THE TWO ANDROMEDAS _Opposite a Railway Bookstall at a London Terminus._ TIME--_Saturday_, 4.25 P.M. _Drysdale_ (_to his friend_, GALFRID UNDERSHELL, _whom he is "seeing off"_). Twenty minutes to spare; time enough to lay in any quantity of light literature. _Undershell_ (_in a head voice_). I fear the merely ephemeral does not appeal to me. But I should like to make a little experiment. (_To the_ Bookstall Clerk.) A--do you happen to have a copy left of Clarion Blair's _Andromeda_? _Clerk._ Not in stock, sir. Never 'eard of the book, but dare say I could get it for you. Here's a Detective Story we're sellin' like 'ot cakes--_The Man with the Missing Toe_--very cleverly written story, sir. [Illustration: "HERE'S A DETECTIVE STORY WE'RE SELLING LIKE 'OT CAKES."] _Undershell._ I merely wished to know--that was all. (_Turning with resigned disgust to_ DRYSDALE.) Just think of it, my dear fellow. At a bookstall like this one feels the pulse, as it were, of Contemporary Culture; and here my _Andromeda_, which no less an authority than the _Daily Chronicle_ hailed as the uprising of a new and splendid era in English Song-making, a Poetic Renascence, my poor _Andromeda_, is trampled underfoot by--(_choking_)--Men with Missing Toes! What a satire on our so-called Progress! _Drysdale._ That a purblind public should prefer a Shilling Shocker for railway reading when for a modest half-guinea they might obtain a numbered volume of Coming Poetry on hand-made paper! It _does_ seem incredible,--but they do. Well, if they can't read _Andromeda_ on the journey, they can at least peruse a stinger on it in this week's _Saturday_. Seen it? _Undershell._ No. I don't vex my soul by reading criticisms on my work. I am no Keats. They may howl--but they will not kill _me_. By the way, the _Speaker_ had a most enthusiastic notice last week. _Drysdale._ So you saw _that_ then? But you're right not to mind the others. When a fellow's contrived to hang on to the Chariot of Fame, he can't wonder if a few rude and envious beggars call out "Whip behind!" eh? You don't want to get in yet? Suppose we take a turn up to the end of the platform. [_They do._ JAMES SPURRELL, M.R.C.V.S., _enters with his friend_, THOMAS TANRAKE, _of_ HURDELL AND TANRAKE, _Job and Riding Masters, Mayfair_. _Spurrell._ Yes, it's lucky for me old Spavin being laid up like this--gives me a regular little outing, do you see? going down to a swell place like this Wyvern Court, and being put up there for a day or two! I shouldn't wonder if they do you very well in the housekeeper's room. (_To_ Clerk.) Give me a Pink Un and last week's _Dog Fancier's Guide_. _Clerk._ We've returned the unsold copies, sir. Could give you _this_ week's; or there's _The Rabbit and Poultry Breeder's Journal_.