hypnotism or mesmerism--"a blanky spirit rappin' fake," they called
it, run by "some blanker" in "the hall;" and when old Mac had seen
to his horses, he thought he might as well drop in for half an hour
and see what was going on. Being a Mac, he was, of course,
theological, scientific, and argumentative. He saw some things which
woke him up, challenged the performer to hypnotize him, was
"operated" on or "fooled with" a bit, had a "numb sorter
light-headed feelin'," and was told by a voice from the back of the
hall that his "leg was being pulled, Mac," and by another buzzin'
far-away kind of "ventrillick" voice that he would make a good
subject, and that, if he only had the will power and knew how (which
he would learn from a book the professor had to sell for five
shillings) he would be able to drive his van without horses or any
thing, save the pole sticking straight out in front. These weren't
the professor's exact words--But, anyway, Mae came to himself with a
sudden jerk, left with a great Scottish snort of disgust and the sound
of heavy boots along the floor; and after a resentful whisky at the
Royal, where they laughed at his scrooging bushy eyebrows, fierce
black eyes and his deadly-in-earnest denunciation of all humbugs and
imposters, he returned to the aforesaid van, let down the flaps,
buttoned the daft and "feekle" world out, and himself in, and then
retired some more and slept, as I have said, rolled in his blankets
and overcoats on a bed of cushions, and chaff-bag.

Harry Chatswood got down from his empty coach, and was helping the
yard boy take out the horses, when his eye fell on the remnant of a
roll of fencing wire standing by the stable wall in the light of the
lantern. Then an idea struck him unexpectedly, and his mind became
luminous. He unhooked the swinglebar, swung it up over his
"leader's" rump (he was driving only three horses that trip), and