For some time after the organization of the Pleasure Tours, the Enchanted Type-Writer appeared to be deserted. Night after night I watched over it with great care lest I should lose any item of interest that might come to me from below, but, much to my sorrow, things in Hades appeared to be dull--so dull that the machine was not called into requisition at all. I little guessed what important matters were transpiring in that wonderful country. Had I done so, I doubt I should have waited so patiently, although my only method of getting there was suicide, for which diversion I have very little liking. On the twenty-fourth night of waiting, however, the welcome sound of the bell dragged me forth from my comfortable couch, whither, expecting nothing, I had retired early. “Glad to hear your pleasant tinkle again,” I said. “I've missed you.” “I'm glad to get back,” returned Boswell, for it was he who was manipulating the keys. “I've been so infernally busy, however, over the court news, that I haven't had a minute to spare.” “Court news, eh?” I said. “You are going to open up a society column, are you?” “Not I,” he replied. “It's the other kind of a court. We've been having some pretty hot litigation down in Hades since I was here last. The city of Cimmeria has been suing the State of Hades for ten years back dog-taxes.” “For what?” I cried. “Unpaid dog-taxes for ten years,” Boswell explained. “We have just as much government below in our cities as you have, and I will say for Hades that our cities are better run than yours.” “I suppose that is due to the fact that when a man gets to Hades he immediately becomes a reformer,” I suggested, with a wink at the machine, which somehow or other did not seem to appreciate the joke. “Possibly,” observed Boswell. “Whatever the reason, however, the fact remains that Cimmeria is a well-governed city, and, what is more, it isn't afraid to assert its rights even as against old Apollyon himself.” “It's safe enough for a corporation,” said I. “Much safer for a corporation which has no soul, than for an individual who has. You can't torture a city--” “Oh, can't you!” laughed Boswell. “Humph. Apollyon can make it as hot for a city as he can for an individual. It is evident that you never heard of Sodom and Gomorrah--which is surprising to me, since your jokes about Lot's wife being too fresh and getting salted down, would seem to indicate that you had heard something about the punishment those cities underwent.” “You are right, Bozzy,” I said. “I had forgotten. But tell me about the dog-tax. Does the State own a dog?” “Does it?” roared Boswell. “Why, my dear fellow, where were you brought up and educated. Does the State own a dog!”