!’ ‘Ah!--It is a gift from the great god,’ said the emperor complacently; ‘it is the view that always lies just over the hill.’ THE ROOM OF LOST SOULS One day, the Newspaper King, inspecting his office premises, came upon a little door in an upper part of the building. Turning to his private secretary, who was at his elbow, he said: ‘I don’t remember seeing this little door before. What is the room used for?’ ‘Well, sir, it is only a lumber room,’ replied the secretary, ‘and it is used now for souls.’ ‘For souls?’--The great man was surprised. ‘Yes, for souls. We use it for storing the souls that you have bought from time to time. Those of the staff, you know, sir, and others,’ the secretary answered, adding apologetically: ‘I know, because I peeped in the other day, and saw my own. It is in the top right hand corner.’ ‘Ah--um!’ The Newspaper King mused for a moment, then, with one of those flashes of inspiration which have made his name famous: ‘Could make something out of it for the dull season. Tell Daly to do a special. Call it “Queerest Room in London”--or similar title. Get comments from Bishops--two will do.’ And he passed on, outlining to the secretary as he went, the rules for the new £10,000 competition for Piebald Rabbits. THE CYNICISM OF ABSOLUTE MONARCHIES The King was dying. ‘Go at once and bring the Court Historians,’ he cried; ‘the recital of our many wonderful virtues and deeds will charm our last remaining hours.’ The Historians came and read aloud the glorious history of his reign, but, after a little while, the King waved them aside. ‘You bore us,’ he said. ‘Let us have music,’ the King commanded, and the most skilled musicians in the kingdom came and played before him. But the music was so passionately sorrowful, joyous, heart-stirring, that the King wept. ‘Go away,’ he cried, ‘we would make Death easy, but your music is the enemy of Death!’ Then the Monarch ordered all the members of the Royal Family to come to his bedside, that he might spend his last hours in loving discourse with his kindred. But when they came, they wept so bitterly, that the King’s heart was turned to water within him, and he commanded them to depart. The King was fretful. ‘How many different religions are there in the kingdom?’ he enquired of the chamberlain. ‘Sire, there are six great religions, and one hundred and seventy-two different sects,’ replied that worthy. The King mused for a moment, then said: ‘Bring the Chief Priests of the six great religions!’ The Chief Priests came, and assembled near the royal bed, looking very wise.