“None of your fables for mine,” said Shakespeare, slangily. “You would designate two dogs; I would select two cats; they would call in a fox for the odd. The arbitrators would come to talk it over. I would smile and rub the cats’ fur the right way. You would fill the dogs with porterhouse steak rare, broiled till the air for miles around would be rich with the odor, and served with butter gravy. I would cram the cats with liver and cream. You would turn the fox loose in the chicken yard and give him the run of the goose pasture. Oh, I know how arbitrations are run, whether they be conducted by cats or by capital!” “This is no occasion for petty jealousies,” remonstrated Izaak Walton. “I would rather cull flowers just now from the banks of a trout stream than train for a prize fight. Hip! hip! hip! for the Hippodrome! Have you forgotten that you are going to exchange Hades for New York, where you can pull the sky over you for cover, use the moon in place of an incandescent light, the four points of the compass for bed posts and a morning shower for an alarm clock? We are going to find rest near the heart of Nature, where bookmakers are unknown and politicians have no higher ambition than to sit on a rail fence and dream of whittling down the salaries of the school teachers when they get a place on the board of education.” “Boss” Tweed smiled for the first time since his election as janitor of the hall of fame. “Noah may have a map of the road to the millennium,” he said, “but he has gotten side-tracked if he thinks New York is one of the stations along that route!” THE MAN WITH THE MEGAPHONE. CHAPTER XII. The Man with the Megaphone. “We’re off,” sang out Noah, using a huge megaphone which could be heard throughout the length of the train. “Perhaps it was not necessary to tell you that we had started, but the megaphone man on all ‘Seeing New York’ trips is expected to begin his lecture with that observation, and as we’re going to the earth, we must do as mortals do. “Due notice of our return will be published in the newspapers, but as our stay in the metropolis is indefinite, our address has been left with the constable, and the maid has been instructed to accept service. “Speaking of maids reminds me that the dear women are rather hotter under their lace collars just now than usual and are saying things quite horrid. You see King Henry the Eighth insisted upon leaving the women at home. To this Cæsar was opposed. “‘Your wife may be above suspicion,’ said Henry, ‘but I’m not so sure about mine. Six women tagging after a man are just about half a dozen too many.’