I dream in shadow. I see Show Off, who has followed his girl, with one tremendous blow put us two around an archway. The lions are in the room. They mind him not. When did a king mind? They see me not. I see them from reflections on the ice mirror walls. He leans against a column and plays. (He has in his mouth a harmonica, Saucy’s property.) Plaintive at first, then shrill, one note touches a chord in the lions’ ears. They shake their heads. It comes again. They snort. A mother back of them calls to a lost babe; three heroes go to her aid flying. The door is shut. Tableau. The lecture is very good. When it comes to lions I am surprised to see in the archway behind Charley, no less than Show Off astride his young thoroughbred, who, when lions are said to dance and play music in America, this one dances and plays behind the speaker, who looks back wild-eyed. The harmonica in its mouth, Show Off chokes out the strains with his hands. So apt and comical is it, the speaker himself breaks out laughing. Show Off has learned to read Unit writing. He got the paper under the door. Did not get left by a Unit scion. I am sitting by the girl, who says: “I could listen all day about the marvelous people when Aunt Robet takes you home I will go along.” “O say no more, I implore. I feel so lost when I think of home.” “To-morrow,” I see she is going to make me happy again, “I will take you over the city. It is one of many that occur every ten miles. This side the river is our summer home, the other is our winter.” The next morning I take to the tower top and delight myself by discovering another motion still of the chairs. It is a circle whirl which I practice until I feel I am seasoned to any mode of motion sprung on me. Serpenta seeks me out, and asks me sweetly what place we shall visit first. “O, no matter.” “A library?” “Very well.” She connects our chairs securely, as did Robet, and presses them to motion, without saying as did Robet, “look out.” We are moving—how, _how_? Her “look out,” had she said it, would have helped one less than Robet’s. For this is worse—so much more worse. Not so exhilarating, quite the opposite. I am losing my breath in a faint, so utterly unprepared am I, for we are moving straight out into space. I look sideways to see Serpenta calm. I look in front, if to see a track, none there. Nothing above or below to hold, not even a wire. Still we are steady and aim to another tower top that is rapidly nearing. Now we stop on it. I get down and walk around my chair to find its wizard action. No track, did I say? There is a track—good rail track behind. It pops into my head it is after the method devised some years ago for a railroad to lay its track as it went, but must have land to lay it on. This carries and steadies its supplements—bridge-like.