Now, this professor is one of those nondescripts who comes from nowhere in particular. He opens his mouth and gives vent to sound in a steady volume, but says nothing in particular. His speech is all about psychology and its wonders and what he proposes to do. Some ten minutes of this, then he invites up half a dozen young men from the gathering for experiments. Applicants for experiment are seated on chairs on the platform before the professor. The latter looks one of these steadily in the eye for a couple of minutes and then makes a few undulatory motions back and forth before his eyes with his right hand and touches his forehead with his fingers. Already he has the spell, and sits staring into vacancy as if he were about to have an extra large photograph taken. All in turn are “spelled,” and all are a success save one, who is requested to take his seat again among the people. And now the fun commences. One fellow the professor assures is hunting, and he hands him his cane for a gun. A flock of ducks!--down the fellow goes and crawls on hands and knees. He fires, and the recoil of the gun throws him prostrate on the stage. Up he gets and at it he goes again. During the half hour I sat there, I think the fellow bagged as big a bag of ducks as usually falls to the lot of a sportsman nowadays. Another youth sees an excellent opportunity for a swim, and quickly doffs coat, vest, and would doff more if not quickly stopped by the wonderful professor. Prostrate he falls on the platform and goes through all the motions of a genuine swim, with feet drawn up, again extended, and the long drawn stroke of the arms regularly and in natural order repeated--a perfect fac-simile of a swim. The “spelled” No. 3 came next, and fancied that the glass of water which the professor extended to him contained excellent port wine; his lips smacked and his eyes sparkled. But he must propose a toast, which was something about Johnny Jones’ girl, and young Mac cutting Jones out. This local hit brought down the house, and it was fully five minutes before the audience could be got into quiet again. Now Jones and Mac were the other two “spelled” subjects on the platform, and of course a duel had to be fought. The far-seeing professor, smelling such duels from afar, had provided two huge corn-stalks, which he handed to the duellists for swords. Each one feels carefully the keen edge of the lethal weapons, and prepares himself for the fray. Seconds are chosen from the other “spelled” ones on the platform, who for the moment leave their ducks, their swimming and their glasses of port wine to see that the Marquis of Queensberry’s rules are faithfully carried out. “No thrusts below the belt, and on no account any hits below the belt”