Presently, Arshel turned to him and said, ‘Sing us a song.’ The Member of Parliament said with dignity, ‘I cannot sing.’ The three Watchers sighed and looked at him reproachfully. ‘Then dance for us,’ said Zanoah, picking up a little pipe. ‘I cannot dance,’ returned the Member of Parliament sadly. The three Watchers sighed more deeply. ‘Then tell us a tale,’ said the one whose name I can never remember. The Politician pondered for a moment, then began: ‘At the last General Election it was decided that our Party should appeal to the country to support those studied and careful reforms necessary from time to time in an enlightened community like ours. Questions of Tariff, Extension of the Franchise, Disestablishment of the Church, Free Commercial Education for the Masses, were to be the pillars by which our Party should stand or fall. I myself----’ ‘It is too long,’ cried Arshel. ‘It is a poor tale,’ cried Zanoah. ‘It is the worst tale I have ever heard,’ cried the one whose name I can never remember, ‘and you are no company for us.’ So they thrust the Member of Parliament for West Churchling out into the cold night. THE WRONG WORLD One Saturday night, not many years ago, there was a great crowd at the end of Toston Street, Littlebury. ‘Nah then. Nah then. Wot’s all this abart?’ cried a policeman, shouldering his way through the curious throng. In the centre of the crowd was a small cleared space, in which was seated, on the edge of the pavement, a strange being with dark blue hair and greenish-tinted skin. ‘Nah then,’ said the policeman, pulling out his note-book, ‘wot’s all this?’ The strange being, on whom the gift of tongues must have descended, looked up and said: ‘Where am I?’ ‘Come on. Wot’s the game, eh? Who are yer, eh? Wotcher doing ’ere?’ roared the policeman, his surprise making him more truculent than usual. The strange being made no reply, but stared at the policeman, and then looked gravely at the curious, jostling crowd. ‘I know! I know!’ he cried triumphantly, springing to his feet. ‘I’m on--just a minute, I’ll remember--somewhere in the Solar system--I’ve got it--the Earth! That’s it--the Earth! The fools ... giving me the wrong directions. I want Morchas, in the Lunar system--the other side of Pleiades. Fancy striking this place again! I’ve been on the Earth before. I was murdered here for speaking the truth, ten thousand years ago. Bah!’ With that he disappeared, to the great astonishment of all present. THE VALUE OF A NEW POINT OF VIEW Sailing westward from the Island of Fata Morgana, I came upon Pierrot in his little white boat. We were old acquaintances, and I asked him if the gods were still using him kindly, and how things were looking on the Moon, his home. ‘I have been away from home for some time,’ he replied, ‘but am just about to return. Will you come with me?’