"You be blowed?" they both shouted, and the Sphinx gravely inclined its head. Then, of a sudden, after jumping from one mountain-top to another mountain-top, clinging to a precipice by their eyebrows, and sliding down a glacier and an avalanche, the two travellers came to the source of nothing, or, to use the local name, the source of the Nihil. "When is a door not a door?" they asked, impelled as if by some hidden power. In a moment the most beautiful Joke that ever was known appeared before them. It had the semblance of something they had seen before--lovely beyond compare. A flood of liquid laughter followed, and the Joke bathed in it, dancing about in the merry mixture most joyously. It was a dread and wonderful sight. They felt that but half their task was accomplished--but only half. Had not _He-who-must-be-obeyed_ ordered them to seek out the solution of the Great Conundrum? That Great Conundrum had lived through the ages. It had been known to the Romans and the Greeks, and had died (for a while) with the Dead Languages. It had been buried in the land of the Assyrians, from whence had come a kindred spirit, the precursor of the Hibernian bull. That bull, which was in the changing seasons to cause roars of mighty merriment echoing into the far ages of the Future from the distant dimples of the Past. So, after their first surprise, they welcomed the gladsome Presence. They watched it as it jumped and leaped in the flood of liquid laughter. They were mad with a nameless delight, and danced round and round in a wild delirium of quaint possibilities! The Joke smiled upon them, and seemed to recognise in them the followers of the Great _Jo-Mill-Ar_, or _One-who-has-caused-the-dullest-dogs to-shake-their-heavy-sides-with-tuneless-laughter_. Then the Joke grew in comeliness. The Question was only half of its stature--it required the Answer. They felt that the reply would come with the mighty murmur of merriment that the Writer and the Sketcher had already noticed. At length it was upon them. The Answer came!---- "When it is _an egress_." "Look!--look!--look!" shrieked UNREDD. _The Joke was growing old before their eyes!_ The wit was shrivelling up! The fun was evaporating! Smaller and smaller it grew, until it was nearly gone. "I will not die!" came a cry. "Generations yet unborn shall hear me. Many shall think me good--many shall be amused. Oh--h--h!" and the Joke had fallen flat! They knew its real name, then--it was "_Ded an-Gone, the Jest Departed_." And now it was still! [Illustration: DED'-AN-GONE; OR, JEST DEPARTED. "_In a moment the most beautiful Joke that ever was known appeared before them. It had the semblance of something they had seen before--lovely beyond compare. A flood of liquid laughter followed, and the Joke bathed in it, dancing about in the merry mixture most joyously. It was a dread and wonderful sight._"]