as much of it as possible into what
they call _smithereens_, and try to get justice from the smithereens. It
is a new scheme they have hit upon, a kind of scientific experiment.
The theory appears to be, that justice is the product of Nihilism
plus public buildings blown up by dynamite, and that the more public
buildings they blow up the more justice they will obtain. I hear that
they have also started a company for supplying statesmen, and all public
orators except Home Rulers, with nitro-glycerine jujubes to improve the
voice. Nitro-glycerine is a kind of condensed dynamite. A City sparrow
told me--but perhaps it was only his fun--that they were borrowing the
money from the Government, under the pretext of applying it to a fund
for presenting three-and-sixpenny copies of Jevons' "Logic" to Members
of Parliament who can't afford to buy the book for themselves. It is
reported, also, that if the Nihilists can't obtain justice enough by
any less extensive measures, they will lower a great many kegs of
nitro-glycerine to the molten nucleus of the globe, and then--'

'Then?' said Queen Mab, much excited.

'Then the globe will explode, and all the inhabitants, even the
dynamiters themselves; but justice will remain; according to the theory,
that is. But it is rather an expensive experiment.'

'How dreadful!' said the fairy. 'Do you think I had better not go to
London?'

'I think you might,' replied the Owl thoughtfully. 'There would be
a little risk certainly; but you could fly high, and remember that
dynamite strikes downwards. You had better take the sparrow, though, for
I'm afraid I should attract too much attention. Otherwise I should like
to go with you.'

'I will make us both invisible,' said Queen Mab. 'That will be easy.'

'Oh, very well, if you do _that!_' And they started.

'After all,' said the Owl an hour later, 'as we _are_ here, and
invisible, we may as well rest on the dome of St. Paul's. Dynamite
does strike downwards, and I don't see any black bags about,' he added,
looking round suspiciously.

'All right,' said the fairy. 'Now you can tell me all about things,' for
they had been flying too fast to exchange many remarks. 'What is this
building?'

'It is one of St. George's best churches,' said the Owl.

A burst of melancholy music swelled out below them as he spoke, and
Queen Mab started with delight.

'That is like Fairyland,' she said promptly. 'What is it?'

'It is the organ and the choris