ernicious snug" (she put it, of course, in more
scientific language), and straightway proceeded to business.

When Miss Chandos invited patients to put themselves in her hands I
thought the room had risen en masse. Everybody wanted to be mesmerized.
I had no chance in my retired position; but she soon got a front row of
likely people, and I sat down once more disappointed and exuding.

She was a tall active young lady was Miss Chandos, and had a mystic crop
of long black curls, which waved about like the locks of a sibyl when
she made a lunge at an innocent looking young man who sat No. 1--and
whom, with the other patients, I shall designate thus numerically. He
seemed to like it immensely, and smiled a fatuous smile as those taper
fingers lighted on his head, while the other hand rested on the frontal
portion of his face, as though Miss Chandos were going to pull his nose.
He was off in a moment, and sat facing the audience in his magnetic
trance, looking like a figure at a waxwork show. Miss Chandos then
passed on to a gentleman, No. 2, who never succumbed during the entire
evening, though she made several onslaughts upon him. Consequently I
dismiss No. 2 as incorrigible forthwith. No. 3 was a lady who only gave
way after a lengthened attack, and did not seem to appreciate the effect
of Miss Chandos' lustrous eyes so much as No. 1 did. He gave signs of
"coming to," but Miss Chandos kept looking round at him and No. 2, while
she was attending to No. 3, and directly she did this No. 1 closed his
eyes, and slept the sleep of innocence again.

Having reduced No. 3 to a comatose condition Miss Chandos reverted to
No. 1, and by attractive passes got him on his legs and made him follow
her up and down the limited space at her disposal. She looked then like
a pretty Vivien manipulating a youthful Merlin; and I was not at all
surprised at the effect of her "woven paces and her waving hands." She
asked him his name, and he told her. It was W----. "No," she said, "it's
Jones. Mary Jones. What's your name?" But the youth was not quite so far
gone as to rebaptize himself with a female cognomen just yet. He stuck
to his W., and Miss Chandos put him into his waxwork position again, and
got No. 3 on her legs at last, but did nothing more with her than make
her walk up and down. Presently No. 3 woke up, and was put to air at the
window.

No. 4 was now selected, in the person of a big burly man; and I could
not help thinking, as she