ntil it
was prohibited altogether. That is a curious feature of human nature,
that as soon as you forbid a thing it becomes irresistibly alluring.
You remember the story of Mrs. Bluebeard.

"It occurred to me, after booze had gone, that it was a sad thing that
I, Bishop Chuff's daughter, who was devoting my life to the prohibition
cause, should have not the slightest knowledge of the nature of this
hideous evil we had been pursuing. I brooded over this a great deal,
and fell into a melancholy state. The thought came to me, there must be
some virtue in drink, or why would so many people have stubbornly
contested its abolition? It would be too long a story to tell you all
the details, but it was at that time that I first became aware of my
psychic gift."

"Your psychic gift?" queried Bleak, wondering.

She turned her bright beer-brown eyes upon him gravely. "Yes," she
said, "I am an alcoholic medium. It is the latest and most superior
form of spiritualism. By gazing upon crystal--particularly upon an
empty tumbler--I am able to throw myself into a trance in which I can
communicate with departed spirits. A good drink does not die, you know:
its soul hovers radiantly on the twentieth plane, and through the
occult power of a medium those who loved it in life can get in touch
with it once more. Through these trances of mine I have been privileged
to put many bereaved ones in communication with their dear departed
spirits. To hear the table-rappings and the shouts of ecstasy you would
perceive that a great deal of the anguish of separation is assuaged."

"Do you often have these trances?" said Bleak, with a certain
wistfulness.

"They are not hard to induce," she said. "All that is necessary for a
seance is a round table, preferably of some highly polished brown wood,
a brass rail for the worshipers to put their feet on, and an empty
tumbler to concentrate the power of yearning. If those present all wish
hard enough there is sure to be a successful reunion with the Beyond."

"But surely," said the fascinated editor, "surely not any--well, actual
MATERIALIZATION?"

"Oh, no; but the communion of souls produces quite sufficient results.
You see, so many fine spirits passed over at once, suddenly, on that
First of July, that the twentieth plane is quite thronged with them,
and they are just as eager to come back as their friends could be to
welcome them. One good yearn deserves another, as we say. The only time
when these