“I seem,” he said slowly, in a deep, solemn voice, “to see a dim shape of a young man hovering here. I get the name of Claude--no, no, it is Clyde. Clyde would tell you,” his voice sank lower and quavered effectively--“Clyde says to tell you that he is very happy over there--he says you must not worry about a certain matter that is now worrying you for it will all turn out for the best--and you will be happy. And now Clyde seems to be fading away. Clyde is gone!” We didn't clap our hands at that--it would have been too much like clapping hands at a funeral--because we knew it must be Clyde Harrison, who had got drowned not two months before trying to save a little girl that fell overboard off the wharfboat. Just a day or two before there had been a piece in the paper telling about the public fund that was being raised to put a monument over Clyde's grave. So we couldn't applaud that, wonderful as it was, and we shivered in a fearsome, wholly delightful anticipation and sat back and waited for more spirits to come. But seemingly there weren't any more spirits about just then, and after a little Daniel the Mystic returned to the stage and announced that we would now have the crowning achievement of the evening's entertainment--a scientific exhibition of the new and awe-inspiring art of mesmerism in all its various branches. “For this,” he stated impressively, “I desire the aid of volunteers from the audience, promising them that I will do them no harm, but on the contrary will do them much good. I want fellow townspeople of yours for this--gentlemen in whom you all have confidence and respect. I insist only upon one thing--that they shall be one and all total strangers to me.” He advanced to the tin trough of the flickering gas footlights and smiled out over it at us. “Who among you will come forward now? Come!” Before any one else could move, two young fellows got up from seats in different parts of the hall and went up the little runway. We had never seen either of them before, which seemed a strange thing, for we boys kept a sharp eye upon those who came and went. They were both of them tall and terribly thin, with lank hair and listless eyes, and they moved as though their hip joints were rusty and hurt them. But I have seen the likes of them often since then--lying in a trance in a show window, with the covers puckered close up under the drawn face. I have peered down a wooden chute to see such a one slumbering in his coffin underground for a twenty-four or forty-eight-hour test. But these were the first of the tribe our town had encountered.