an idiotic way, "how did the old thing work?" And it was in the
consequent hilarity and loud and long applause, perhaps, that the
Professor was relieved from the explanation of this rather astounding
phenomenon of the idealistic workings of a purely practical brain--or,
as my impious friend scoffed the incongruity later, in a particularly
withering allusion, as the "blank-blanked fallacy, don't you know, of
staying the hunger of a howling mob by feeding 'em on Spring poetry!"

The tumult of the audience did not cease even with the retirement of
Sweeney, and cries of "Hedrick! Hedrick!" only subsided with the
Professor's high-keyed announcement that the subject was even then
endeavoring to make himself heard, but could not until utter quiet was
restored, adding the further appeal that the young man had already
been a long time under the mesmeric spell, and ought not be so
detained for an unnecessary period. "See," he concluded, with an
assuring wave of the hand toward the subject, "see; he is about to
address you. Now, quiet!--utter quiet, if you please!"

"Great heavens!" exclaimed my friend, stiflingly; "Just look at the
boy! Get onto that position for a poet! Even Sweeney has fled from the
sight of him!"

And truly, too, it was a grotesque pose the young man had assumed; not
wholly ridiculous either, since the dwarfed position he had settled
into seemed more a genuine physical condition than an affected one.
The head, back-tilted, and sunk between the shoulders, looked
abnormally large, while the features of the face appeared peculiarly
child-like--especially the eyes--wakeful and wide apart, and very
bright, yet very mild and very artless; and the drawn and cramped
outline of the legs and feet, and of the arms and hands, even to the