that I, Bishop Chuff's daughter, who was devoting my life to the
prohibition cause, should have not the slightest knowledge of the
nature of this hideous evil we had been pursuing. I brooded over
this a great deal, and fell into a melancholy state. The thought
came to me, there must be some virtue in drink, or why would so
many people have stubbornly contested its abolition? It would be
too long a story to tell you all the details, but it was at that
time that I first became aware of my psychic gift."

"Your psychic gift?" queried Bleak, wondering.

She turned her bright beer-brown eyes upon him gravely. "Yes," she
said, "I am an alcoholic medium. It is the latest and most
superior form of spiritualism. By gazing upon crystal--
particularly upon an empty tumbler--I am able to throw myself
into a trance in which I can communicate with departed spirits. A
good drink does not die, you know: its soul hovers radiantly on
the twentieth plane, and through the occult power of a medium
those who loved it in life can get in touch with it once more.
Through these trances of mine I have been privileged to put many
bereaved ones in communication with their dear departed spirits.
To hear the table-rappings and the shouts of ecstasy you would
perceive that a great deal of the anguish of separation is
assuaged."

"Do you often have these trances?" said Bleak, with a certain
wistfulness.

"They are not hard to induce," she said. "All that is necessary
for a seance is a round table, preferably of some highly polished