mind is imaginative and poetical; mine logical, and fairly stored with science and history. It is necessary to the success of our experiment, that your mind submit entirely to the guidance of mine."
"I consent," was my reply. "Let us begin at once."
Rising without a word from his seat on the opposite side of the fireplace, he turned down the lamp, so as to leave only a subdued light. Then, standing on the rug before me, he began to make the peculiar passes employed by mesmerists,—to whose influence, I may remark in passing, I have always been highly susceptible.
Gradually the objects before me grew indistinct: the multitudinous noises of the busy street below died away to a gentle murmur, like the sound of distant waves. That, too, ceased. I was wrapped in a profound and dreamless sleep.
Suddenly I awoke. My friend was standing in the same position as before, and was regarding me intently, not without some appearance of anxiety. The apartment presented its usual appearance, as I could well see, the lamp being now turned up. Full of disappointment, I supposed the experiment to have failed. For there I was. as wide awake, apparently, as ever I had been, with no sign of anything unusual in my surroundings.
Evidently reading my feelings in my countenance, he said, pointing toward the door,—
"Beyond that slight partition you will find that future society upon which you have so often curiously speculated. It is now in your power to see and judge for yourself."
While speaking he had approached the door. After a
