cases, I asked no questions that might betray an alarming ignorance. Even should I find no opportunity of seeking enlightenment from Utis, the explanation would present itself in due time.
In the evening, after dinner, a small piece of furniture was rolled forward on casters from the corner where I had frequently noticed it, and supposed to be some kind of sewing-machine. A knob being pressed by Ialma, a small electric light within lighted up a sort of niche, in which was seen one of the portraits taken in the morning. It was, however, increased in size, had its coloring fully developed, and showed a peculiar stereoscopic effect for which I could not account.
Ialma pressed another knob, and the picture seemed endowed with life and voice. I—for it was indeed myself, reduced to one-twelfth of my natural dimensions—I seemed to turn from regarding some object to my left, toward which I had been pointing. The movement of eyes, lips, of every feature, was in exact unison. I recognized what was seemingly uttered by my miniature double, as an inquiry put by me in the morning. The whole, action and speech, occupied, perhaps, thirty seconds, then could be repeated, with or without the voice, as often as desired.
The voice was due, of course, to a concealed phonograph, which, as well as the fact that I was focussed in the camera, had purposely been kept out of sight, so as not to interfere with that naturalness of expression otherwise so difficult to obtain. An ingenious piece of mechanism caused the series of pictures to pass rapidly before the niche, at such a rate as to cause the visual impressions
