that purpose I will ask you all to stand up, placing one foot on
the rung of a chair. Kindly imagine yourselves standing with one
foot on a brass rail. You will then summon to mind, with all
possible accuracy and vividness, the scenes of some bar-room which
was once dear to you. I will also ask you to concentrate your
mental faculties upon some beverage which was once your favorite.
Please rehearse in imagination the entire ritual which was once so
familiar, from the inquiring look of the bartender down to the
final clang of the cash-register. A visualization of the old free
lunch counter is also advisable. All these details will assist the
medium to trance herself."

Bleak in the meantime had carried a small table on the platform,
and placed an empty glass upon it. Miss Chuff sat down at this
table, and gazed intently at the glass. Quimbleton produced a
white apron from somewhere, and tied it round his burly form. With
Bleak playing the role of customer he then went through a
pantomime of serving imaginary drinks. His representation of the
now vanished type of the bartender was so admirably realistic that
it brought tears to the eyes of more than one in the gathering.
The editor, with appropriate countenance and gesture, dramatized
the motions of ordering, drinking, and paying for his invisible
refreshment. His pantomime was also accurate and satisfying,
evidently based upon seasoned experience. The argument as to who
should pay, the gesture conveying the generous sentiment "This
one's on me," the spinning of a coin on the bar, the raising of
the elbow, the final toss that dispatched the fluid--all these
were done to the life. The audience followed suit with a will. A
whispering rustle ran through the dingy hall as each man murmured
his favorite catchwords. "Give it a name," "Set 'em up again,"