lume; and certainly
electricity is only too tangible. We have condemned things themselves
instead of blaming the imperfection of our instruments."

"She sleeps," said Minoret, examining the woman, who seemed to him to
belong to an inferior class.

"Her body is for the time being in abeyance," said the Swedenborgian.
"Ignorant persons suppose that condition to be sleep. But she will prove
to you that there is a spiritual universe, and that the mind when
there does not obey the laws of this material universe. I will send her
wherever you wish to go,--a hundred miles from here or to China, as you
will. She will tell you what is happening there."

"Send her to my house in Nemours, Rue des Bourgeois; that will do," said
Minoret.

He took Minoret's hand, which the doctor let him take, and held it for a
moment seeming to collect himself; then with his other hand he took that
of the woman sitting in the arm-chair and placed the hand of the doctor
in it, making a sign to the old sceptic to seat himself beside this
oracle without a tripod. Minoret observed a slight tremor on the
absolutely calm features of the woman when their hands were thus united
by the Swedenborgian, but the action, though marvelous in its effects,
was very simply done.

"Obey him," said the unknown personage, extending his hand above the
head of the sleeping woman, who seemed to imbibe both light and life
from him, "and remember that what you do for him will please me.--You
can now speak to her," he added, addressing Minoret.

"Go to Nemours, to my house, Rue des Bourgeois," said the doctor.

"Give her time; put your hand in hers until she proves to you by what
she tells you that she is where you wish her to be," said Bouvard to his
old friend.

"I see a river," said the woman in a feeble voice, seeming to look
within herself with deep attention, notwithstanding her closed eyelids.
"I see a pretty garden--"

"Why do you enter by the river and the garden?" said Minoret.

"Because they are there."

"Who?"

"The young girl and her nurse, whom you are thinking of."

"What is the garden like?" said Minoret.

"Entering by the steps which go down to the river, there is the right,
a long brick gallery, in which I see books; it ends in a singular
building,--there are wooden bells, and a pattern of red eggs. To the
left, the wall is covered with climbing plants, wild grapes, Virginia
jessamine. In the middle is a sun-dial. There are many plants in po