I think you know the lady to
whom I refer."
Mr. Hamar had again hit the mark.
"Only too well!" came the indignant and spontaneous reply.
Mr. Hamar then turned to a man in the fifth row. "Hulloa!" he
exclaimed. "What have we here--an Irish terrier answering to the name
of 'Peg.' It is standing upright with its two front paws resting on
your knees. It is looking up into your face, and its mouth is open as
if anticipating a lump of sugar. From the marks on its body I should
say it has been killed by being run over?"
Again Mr. Hamar was correct. "What you say is absolutely true," the
gentleman replied; "I had a dog named Peg. I was greatly attached to
it, and it was run over in Piccadilly by a motor cyclist. I hate the
very sight of a motor bicycle."
After a brief interval of awestruck silence a voice from the gallery
called out--
"You are in league with him!"
Then the man in the stalls stood up, and essayed to speak; but his
voice was drowned in a perfect tornado of applause. He had no need--he
was instantly recognized--he was J---- B----. With a few more examples
of clairvoyance Mr. Hamar continued to entertain his audience for half
an hour or so, by the end of which time, we have no hesitation in
saying that every one was convinced that he actually saw what, he
said, he saw.
The second part of the programme was entirely in the hands of Mr.
Curtis, who now came forward with a bow. "Ladies and gentlemen," he
said; "you all know that man is complex--that he is composed of mind
and matter, the material and immaterial.
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