sions to Gods and kings.'

'Of course; I quite agree with him. I remember we had a confounded poet
at Larissa who proved my family lived before the deluge, and asked me
for a pension. I refused him, and then he wrote an epigram asserting
that I sprang from the veritable stones thrown by Deucalion and Pyrrha
at the re-peopling of the earth, and retained all the properties of my
ancestors.'

'Ha, ha! Hark! there's a thunderbolt! I must run to Jove.'

'And I will look in on the musicians. This way, I think?'

'Up the ruby staircase, turn to your right, down the amethyst gallery.
Farewell!'

'Good-bye; a lively lad that!'

The King of Thessaly entered the Hall of Music with its golden walls
and crystal dome. The Queen of Heaven was reclining in an easy chair,
cutting out peacocks in small sheets of note paper. Minerva was making
a pencil observation on a manuscript copy of the song: Apollo listened
with deference to her laudatory criticisms. Another divine dame,
standing by the side of Euterpe, who was seated by the harp, looked
up as Ixion entered. The wild liquid glance of her soft but radiant
countenance denoted the famed Goddess of Beauty.

Juno just acknowledged the entrance of Ixion by a slight and haughty
inclination of the head, and then resumed her employment. Minerva asked
him his opinion of her amendment, of which he greatly approved. Apollo
greeted him with a melancholy smile, and congratulated him on being
mortal. Venus complimented him on his visit to Olympus, and expressed
the pleasure that she experienced in making his acquaintance.

'What do you think of Heaven?' inquired Venus, in a soft still voice,
and with a smile like summer lightning.

'I never found it so enchanting as at this moment,' replied Ixion.

'A little dull? For myself, I pass my time chiefly at Cnidos: you must
come and visit me there. 'Tis the most charming place in the world. 'Tis
said, you know, that our onions are like other people's roses. We will
take care of you, if your wife come.'

'No fear of that. She always remains at home and piques herself on
her domestic virtues, which means pickling, and quarrelling with her
husband.'

'Ah! I see you are a droll. Very good indeed. Well, for my part, I like
a watering-place existence. Cnidos, Paphos, Cythera; you will usually
find me at one of these places. I like the easy distraction of a career
without any visible result. At these fascinating spots your gloomy race,
to whom,