He rose and bowed, and went to speak a word or two to his other
visitors. Sam came back and took his seat by Maud, and said:

"I think the fun is about over. Less go home."

"Go home yourself, if you want to," was the petulant reply. "I am going
to stay for the inspirational discourse."

"Oh, my!" said Sam. "That's a beautiful word. You don't know how pretty
your mouth looks when you say that." Sam had had his beer, and was
brave and good-natured.

Bott retired once more behind the railing, but took his seat in a chair
outside the curtain, in full view of the audience. He sat for some
minutes motionless, staring at vacancy. He then slowly closed his eyes,
and a convulsive shudder ran through his frame. This was repeated at
rapid intervals, with more or less violence. He next passed his hands
alternately over his forehead, as if he were wiping it, and throwing
some invisible, sticky substance, with a vicious snap, to right and
left. At last, after a final shudder, which stiffened him into the
image of death for a moment, he rose to his feet and, leaning on the
railing, began to intone, in a dismal whine, a speech of which we need
give only the opening words.

"Dear brothers and sisters of the earth-life! On pearly wings of
gossamer-down we float down from our shining speers to bring you
messages of the higher life. Let your earth-soul be lifted to meet our
sperrut-soul; let your earth-heart blend in sweet accordion with our
heaven-heart; that the beautiful and the true in this weary earth-life
may receive the bammy influence of the Eden flowrets, and rise, through