ents had been the excuse by which he had converted himself. Was he
converted? was it real?

"Yes--I think I am," he replied in the same mechanical monotonous
accent.

I shook myself, drank some sherbet, and kicked off one shoe impatiently.
Was I dreaming? or had I been speaking aloud, really putting the
questions he answered so quickly and appositively? Pshaw! a coincidence.
I called the servant and ordered my hookah to be refilled. Isaacs sat
still, immovable, lost in thought, looking at his toes; an expression,
almost stupid in its vacancy, was on his face, and the smoke curled
slowly up in lazy wreaths from his neglected narghyle.

"You are converted then at last?" I said aloud. No answer followed my
question; I watched him attentively.

"Mr. Isaacs!" still silence, was it possible that he had fallen asleep?
his eyes were open, but I thought he was very pale. His upright
position, however, belied any symptoms of unconsciousness.

"Isaacs! Abdul Hafiz! what is the matter!" He did not move. I rose to my
feet and knelt beside him where he sat rigid, immovable, like a statue.
Kiramat Ali, who had been watching, clapped his hands wildly and cried,
"Wah! wah! Sahib margya!"--"The lord is dead." I motioned him away with
a gesture and he held his peace, cowering in the corner, his eyes fixed
on us. Then I bent low as I knelt and looked under my friend's brows,
into his eyes. It was clear he did not see me, though he was looking
straight at his feet. I felt for his pulse. It was very low, almost
imperceptible, and certainly below forty beats to the minute. I took his
right arm and tried to put it on my shoulder. It was perfectly rigid.
There was no doubt about it--the man was in a cataleptic trance. I felt
for the pulse again; it was lost.

I was no stranger to this curious phenomenon, where the mind is
perfectly awake, but every bodily faculty is lulled to sleep beyond
possible excitation, unless the right means be employed. I went out and
breathed the cool night air, bidding the servants be quiet, as the sahib
was asleep. When sufficiently refreshed I re-entered the room, cast off
my slippers, and stood a moment by my friend, who was as rigid as ever.

Nature, in her bountiful wisdom, has compensated me for a singular
absence of beauty by endowing me with great strength, and with one of
those exceptional constitutions which seem constantly charged with
electricity. Without being what is called a mesmerist, I am posse