“Yes sir; and a wonderful science it is.” Before Mr. Vance could continue, Livingston said: “If you folks will be still for about ten minutes, I’ll tell you what happened in my father’s house when I was a very small boy; I can just remember it.”

“If it’s a ghost story, make it strong, Aubrey, so that not a girl will sleep tonight. Won’t the dears look pretty blinking and yawning tomorrow night? We’ll hear ’em, fellows, in the small hours of the morning, ‘Molly, Molly! I’m so frightened. I do believe someone is in my room; may I come in with you, dear?’”

“Charlie, stop your nonsence,” laughed his father, and Adonis obediently subsided.

“My father was Dr. Aubrey Livingston too,” began Aubrey, “and he owned a large plantation of slaves. My father was deeply interested in the science of medicine, and I believe made some valuable discoveries along the line of mesmeric phenomena, for some two or three of his books are referred to even at this advanced stage of discovery, as marvellous in some of their data.

“Among the slaves was a girl who was my mother’s waiting maid, and I have seen my father throw her into a trance-state many times when I was so small that I had no conception of what he was doing.

“Many a time I have known him to call her into the parlor to perform tricks of mind-reading for the amusement of visitors, and many wonderful things were done by her as the record given in his books shows.

“One day there was a great dinner party given at our place, and the elite of the county were bidden. It was about two years before the civil war, and our people were not expecting war; thinking that all unpleasantness must end in their favor, they gave little heed to the ominous rumble of public opinion that was arising at the North, but went on their way in all their pride of position and wealth without a care for the future.

“Child as I was I was impressed by the beauty and wit of the women and the chivalric bearing of the men gathered about my father’s hospitable board on that memorable day. When the feasting and mirth began to lag, someone called for Mira—the maid—and my father sent for her to come and amuse the guests.

“My father made the necessary passes and from a serious, rather sad Negress, very mild with everyone, Mira changed to a gay, noisy, restless woman, full of irony and sharp jesting. In this case this peculiar metamorphosis always occurred. Nothing could be more curious than to see her and hear her. ‘Tell the company what you see, Mira,’ commanded my father.