"What, drown a critic!" cried the critics, "never heard of such a
monstrous proceeding in our lives!"

"No, we flatter ourselves it is an original idea," replied the public,
brutally. "You ought to be charmed with it. Out you come!"

So they took the critics out and drowned them, and then passed a short
act, making criticism a capital offense.

After that, the art and literature of the country followed, somewhat,
the methods of the quaint and curious school, but the land,
notwithstanding, was a much more cheerful place to live in, I dreamed.

But I never finished telling you about the dream in which I thought I
left my legs behind me when I went into a certain theater.

I dreamed that the ticket the man gave me for my legs was No. 19, and
I was worried all through the performance for fear No. 61 should get
hold of them, and leave me his instead. Mine are rather a fine pair
of legs, and I am, I confess, a little proud of them--at all events, I
prefer them to anybody else's. Besides, number sixty-one's might be a
skinny pair, and not fit me.

It quite spoiled my evening, fretting about this.

Another extraordinary dream I had was one in which I dreamed that I
was engaged to be married to my Aunt Jane. That was not, however, the
extraordinary part of it; I have often known people to dream things
like that. I knew a man who once dreamed that he was actually married