d Mr. Whitechoker. "I
know no more about Dreamaline now than I did when you began."

"Which is my case exactly," said the Idiot. "It is a vague, shadowy
something as yet. It is only a germ lost in my cerebral wrinkles, but I
hope by a persistent smoothing out of those wrinkles with what I might
call the flat-iron of thought, I may yet lay hold of the microbe, and
with it electrify the world. Once Dreamaline is discovered all other
discoveries become as nothing; all other inventions for the amelioration
of the condition of the civilized will be unnecessary, and even
Progressive Waffles will cease to fascinate."

"Perhaps," said the Bibliomaniac, "if you will give us a hint as to the
nature of your plan in general we may be able to help you in carrying it
out."

"The Doctor might," said the Idiot. "My genial friend who occasionally
imbibes might--even the Poet, with his taste for Welsh rarebits,
might--but from you and Mr. Pedagog and Mr. Whitechoker I fear I should
receive little assistance. Indeed, I am not sure but that Mr.
Whitechoker might disapprove of the plan altogether."

"Any plan which makes life happier and better is sure to meet with my
approval," said Mr. Whitechoker.

"With that encouragement, then," said the Idiot, "I will endeavor to lay
before you my crowning invention. Dreamaline, as its name may suggest,
should be a patent medicine, by taking which man should become oblivious
to care."

"What's the matter with champagne for that?" interrupted the Genial Old
Gentleman who occasionally imbibes.

"Champagne has some good points," said the Idiot. "But there are two
drawbacks--the effects and the price. Both of these drawbacks, so far
from making us oblivious to our cares, add to them. The superiority of
Dreamaline over champagne, or even over beer, which is comparatively
cheap, is that one dose of Dreamaline, costing one cent, will do more
for the patient than one case of champagne or one keg of beer; it is not
intoxicating or ruinous to the purse. Furthermore, it is more potent for
good, since, under its genial influences, man can do that to which he
aspires, or, what is perhaps better yet, merely imagine that he is doing
that to which he aspires, and so avoid the disappointment which I am
told always comes with ambition achieved.

"Take, for instance, the literary man. We know of many cases in which
the literary man has stimulated his imagination by means of drugs, and
while under the influence