After leaving TIPPOO-TIP, he continued his journey through the Colonies. Now he was taking tiffin in Calcutta, and a few minutes later found everyone asleep at Montreal. Christmas seemed to him to be being kept in Melbourne in the most sultry weather, and New Year's Day in Cape Colony was observed as a Midsummer festival. He had a general impression of constant change and constant improvement. The spirit of the mighty English Race seemed to be falling upon the world like a ray of glorious sunshine. This ray of light was continually increasing and beating back the darkness. And, as the Sage travelled through the air, he found everywhere content. It mattered not who the natives might be, they had but one flag, the Union Jack, one sovereign, the Empress-Queen VICTORIA! "Rule BRITANNIA!" cried _Mr. Punch_, enthusiastically. "But for all that, I wish I could have a few minutes to myself." In a moment, he found himself seated amidst the eternal snows of the North Pole. "Well, this is an ice place!" shivered the Sage. There was a roar of mighty laughter from the Aurora Borealis. It was the first time that the ancient jest had been uttered in those latitudes. The Sage blushed at his adoption of the venerable "JOE MILLER," and wished himself back in Europe--in civilisation. He found himself in Venice. Steam gondolas were travelling along the Grand Canal, and Cockneys were cutting their names on the sacred stones of the Church of St. Mark. "It is becoming very English," murmured the Sage. "I suppose the next move will be to organise pigeon-shooting matches in front of the Café Florian, after turning the Doge's Palace into an illuminated Palace of Varieties." _Mr. Punch_ was disgusted, and began to think longingly of home. "I have made a pretty fair round of the world, but I suppose I ought to do a little more in Europe--after all, it has the first claim upon my consideration. Let me consider--I think I should like to see a Greek robber in Athens." [Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S RETURN.] In a moment the Sage found himself in an Athenian hotel, with the proprietor bowing obsequiously before him. "Not very classical," he murmured. "I wonder what it was like in the days when the dead languages were alive, if not kicking. How I should like to see Athens in the time of HELEN the fairest of the fair in everything--save in her conduct to MENELAUS!" Before he had time for further thought, he found himself in the far past, and thus had an opportunity of comparing the old with the new. "Very pretty, but, on my word, comfort was a secondary consideration. But I have neglected Spain. I wish to see the loveliest view in good old WELLINGTON'S Peninsula."