"And so," said TIME, as he carefully arranged his forelock before a
mirror in the corridor, in reply to a communication recently made
to him by _Mr. Punch en route_, "and so we're to make a regular
rollicking night of it'? You insist on taking me into every Music
Hall in Seriocomix, hey, you young dog, you! Well, well, Sir, I'm not
so young as I used to be--but I'm as fond of a bit of good honest
wholesome fun as ever I was. So lead on!"
[Illustration]
They were in Seriocomix--a new and brilliant planet recently
discovered by _Mr. Punch_--by the aid of WELLER's patent
double-million gas-magnifying microscope (extra power). This star,
as all astronomers are by this time aware, is a howling waste of
extraordinary density, and occupied entirely by Music Halls, which
TIME, for some inexplicable reason, was desirous of visiting in _Mr.
Punch's_ company.
_Mr. Punch_, though considerably TIME's junior, almost envied his
companion's boyish eagerness for pleasure; he was so evidently
unfamiliar with Music Halls.
"If you are expecting to be vastly amused, Sir," _Mr. Punch_ ventured
to hint, "I am afraid you may be just a trifle disappointed."
"Disappointed?" said TIME; "not a bit of it, Sir; not a bit of it!
Isn't a Music Hall a place of entertainment? You've plenty of them
where _you_ come from, haven't you? They wouldn't be filled night
after night, as I'm given to understand they are, if they didn't
succeed in entertaining, _would_ they, now?"
_Mr.
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