It worked.  Whether I should have found the same excellent service had I not spoken pleasantly to him I, of course, cannot say, but I have never been so well cared for elsewhere.  The captious reader may ask how anything so essentially worldly as a silver dollar ever crept into Olympus.  I can only say that one of the magic properties of the garment I wore was that whatever I put my hand into my pocket for, I got.  As a travelled American, realizing the potency under similar conditions of that heavy and ugly coin, I instinctively sought for it in my pocket and it was there.  I do not attempt to explain the process of its getting there.  It suffices to say that, as the guest of the gods, my every wish was met with speedy attainment.  I could not help but marvel, too, at the appropriateness of everything.  What better than that the King of the Ethiopians should be head waiter to the gods!

“Things are never dull here, sir,” said Memnon, pocketing my dollar and escorting me to my table.  “We do not often have visitors like yourself, however, and we are very glad to see you.”

I sat down before a magnificent window which seemed to open out upon a universe hitherto undreamed of.

“Do you wish the news, sir?” Memnon asked, respectfully.

“Yes,” said I.  “Ah—­news from home, Memnon,” I added.

“Political or merely family?” said he.

“Family,” said I.

Memnon busied himself about the window and in a moment, gazing through it, I had the pleasure of seeing my two boys eating their supper and challenging each other to mortal combat over a delinquent strawberry resting upon the tablecloth.

“Give me a little politics, Memnon,” said I, as the elder boy thrashed the younger, not getting the strawberry, however, which in a quick moment, between blows, the younger managed to swallow.  “They seem to be about as usual at home.”

And I was immediately made aware of the intentions of the administration at Washington merely by looking through a window.  There were the President and his cabinet and—­some others who assist in making up the mind of the statesman.

“Now a dash of crime,” said I.

“High or low?” asked Memnon, fingering the push-button alongside of the window.

“The highest you’ve got,” said I.

I shall not describe what I saw.  It was not very horrible.  It was rather discouraging.  It dealt wholly with the errors of what is known as Society.  It showed the mistakes of persons for whom I had acquired a feeling of awe.  It showed so much that I summoned Memnon to shut the glass off.  I was really afraid somebody else might see.  And I did not wish to lose my respect for people who were leaders in the highest walks of social life.  Still, a great many things that have happened since in high life have not been wholly surprising to me.  I have furthermore so ordered my own goings and comings since that time that I have no fear of what the Peeping Toms of Olympus may see.  If mankind could only be made to understand that this window of Olympus opens out upon every act of their lives, there might be radical reforms in some quarters where it would do a deal of good, although to the general public there seems to be no need for it.