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"I do not like your Abbé," repeated Mrs. Smith.
in the Bourbonnais, or somewhere, at the regulation pace, drew their but he he did not seem to follow some swords, stood at attention, and did points of scholarship I tried him with nothing. A sergeant followed, on -no doubt attributable to his secluded which the men at a sign from him and religious life. He scarcely comes sheathed their weapons with a clang, up to the mark of the polished and and seizing the prostrate and still scholarly Abbés we read of. Besides, insensible man by the collar, dragged did you notice he never fell into those him up and and set him in an armmild pieties by which clergymen chair, his hands still holding the scarf, always betray themselves?" which, it was now observed, exhaled a strong odor of chloroform. At another sign, one of them went out, and speedily returned with two police acolytes bearing a hand ambulance, into which the Abbé was bundled and marched off, the two men-of-arms, with their swords again bared, following as escort. Meantime Mr. Smith, as hero of the hour, had excitedly related all the circumstances to the sergeant, who listened with no apparent interest, and merely replied, "Ah!" but afterwards added, "Monsieur must go along with me."
The table having been cleared, husband and wife sat before the morsel of fire that glowed in an open grate, more for cheerfulness than warmth, when Smith, laying his watch and chain on the table, went upstairs to change his coat and boots. This did not occupy him long, and he went leisurely down the staircase with his hand on the bannister, his list slippers making no noise. When he was about half way down he thoughtbut so indistinctly that it was scarcely a thought that he saw a figure cross the corridor and enter the dining room. Coming down he found the door ajar, and on going in saw at a glance his wife asleep in a fauteuil with her back to the door, and behind her the crouching figure of the Abbé with a silk scarf in his outstretched hands, creeping up as if to strangle her Like a flash the fist of the trained boxer flew from the shoulder and struck the intruder full on the back of the head. The ecclesiastic went down as if shot. His fall awakened Mrs. Smith, who screamed, but had presence of mind to ring the bell violently, which brought several attendants into the room, among them the master of the hotel, who showed great reluctance to notify the authorities, pleading it would bring great scandal on the church, and might hurt the good name of the Boule d'Or The latter reason was doubtless the one the landlord feared, but a waiter had in the meantime run out and summoned the patrol. Soon two gens d'armes came marching into the room
"What for?" cried Smith hotly, are you going to lock me up?"
Not necessarily" replied the sergeant, "but you must tell your story to the Inspector."
There seemed some reason in this, so the irate Englishman, calming down, called a coach in which he and the sergeant were driven to the office of police, a whitewashed apartment where a man in uniform was leaning back in a high chair before a desk beneath a flaring gaslight, with his eyes closed and the stump of a cigar in his mouth. The sergeant related the circumstances.
"Let us see this truculent abbé" said the Inspector, taking a lighted bull's-eye lantern in his hand and leading the way through a private passage to the darkened hospital ward, whither the patient had been already brought and laid, still unconscious, on a mattress. Throwing the whole glare of the lantern on the death-like face, the policeman twitched off the skull-cap with the fringe of gray hair attached, and gazed long and earnestly.
"Ah!" said he at length, "making for the frontier," then turning to his
companion remarked, "Monsieur has been more successful than the whole police of Paris." To anticipate our story by a few weeks, the sham Abbé was a notorious bankrobber and assassin, who had evaded the hue and cry out after him and was watched for at all the ports and railways. No disguise could have been better adapted for escape than that of a priest. He now became the object of lively interest to the first surgeons in Laon, who vied with each other in efforts for his recovery. After trephining and other surgical care he was at length recruited sufficiently to be put on trial for one of his other easily proved crimes, and was deported for life to Cayenne.
Returning to the office, the Inspector again sat down in his high chair, replaced a half-smoked cigar in his mouth, and reached listlessly for his large brass-bound register, and in a tone that made it clear he felt the whole thing a bore, proceeded to ask a great many questions: the complainant's name, age, occupation, why he was in France, where born, was he known to the police of his own country, his father's and mother's name, with others equally irrelevant, all of which he wrote down with exasperating slowness. Then he reached for one of a pile of printed slips which lay on the desk, and on the corner of which Smith's eye was quick enough to read the printed figures "100 francs." This slip Mr. Inspector filled up with a date, but seeming to think the amount was too small, selected another of 1,000 francs, filled in the date and handed it to his visitor with the remark: "personal bond to appear-sign there." "I will not sign," cried Smith.
"I give my word as an English gentleman to appear on the day of trial," urged our tourist, who was beginning to be alarmed at the turn affairs were taking.
"Monsieur's word is without doubt unimpeachable," said the policeman, with the slightest suspicion of a sneer, "but we do not accept it in preference to bond and surveillance."
Our exasperated Briton dashed his signature across the document and strode out in a white fume of rage.
Calling a calèche, our irate friend requested to be driven to the private address of some smart lawyer, and soon found himself in presence of a young dissolute-looking man in deshabille lying on a sofa reading a yellowcovered novel, with a miniature decanter of absinthe and a glass on a bracket within reach, and the table littered with cigarette stubs. On hearing the story the legal gentleman's interest was great. He particularly cross-examined as to whether the policeman did or did not positively refuse to accept a proffered pledge of honour, and on being assured that such was the case his distress was really pathetic.
"But what!" he exclaimed, in his best jury manner, "dieudedieu! it is an insult to a friendly power, an insult to be wiped out with swords. Ciel! and to a Grande Breton (an English! gentilhomme! rentier!); but thus! it humiliates France!'
Then he gave his client some advice. Smith paid the counsel his fee and, again calling the calèche, was driven to the hotel, where he ordered Mrs, Smith to toss all their belongings into the portmanteaus and be ready to leave in a quarter of an hour. The lady was equal to the occasion, and in not much more than the time specified the trunks were placed in care of a commissionaire to convey to a place of safety till called for. Meantime Smith had drawn a cheque for 1,000 francs, payable to the President of the Republic, which he enclosed-not to the inspector, but to the Minister of
Police, in a letter abusing the French Republic, the Ministry and all their myrmidons, threatening them with the wrath of the British lion, and adding divers other threats which he would have found it impossible to carry out. This he placed in the commissionaire's hands, with orders not to mail it until after twelve hours should have elapsed. Then he paid his hotel bill, and, taking his wife's arm, walked out.
Finding their way to a livery. stable, the address of which had been learned from the calèche driver, the pair ordered a postchaise to convey them anywhere into the country for a few miles. After one or two zig
HOME AGAIN, 40-1. A Thanksgiving Story.
MUDDLED, out-o'-work looking man sat in a pool-room fumbling a scrawly letter, and staring with a look of drunken cunning at the names on the black-board. One of them caught his eye, and then swam before him till the whole board seemed covered with nothing but the name of the one horse, "Home Again," at forty to one. He rushed up to the clerk and placed five dollars on that horse, then sat down to wait and to look over again, in a muddled way, the letter his father had written, urging him to come home for Thanksgiving, and if he could do so, to settle down on the old farm again. "We ain't got much to offer you," the letter ran, "but it won't cost much to come, now the railroad's through to Pineville, and your poor mother's been living on the thought of seeing you the past year, the minister says; so I'm sending you this money; it's all we have, and we hope you'll come."
He had intended to go. Poor old soul, she was bad, no doubt, but would it
do her any good to see the miserable wreck he had become? If he could win now he might still get home; he had not spent all on this last spree, and .. How his head ached in this hot place!-if he hadn't been such a fool as to put up his last cent, he would have got another drink. Watching the board in a kind of stupor, he jumped suddenly to his feet, sober in a moment. "Home Again" had won.
A crowded train was hurrying through one of those rocky forest stretches, common on new roads in Canada. The minds of the passengers were filled with thoughts of home, many miles nearer each hour. every farm-house and village dwelling happy faces and busy preparations gave signs of the approaching Thanksgiving Day.
Quiet, the peace of labour ended and rest well earned hovered about a grey homestead which was set back some distance from the road that wound between snake fences from the newly
painted station at Pineville, two miles away. Inside the house an old woman sat beside the box-stove that stood half in the sitting-room and half in the bed-room. A small fire lent heat, but not cheerfulness, to the room which, with its meagre furnishings, had an expectant air. Her mind travelled back, as it had done every day since, to the time when she stood among the sunflowers at the front door, in the clear freshness of a September morning ten years ago, to watch the old waggon disappear over the hill with her son. As she sat there the tired hands gradually grew still. and the knitting fell unheeded to the floor. A hopeful tear or two stole down her wrinkled cheek. As the minutes were ticked out by the tall clock in the corner, a calmer, holier smile came into her face. In the deepening twilight a red gleam from the stove-damper flickered about the room a moment and was gone. The old cat stretched out her paws to
He saw the flush among the Autumn hills,
He heard the myriad voices of the rills
He knew that Summer, with her smiles and tears, Endured sad exile in a distant land;
That Winter, hoary with eternal years,
Must rule again with stern, relentless hand.
Yet in his heart was hope forever bright,
He knew the flower crowned Spring would come
To overcome the shadows of the night,
Fill woods and meadows with her happy throng
BRADFORD K. DANIELS.
N the past few years increased attention has been given to the study of hypnotism, especially as to the part it can be made to play in effecting cures upon diseased persons. The notion that hypnotism is the exercise of a peculiar power bestowed upon one man to benefit or to harm his fellow-creatures is being undermined, and in its place the idea is gaining ground that under the direction of a hypnotist, or perhaps without his assistance, anyone has the power to hypnotize himself. In view of this increased attention and this change of opinion with regard to hypnotism, a brief reference to its history may not be out of place.
The fact that particular psychical states can be induced in human beings by certain physical processes has long been known among the Oriental peoples, and was utilized by them for religious purposes. By steadily gazing at precious stones, into vessels and crystals, or at a certain point or object, these Eastern people have hypnotized themselves for the purposes of soothsaying, of divination or of producing sleep.
Independently of this there has existed at all times in many quarters the belief that particular individuals could influence their fellows by the exercise of certain powers, eg, healing by the laying on of hands, as practised by the Egyptians and the early French kings. This doctrine of animal magnetism was not, however, clearly defined nor definitely brought to public attention until Mesmer, a Viennese doctor (1734 to 1815), began his studies. He maintained the existence of animal magnetism by means of which persons
could influence each other, and he cured at first by contact. Later, he believed that different objects of wood, glass, iron, etc., were also capable of receiving the magnetism. Many people believed that the imagination might be employed with some curative effect, but very few of Mesmer's contemporaries believed in mesmerism or animal magnetism. He had disciples nevertheless.
During the latter part of the 18th century, animal magnetism was much studied at Bremen, in Germany, and during the first twenty years of this century it was much practised in that country. In 1815 the exercise of it was forbidden in Austria. About this time it flourished in Berlin, being introduced into the hospitals by Wolfart, whom the Russian Government had sent to visit Mesmer at Frauenfeld. Lectures were given on the subject at many of the German universities. 1814-15 the Abbé Faria, who came from India to Paris showed by experiments that no unknown force was necessary for the production of the phenomena; the cause of the sleep, he said, was in the person to be sent to sleep; all was subjective. This is the main principle of modern hypnotism. It has been lost sight of too often, but is again being forced upon the attention of those who are investigating the subject.
From this time we find the belief in animal magnetism being displaced by a belief in suggestion. The former doctrine was soon tabooed by the scientists, although it still had a certain hold on the common people in different parts of Europe. When the French magnetizer, La Fontaine, exhibited magnetic experiments in Manchester, Eng., in 1841, Braid, a doc