[Here a discussion breaks out between a Sceptic and a Spiritualist, who, with half-a-dozen interested auditors, have been putting their heads together in a corner.
The Sceptic. No,—but keep to the point,—you're shufflin' the question. I want to argue this out on logical grounds. I know as well as you do that, if only I 'ave 'armony and a round table in my family, I can make that table dance the poker—but what I'm puttin' to you is (triumphantly), 'ow does that prove to me as I'm in communication with the Bogie Man? That's what you've got to answer.
The Y.S.. We Soshalists 'ate the Tories as we 'ate sin. Why, young polertician as I ham, &c., &c.
The Spiritualist (an elderly and earnest person). All I can reply to you is, we Spiritualists do not think—we know that these phenomena appear—yes, as surely as I know I am 'olding this stick in my 'and.
The Sceptic (pityingly). There you go again, yer see—that stick ain't the point. I can see the stick. A stick ain't a phenomena—you're confusin' two different things. Now I'm goin' to offer you a fair challenge. You perdooce me a Spirit—not in a back room, with the lights out, but 'ere, in broad daylight, in this Park—you get that Spirit to naturalise itself, or whatever you call it, and I'll believe in 'im. Come, now!
A Bystander. Ah, that's the way to corner 'is sort. 'E knows 'e carn't do it!
The Spiritualist (with a smile of sad superiority). Ridicule ain't argyment.
[The discussion continues.
The Young Socialist. Don't tork to me of Patriotism! What have the likes of you and me got to be patriotic about? I'm a Universalist, I am, and so long as a man rallies round our glorious Red Flag (here he waves a dingy scarlet rag on a stick), it's all one to me whether his own colour is black, yeller, green, brown, or white!