CHAPTER I A Pantoum in Prose The Ear of the Long Dragon T is doubtful whether the gift was in- nate. For my own part, I think it came to him suddenly. Indeed, until he was thirty he was a sceptic, and did not be- lieve in miraculous powers. And here, since it is the most convenient place, I must mention that .he was a little man, and had eyes of a hot brown, very erect red hair, a moustache with ends that he twisted up, and freckles. His name was George McWhirter Fotheringay — not the sort of name by any means to lead to any expectation of miracles — and he was clerk at Gomshott's. He was greatly addicted to assertive argument. It was while he was asserting the impossibility of miracles that he had his first intimation of his extraordinary powers. This particular argument was being held in the bar of the Long Dragon, and Toddy Beamish wa3 conducting the opposition by a monotonous but effective "So you say," that drove Mr. Fotheringay to the very limit of his patience. There were present, besides these two, . a very dusty cyclist, landlord Cox, and Miss Maybridge, the perfectly respectable and rather portly barmaid of the Dragon. Miss Maybridge was standing with her back to Mr. Fotheringay, washing glasses; the others were watching him, more or less amused by the present ineffectiveness of the assertive method. Goaded by the Torres Vedras tactics of Mr. Beam- ish, Mr. Fotheringay determined to make an unusual rhetorical effort. "Looky here, Mr. Beamish," said Mr. Fotheringay. "Let us clearly understand what a miracle is. It's something contrariwise to the -course of nature, done by power of will, something what couldn't happen unless specially willed," "So you say," said Mr. Beamish, repulsing him. Discussing Miracles. The Inverted Lamp M R. FOTHERINGAY appealed to the cyclist, who had hitherto a silent auditor, and received his assent — given with a hesi- tating cough and a glance at Mr. Beamish. The landlord would express no opinion, and Mr. Fother- ingay, returning to Mr. Beamish, received the un- expected concession of a qualified assent to his defi- nition of a miracle. "For instance," said Mr. Fotheringay, greatly encouraged. "Here would be a miracle. That lamp in the natural course of TXTHEN you start reading this story by the famous au- thor you beoin to louder >ehy such teeming nonsense ever was committed to paper. You begin to doubt -if it was really written, by H. C. '.Veils, and as you proceed the thought dawns upon you thai he probably wrota it before he was ten years old. This thought gains conviction until the final denouement, when the author fully repeals himself, and you have the sinking feeling that ike joke is on you. This intercstimi story should be read at least twice, in order to get the fullest enjoyment from it, and, incident- ally, although this story was written before the recogni- tion, of the Einstein Theory, it is an excellent illustration of the modern conception of time-space. Personally we consider it a masterpiece and heartily reeoiiiiiieiul it to our readers. stands as it might be here, and says to that lamp, as I might do, collecting all my will— Turn upsy- down without breaking, and go on burning steady, and Hallo!" It was enough to make any one say "Hallo!" The impossible, the incredible, was visible to them all. The lamp hung inverted in the air, burning quietly with its flame pointing down. It was as solid, as in- disputable as ever a lamp was, the prosaic common lamp of the Long Dragon bar. Mr, Fotheringay stood with an extended fore- finger and the knitted brows of one anticipating a catastrophic smash. The cyclist, who was sitting next the lamp, ducked and jumped across the bar. Everybody jumped, more or less. Miss Maybridge turned and screamed. For nearly three seconds the lamp remained still. A faint cry of mental distress came from Mr. Fotheringay. "I can't keep it up," he said, "any longer." He staggered back, and the inverted lamp suddenly flared, fell against the cor- ner of the bar, bounced aside, smashed upon the floor, and went out. It was lucky it had a metal receiver, or the whole place would have been in a blaze. Mr. Cox was the first to speak, and his remark, shorn of needless ex- crescences, was to the effect that Fotheringay was a fool. Fotheringay was beyond disputing even so fundamental a proposition as that ! He was aston- ished beyond measure at the thing that had oc- curred. The subsequent conversation threw abso- lutely no light on the matter so far as Fotheringay was concerned; the general opinion not only followed Mr. Cox very closely but very vehemently. Every one accused Fotheringay of a silly trick, and pre- sented him to himself as a foolish destroyer of com- fort and security. His mind was in a tornado of perplexity, he was himself inclined to agree with them, and he made a remarkably ineffectual oppo- sition to the proposal of his departure. He went home flushed and heated, coat-collar crumpled, eyes smarting, and ears red. He watched each of the ten street lamps nervously as he passed ■■ it. It was only when he Ktfl TffiMBffllBBlB Braaas^ffla found himself alone in his little bedroom in Church Row that he was able to grapple seriously with his memories of the occur- rence, and ask, "What on earth happened?" CHAPTER II The Power o£ the Human Win " E had removed his coat and boots, and was sitting on the bed with his hands in his pockets repeating H' nature, couldn't burn like that upsy-down, could it, s;the text of his defence for the seventeenth time, "I Beamish?" 'Tom say it couldn't," said Beamish, "And you?" said Fotheringay. "You don't mean to say — eh?" "No," said Beamish reluctantly. "No, it couldn't." "Very well," said Mr. Fotheringay. "Then here comes some one, as it might be me, along here, and didn't want the confounded thing to upset," when it occurred to him that at the precise moment he had said the commanding words he had inadvertent- ly willed the thing he said, and that when he had seen the lamp in the air he had felt that it depended on him to maintain it there without being clear how this was to be done. He had not a particularly com-
