nce from one
place to another. His special project had to do with the city of
Granton, situated, as everybody knows, some fifteen miles inland. He
proposes to transport the city on rails and to change it into a
watering-place. The profit, of course, would be enormous. Mr. Smith,
captivated by the scheme, bought a half-interest in it.

"As you are aware, sir," began applicant No. 3, "by the aid of our solar
and terrestrial accumulators and transformers, we are able to make all
the seasons the same. I propose to do something better still. Transform
into heat a portion of the surplus energy at our disposal; send this
heat to the poles; then the polar regions, relieved of their snow-cap,
will become a vast territory available for man's use. What think you of
the scheme?"

"Leave your plans with me, and come back in a week. I will have them
examined in the meantime."

Finally, the fourth announced the early solution of a weighty scientific
problem. Every one will remember the bold experiment made a hundred
years ago by Dr. Nathaniel Faithburn. The doctor, being a firm believer
in human hibernation--in other words, in the possibility of our
suspending our vital functions and of calling them into action again
after a time--resolved to subject the theory to a practical test. To
this end, having first made his last will and pointed out the proper
method of awakening him; having also directed that his sleep was to
continue a hundred years to a day from the date of his apparent death,
he unhesitatingly put the theory to the proof in his own person.

Reduced to the condition of a mummy, Dr. Faithburn was coffined and laid
in a tomb. Time went on. September 25th, 2889, being the day set for his
resurrection, it was proposed to Mr. Smith that he should permit the
second part of the experiment to be performed at his residence this
evening.

"Agreed. Be here at ten o'clock," answered Mr. Smith; and with that the
day's audience was closed.

Left to himself, feeling tired, he lay down on an extension chair. Then,
touching a knob, he established communication with the Central Concert
Hall, whence our greatest _maestros_ send out to subscribers their
delightful successions of accords determined by recondite algebraic
formulas. Night was approaching. Entranced by the harmony, forgetful of
the hour, Smith did not notice that it was growing dark. It was quite
dark when he was aroused by the sound of a door opening. "Who is there?"
he