…crash, and engine and coaches vanished from sight, over the side of a precipice. The next moment everything changed, and I found myself racing into the railway station to get my ticket. The place was absolutely deserted, not a porter nor a passenger anywhere, and the train all ready to go. The office was shut, as is always the case when we are in a desperate hurry in Phantomania, but, being determined to make the clerk hear, I commenced a vigorous cannonade with my fist on the pigeon-hole door. Presently the latter flew open, and out popped a bald, white head, with such evil, lurid eyes and sinister smile that, shocked beyond measure, I staggered back. As I did so, I came into conclusion with a porter, who, without asking my permission, unceremoniously shoved me into a train, and, before I could recover my breath, we were off. The compartment,…

…archers, drums, trumpets, spears, silver and gilded maces, troupe after troupe of merry-eyed dancing girls, followed by a hundred or so of the same queer-looking creatures I saw at the windows, carrying triangles in one hand and scales in the other; and last — last of all — mounted on a gigantic white horse, the tall and gaunt figure of Death. He wore nothing save two long, green feathers which waved to and fro, in the most ludicrous fashion, as he bowed his fleshless head, first on one side and then on the other, in gracious acknowledgment of the salutes of the people. And what a reception he had! A reception in which everyone joined, young and old, rich and poor, from those on the housetops, and balconies , and in doorways, and windows, even to those in the procession itself! One and all shouted and cheered, clapped, stamped, and…