“They get precious small change out of me or my System either,” answered the Sun. “I burn them up in billions myself; I light my cigars with ’em. And the Planets--they’ve all got their own atmospheres; and when a shooting-star gets into an atmosphere, it’s done for. You ought to cultivate an atmosphere.” “No time,” said the Comet. “In fact, I must be off as it is. Can’t stop! Can’t stop! Can’t stop!” “Any news in Space?” “Only that the Milky Way has gone sour. It’s to be called the Milky Whey in future!” The Sun laughed, but not heartily. He had heard the Comet make this same joke on many previous occasions. Every thirty-five million of years he was expected to smile at this paltry jest, and his good-nature was breaking down under the strain. “Eclipse me, if I’m not fairly sick of that!” said the Sun. “I really do think he might make a new joke. It wasn’t too funny the first time he said it; now it’s grown simply wearisome and sickening. Next time he comes round I must really make an effort to shame him out of it. There should be lots of other good humour knocking about in a place the size of Space.” Then the tail of the traveller vanished round the corner of one of the signs of the Zodiac, and the Sun resumed his regular occupation, and beamed upon his System as usual. “He has got a warm heart and no pride, for he doesn’t mind what he shines on,” thought the Comet, as he followed his lonely and terrific way at the usual rate of progression. “Family cares are all very well, but they do tie a heavenly body down, and frightfully increase his responsibilities. I should never think it quite good enough myself. No System for me! To remember what a light-hearted chap that Sun was in the sweet old days, before he knew he had a System! Now he’s as crusty as the Great Bear, and his outbursts of temper are horrible to witness. No, my idea is the best; see Space, and cultivate big ideas and avoid all family responsibilities.” So saying, he took off his hat to a Lady Comet, and the two proceeded arm-in-arm for a few hundred thousand miles. He told her about the Earth and the Sun; and, though a Comet without much sense of humour, she laughed without intermission for thirteen centuries afterwards. THE ARCHDEACON AND THE DEINOSAURS The Archdeacon brought a neat roll of sermon paper from his pocket. “I have here a trifle from the Mesozoic Period,” he said, and I interrupted-- “My dear Archdeacon, that was thousands of years before man appeared in the world.” “Many millions,” replied the Archdeacon cheerfully. “My manuscript deals with a period when Mother Nature herself was an infant in arms. As you know, my hobby is palæontology. My paper, examined scientifically, represents some knowledge of this subject taken in connection with that dangerous thing: a late supper. You see I hide nothing; and I have written the matter out here on sermon paper in order that I might do it the greater justice.”