and Ansel Burns, of Ohio, who woke up in Kentucky
in his own store, under the name of Brooks--Brooks' store, you know."
"And Ellis, of Bergen," said the professor, "who vas lost for a year,
ant tiscofered himself in te pairson of a cook in a lumber-gamp in
Minnesota, unter te name of Chamison. Oh, dere are many such! Te
supchectife mind, te operations of vich are normally below te threshold
of gonsciousness, suddenly dakes gontrol. Pouf! you are anodder man!
You haf been Smidt; you are now Chones. As Chones you remember notting
of Smidt. You go on, guided by instinct, ant te preacquired
semi-intellichence of auto-hypnotismus----"
"Oh, papa!" said the tiger-lady, "those are awful words--for a sick
man!"
"Vell," resumed Blatherwick, dropping into what he regarded as the
vernacular, "you go on as Chones, all right all right. Some day,
someveres--in dis case in a sleeping-car--you vake as Smidt again. You
now do not remember Chones or te Chones life. You are all vorked
up--vat you call it--flabbergasted. You come to Madame le Claire. Vat
does she do? She calls te supchectife mind up abofe te threshold of
gonsciousness, ant you are restored to te Chones blane of mentality.
Hypnotismus, hypnotismus: that is vat does it!"
"And shall I stay--Jones?"
"No, no!" said Madame le Claire. "I will restore you. But while you
are--Jones--I shall find out all you want to know about
the--Jones--life, and I will tell you when you become yourself again.
You will learn all about Bellevale, and Brassfield, and----"
"And Elizabeth?" asked Amidon.
Madame le Claire paused.
"Yes," said she, with much less cordiality, "I suppose so, if you want
to know--about Elizabeth."
VI
THE JONES PLANE OF MENTALITY
My lady's eyes
Ensphere the skies,
Abound in lovely mysteries:
Behind their bars
Are pent the stars,
Warm Venus' glow, the shafts of Mars.
Once, murky night
Shut in my sight:
One glance revealed the source of light!
Now, to be wise
Or gay, I rise,
By gazing in my lady's eyes!
--_Song from The Oculist_.
The process of bringing the "Jones plane of mentality" uppermost in Mr.
Amidon would not have been regarded by the masculine reader of the
unregenerate sort (though to such far be it from me to appeal!) as an
operation at all painful. But Mr. Amidon, I must declare, was not of
the unregenerate sort.
"Now," said Madame le Claire, "sit down in
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