enough to take up serious work, so Ooma says I may as well proceed along
the line of least resistance.--If you remember Ooma's enthusiasm when
she ran the Board of Missions to Inferior Planets, you can fancy her now
that she has an opportunity to carry out all her theories. Oh, she's
great!

My transmigration was disappointing as an experience. It was nothing
more than going to sleep and dreaming about circles--orange circles,
yellow circles, with a thousand others of graduated shades between, and
so on through the spectrum till you pass absolute green and get a tone
or two toward blue and strike the Earth color-note. Then with me
everything got jumbled together and seemed about to take new shapes, and
I woke up in the most commonplace manner and opened my eyes to find
myself externalized in our Earth Settlement House with Ooma laughing at
me.

"Don't stir!" she cried. "Don't lift a finger till we are sure your
specific gravity is all right." And then she pinched me to see if I was
dense enough, because the atmosphere is heavier or lighter or something
here than with us.

I reminded her that matter everywhere must maintain an absolute
equilibrium with its environment, but she protested.

"That's well enough in theory; you must understand that the Earth is
awfully out of tune at present, and sometimes it requires time to
readjust ourselves to its conditions."

--I did not say so, but I fancy Ooma may have been undergoing
readjustment.--My dear, she has grown as pudgy as a Jupitan, and her