“The purpose of his parade to-morrow is devastating in its simplicity.  Having learned that wine may be made from gooseberries, he proposes (as a first step) to abolish them altogether.  This is to be the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution.  No gooseberries shall be grown upon the soil of the United States, or imported from abroad.  Raisins too, since it is said that one raisin in a bottle of grape juice can cause it to bubble in illicit fashion, are to be put in the category of deadly weapons.  Any one found carrying a concealed raisin will go before a firing squad.  And Chuff threatens to abolish all vegetables of every kind if necessary.”

Bleak sat in horrified silence.

“There is another aspect of the matter,” said Quimbleton, “that touches your profession very closely.  Bishop Chuff is greatly annoyed at the persistent use of the printing press to issue clandestine vinous recipes.  He solemnly threatens, if this continues, to abolish the printing press.  This is to be the Twentieth Amendment.  No printing press shall be used in the territory of the United States.  Any man found with a printing press concealed about his person shall be sentenced to life imprisonment.  Even the Congressional Record is to be written entirely by hand.”

The editor was unable to speak.  He reached for the decanter, but found it empty.

“Very well then,” said Quimbleton.  “The facts are before you.  I suppose The Evening Balloon has made its customary enterprising preparations to report the big parade?”

“Why, yes,” said Bleak.  “Three photographers and three of our most brilliant reporters have been assigned to cover the event.  One of the stories, dealing with pathetic incidents of the procession, has already been written—­cases of women swooning in the vast throng, and so on.  The Balloon is always first,” he added, by force of habit.

“I want you to discard all your plans for describing the parade,” said Quimbleton.  “I am about to give you the greatest scoop in the history of journalism.  The procession will break up in confusion.  All that will be necessary to say can be said in half a dozen lines, which I will give you now.  I suggest that you print them on your front page in the largest possible type.”

From his pocket he took a sheet of paper, neatly folded, and handed it across the table.

“What on earth do you mean?” asked Bleak.  “How can you know what will happen?”

“The Corporation has spoken,” said his host.  “Let us go indoors, where you can read what I have written.”

In a small handsomely appointed library Bleak opened the paper.  It was a sheet of official stationery and read as follows:—­

    The corporation for the perpetuation of happiness

Cable Address:  Hapcorp

Virgil Quimbleton, Associate Director

1316 Caraway Street

Owing to the intoxication of Bishop Chuff, the projected parade of the Pan-Antis broke up in confusion.  Federal Home for Inebriates at Cana, N.J., reopened after two years’ vacation.