his father. But hullo, sir, are you aware that you
are wearing my studs and my watch-chain?"

"Donnerwetter!" hiccoughed the other. "If those are not the trousers for
which my tailor is about to sue me, may I never taste beer again."

Now as Von Hartmann, overwhelmed by the many strange things which had
occurred to him that day, passed his hand over his forehead and cast his
eyes downwards, he chanced to catch the reflection of his own face in a
pool which the rain had left upon the road. To his utter astonishment he
perceived that his face was that of a youth, that his dress was that of
a fashionable young student, and that in every way he was the antithesis
of the grave and scholarly figure in which his mind was wont to dwell.
In an instant his active brain ran over the series of events which had
occurred and sprang to the conclusion. He fairly reeled under the blow.

"Himmel!" he cried, "I see it all. Our souls are in the wrong bodies. I
am you and you are I. My theory is proved--but at what an expense! Is
the most scholarly mind in Europe to go about with this frivolous
exterior? Oh the labours of a lifetime are ruined!" and he smote his
breast in his despair.

"I say," remarked the real Von Hartmann from the body of the Professor,
"I quite see the force of your remarks, but don't go knocking my body
about like that. You received it in an excellent condition, but I
perceive that you have wet it and bruised it, and spilled snuff over my
ruffled shirt-front."

"It matters little," the other said moodily. "Such as we are so must we
stay. My theory is triumphantly proved, but the cost is terrible."

"If I thought so," said the spirit of the student, "it would be hard
indeed. What could I do with these stiff old limbs, and how could I woo
Elise and persuade her that I was not her father? No, thank Heaven, in
spite of the beer which has upset me more than ever it could upset my
real self, I can see a way out of it."

"How?" gasped the Professor.

"Why, by repeating the experiment. Liberate our souls once more, and the
chances are that they will find their way back into their respective
bodies."

No drowning man could clutch more eagerly at a straw than did Von
Baumgarten's spirit at this suggestion. In feverish haste he dragged his
own frame to the side of the road and threw it into a mesmeric trance;
he then extracted the crystal ball from the pocket, and managed to bring
himself into the same condition.

Som