smerism. He had no notion that he could exercise such power; but
while musing upon the subject he rubbed the baby's eyebrows carelessly
with his fingers and made several passes with his hands upon its
forehead. As Mrs. Fogg began to feel her way up stairs, he was
surprised and pleased to find that the baby had become quiet and had
dropped off into sweet and peaceful slumber. Mrs. Fogg put the sugar
away as her husband placed the child in its crib and covered it up
carefully, and then they went to bed.
[Illustration: MR. FOGG AS A MESMERIST]
They were not disturbed again that night, and in the morning the baby
was still fast asleep. Mrs. Fogg said she guessed the poor little
darling must have gotten a tooth through, which made it feel easier.
Mr. Fogg said, "Maybe it has."
But he had a faint though very dark suspicion that something was
wrong.
After breakfast he went up to the bed-room to see if the baby was
awake. It still remained asleep; and Mr. Fogg, when he had leaned over
and listened to its breathing, shook it roughly three or four times
and cleared his throat in a somewhat boisterous manner. But it did not
wake, and Mr. Fogg went down stairs with a horrible dread upon him,
and assuming his hat prepared to go to the office. Mrs. Fogg called to
him,
"Don't slam the front door and wake the baby!"
And then Mr. Fogg did slam it with extraordinary violence; after which
he walked up the street with gloom in his soul and a wretched feeling
of apprehension that the baby would never waken.
"What on earth would we do if it should stay asleep for years?
S'pose'n it should sleep right straight ahead for half a century, and
grow to be an old man without knowing its pa and ma, and without ever
learning anything or seeing anything!"
The thought maddened him. He remembered Rip Van Winkle; he recalled
the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus; he thought of the afflicted woman whom
he saw once at a menagerie in a trance, in which she had been for
twenty years continuously, excepting when she awoke for a few moments
at long intervals to ask for something to eat. Perhaps when he and
Mrs. Fogg were dead the baby might be rented to a menagerie, and be
carried around the country as a spectacle. The idea haunted him. It
made him miserable. He tried for two or three hours to fix his mind
upon his office-duties, but it was impossible. He determined to
go back to the house to ascertain if the baby had returned to
consciousness. When
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