had sent as a present to him,) and upon its corners
were written _misery_, _wailing_, and _woe_. Above his head were
thousands of representations of battles on sea and land, towns burning,
the earth opening, and the great water of the deluge; and beneath his
feet nothing was to be seen but the crowns and sceptres of the kings whom
he had overcome from the beginning. On his right hand Fate was sitting,
seemingly engaged in reading, with a murky look, a huge volume which was
before him; and on his left was an old man called _Time_, licking
innumerable threads of gold, and silver, and copper, and very many of
iron. Some few of the threads were growing better towards their end, and
thousands growing worse. Along the threads were hours, days, and years;
and Fate, according as his volume directed him, was continually breaking
the threads of life, and opening the doors of the boundary wall, betwixt
the two worlds.

We had not looked around us long, before we heard four fiddlers, newly
dead, summoned to the bar. "How comes it," said the king of Terrors,
"that loving merriment as ye do, ye kept not on the other side of the
gulf, for there has never been any merriment on this side." "We have
never done," said one of the musicians, "harm to any body, but have
rendered people joyous, and have taken quietly what they gave us for our
pains." Said Death, "did you never keep any one from his work, and cause
him to lose his time; or did you never keep people from church? ha!" "O
no!" said another, "perhaps now and then on a Sunday, after service, we
may have kept some in the public house till the next morning, or during
summer tide, may have kept them dancing in the ring on the green all
night; for sure enough, we were more liked, and more lucky in obtaining a
congregation than the parson." "Away, away with these fellows to the
country of Despair!" said the terrific king, "bind the four back to back
and cast them to their customers, to dance bare-footed on floors of
glowing heat, and to amble to all eternity without either praise or
music."

The next that came to the bar was a certain king, who had lived very near
to Rome. "Hold up your hand, prisoner," said one of the officers. "I
hope," said he, "that you have some better manners and favour to show to
a king." "Sirrah," said Death, "why did you not keep on the other side
of the gulf where all are kings? On this side there is none but myself,
and another down below, and