I have a friend who is a well-known ecclesiastic glass-painter, and who, as a relaxation, delights in gardening; consequently he lives just out of London, so as to be enabled to carry out his hobby for horticultural pursuits. To work in his London studio during four days of the week, and to reserve Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for his country life is his plan, by adopting which he is neither a countryman nor a town-dweller, but something of both: he is pleased to call himself an “Urberusticite.” Recently, when near the metropolis, I trundled my van down the North Road to his snug little villa, and spent a few days with him. I promised if he would help me in _my_ hobby, by one evening giving himself up to me as a victim, that I would help him during the day with his garden. And I _did_ help him, till every bone in my body ached with the unusual exertion of digging, and wheeling gravel in a great barrow. He gave me the hardest work he could possibly find, observing, as he saw the perspiration streaming down my face, that “you will feel quite another man to-morrow.” And so I did, for I was so stiff next morning that I could scarcely raise my hands to my head, to comb my tawny locks. After the toil of the day I was quite prepared for dinner that evening, but when the meal had been eaten with keen appetite--for gardening certainly does create havoc among the dishes--I prepared for my revenge. My friend was quite prepared to give me an opportunity of hypnotizing him, _if I could_; but he laughed at the absurdity of the idea, believing it, as he said, all moonshine, and asserting that he could, by exerting his will against mine, prevent my passes having any power over him. I commenced operations upon him, and to my very great surprise signally failed. All I could do was to produce a drowsy feeling in him, and at length I gave it up for the evening, conjecturing that the manual labour which I had undergone during the day had tired and weakened my hypnotic powers. My friend was delighted at the failure, and laughed very heartily at my discomfiture; declaring that the hypnotic power I exercised was only efficacious in the case of young people and old women, who had no power of brain to withstand my passes, but simply gave themselves up to my wishes or will, like so many automata. He was good enough, however, to give me another trial next evening, and that I might not be tired he sent me to the river, at a short distance from the house, to fish and--get back my “vanished will.” I was very much piqued, but dare not show it, for my friend is a very demon at sarcasm; so with rod and line I wandered off, and spent a quiet day, reserving all my brain energies for the coming mental fray in the evening.