ETIDORHPA
THE STRANGE HISTORY OF A MYSTERIOUS BEING AND
The Account of a Remarkable Journey
John Uri Lloyd

Illustrated by J. Augustus Knapp
AS COMMUNICATED IN MANUSCRIPT TO LLEWELLYN
DRURY WHO PROMISED TO PRINT THE SAME,
BUT FINALLY EVADED THE RESPONSIBILITY
WHICH WAS ASSUMED BY
JOHN URI LLOYD

NINTH EDITION
CINCINNATI
THE ROBERT CLARKE COMPANY
I898

Brought to you by The Lycaeum

Additional Commentary:

1. McKenna, T. (1990) Excerpt from "Wasson's Literary Precursors"
out of Archaic Revival

2. Matthew J. Baggott, http://itsa.ucsf.edu/~ddrc/lloyd.html "John
Uri Lloyd's Secret Psychoactives"

The Excised Portion of Etidorhpa

A letter about Etidorhpa sent to "Prof. Buck" from John Uri Lloyd


CHAPTER I.
NEVER LESS ALONE THAN WHEN ALONE.

MORE than thirty years ago occurred the first of the series of
remarkable events I am about to relate. The exact date I can not
recall; but it was in November, and, to those familiar with
November weather in the Ohio Valley, it is hardly necessary to
state that the month is one of possibilities. 

That is to say, it is liable to bring every variety of weather,
from the delicious, dreamy Indian summer days that linger late in
the fall, to a combination of rain, hail, snow, sleet, - in short,
atmospheric conditions sufficiently aggravating to develop a
suicidal mania in any one the least susceptible to such influences.
While the general character of the month is much the same the
country over, - showing dull grey tones of sky, abundant rains that
penetrate man as they do the earth; cold, shifting winds, that
search the very marrow, - it is always safe to count more or less
upon the probability of the unexpected throughout the month. 

The particular day which ushered in the event about to be
chronicled, was one of these possible heterogeneous days presenting
a combination of sunshine, shower, and snow, with winds that rang
all the changes from balmy to blustery, a morning air of caloric
and an evening of numbing cold. The early morning started fair and
sunny; later came light showers suddenly switched by shifting winds
into blinding sleet, until the middle of the afternoon found the
four winds and all the elements commingled in one wild orgy with
clashing and roaring as of a great organ with all the stops out,
and all the storm-fiends dancing over the key-boards! 

Nightfall brought some semblance of order to the sounding chaos,
but still kept up the wild music of a typical, November day, with
every accompaniment of bleakness, gloom, and desolation.

Thousands of chimneys, exhaling murky clouds of bituminous soot all
day, had covered the city with the proverbial pall which the winds
in their sport had shifted hither and yon, but as, thoroughly tired
out, they subsided into silence, the smoky mesh suddenly settled
over the houses and into the streets, taking possession of the city
and contributing to the melancholy wretchedness of such of the
inhabitants as had to be out of doors. 

Through this smoke the red sun when visible had dragged his
downward course in manifest discouragement, and the hastening
twilight soon gave place to the blackness of darkness. Night
reigned supreme.

Thirty years ago electric lighting was not in vogue, and the system
of street lamps was far less complete than at present, although the
gas burned in them may not have been any worse. The lamps were much
fewer and farther between, and the light which they emitted had a
feeble, sickly aspect, and did not reach any distance into the
moist and murky atmosphere. 

And so the night was dismal enough, and the few people upon the
street were visible only as they passed directly beneath the lamps,
or in front of lighted windows; seeming at other times like moving
shadows against a black ground.

As I am like to be conspicuous in these pages, it may be proper to
say that I am very susceptible to atmospheric influences. I figure
among my friends as a man of quiet disposition, but I am at times
morose, although I endeavor to conceal this fact from others. My
nervous system is a sensitive weather-glass. 

Sometimes I fancy that I must have been born under the planet
Saturn, for I find myself unpleasantly influenced by moods ascribed
to that depressing planet, more especially in its disagreeable
phases, for I regret to state that I do not find corresponding
elation, as I should, in its brighter aspects. 

I have an especial dislike for wintry weather, a dislike which I
find growing with my years, until it has developed almost into
positive antipathy and dread. On the day I have described, my moods
had varied with the weather. The fitfulness of the winds had found
its way into my feelings, and the somber tone of the clouds into my
meditations. 

I was restless as the elements, and a deep sense of dissatisfaction
with myself and everything else, possessed me. I could not content
myself in any place or position. Reading was distasteful, writing
equally so; but it occurred to me that a brisk walk, for a few
blocks, might afford relief. Muffling myself up in my overcoat and
fur cap, I took the street, only to find the air gusty and raw, and
I gave up in still greater disgust, and returning home, after
drawing the curtains and locking the doors, planted myself in front
of a glowing grate fire, firmly resolved to rid myself of myself by
resorting to the oblivion of thought, reverie, or dream. 

To sleep was impossible, and I sat moodily in an easy chair, noting
the quarter and half-hour strokes as they were chimed out sweetly
from the spire of St. Peter's Cathedral, a few blocks away.

Nine o'clock passed with, its silver-voiced song of "Home, Sweet
Home"; ten, and then eleven strokes of the ponderous bell which
noted the hours, roused me to a strenuous effort to shake off the
feelings of despondency, unrest, and turbulence, that all combined
to produce a state of mental and physical misery now insufferable. 

Rising suddenly from my chair, without a conscious effort I walked
mechanically to a book-case, seized a volume at random, reseated
myself before the fire, and opened the book. It proved to be an
odd, neglected volume, "Riley's Dictionary of Latin Quotations." At
the moment there flashed upon me a conscious duality of existence. 

Had the old book some mesmeric power? I seemed to myself two
persons, and I quickly said aloud, as if addressing my double: "If
I can not quiet you, turbulent Spirit, I can at least adapt myself
to your condition. I will read this book haphazard from bottom to
top, or backward, if necessary, and if this does not change the
subject often enough, I will try Noah Webster."Opening the book
mechanically at page 297, I glanced at the bottom line and read,
"Nunquam minus solos quam cum solos" (Never less alone than when
alone).

These words arrested my thoughts at once, as, by a singular chance,
they seemed to fit my mood; was it or was it not some conscious
invisible intelligence that caused me to select that page, and
brought the apothegm to my notice?

Again, like a flash, came the consciousness of duality, and I began
to argue with my other self. "This is arrant nonsense," I cried
aloud; "even though Cicero did say it, and, it is on a par with
many other delusive maxims that have for so many years embittered
the existence of our modern youth by misleading thought. Do you
know, Mr. Cicero, that this statement is not sound? That it is
unworthy the position you occupy in history as a thinker and
philosopher? 

That it is a contradiction in itself, for if a man is alone he is
alone, and that settles it?"

I mused in this vein a few moments, and then resumed aloud: "It
won't do, it won't do; if one is alone - the word is absolute, - he
is single, isolated, in short, alone; and there can by no manner of
possibility be any one else present. Take myself, for instance: I
am the sole occupant of this apartment; I am alone, and yet you say
in so many words that I was never less alone than at this instant."

It was not without some misgiving that I uttered these words, for
the strange consciousness of my own duality constantly grew
stronger, and I could not shake off the reflection that even now
there were two of myself in the room, and that I was not so much
alone as I endeavored to convince myself.

This feeling oppressed me like an incubus; I must throw it off,
and, rising, I tossed the book upon the table, exclaiming "What
folly! I am alone, - positively there is no other living thing
visible or invisible in the room." I hesitated as I spoke, for the
strange, undefined sensation that I was not alone had become almost
a conviction; but the sound of my voice encouraged me, and I
determined to discuss the subject, and I remarked in a full, strong
voice: "I am surely alone; I know I am! Why, I will wager
everything I possess, even to my soul, that I am alone."

I stood facing the smoldering embers of the fire which I had
neglected to replenish, uttering these words to settle the
controversy for good and all with one person of my dual self, but
the other ego seemed to dissent violently, when a soft, clear voice
claimed my ear: "You have lost your wager; you are not alone."

I turned instantly towards the direction of the sound, and, to my
amazement, saw a white-haired man seated on the opposite side of
the room, gazing at me with the utmost composure. I am not a
coward, nor a believer in ghosts or illusions, and yet that sight
froze me where I stood. 

It had no supernatural appearance - on the contrary, was a plain,
ordinary, flesh-and-blood man; but the weather, the experiences of
the day, the weird, inclement night, had all conspired to strain my
nerves to the highest point of tension, and I trembled from head to
foot. Noting this, the stranger said pleasantly: "Quiet yourself,
my dear sir; you have nothing to fear; be seated."

I obeyed, mechanically, and regaining in a few moments some
semblance of composure, took a mental inventory of my visitor. Who
is he? what is he? how did he enter without my notice, and why?
what is his business? were all questions that flashed into my mind
in quick succession, and quickly flashed out unanswered. 

The stranger sat eying me composedly, even pleasantly, as if
waiting for me to reach some conclusion regarding himself. At last
I surmised: "He is a maniac who has found his way here by methods
peculiar to the insane, and my personal safety demands that I use
him discreetly." 

"Very good," he remarked, as though reading my thoughts; "as well
think that as anything else." "But why are you here? What is your
business?" I asked. "You have made and lost a wager," he said. "You
have committed an act of folly in making positive statements
regarding a matter about which you know nothing - a very common
failing, by the way, on the part of mankind, and concerning which
I wish first to set you straight." 

The ironical coolness with which he said this provoked me, and I
hastily rejoined: "You are impertinent; I must ask you to leave my
house at once." "Very well," he answered; "but if you insist upon
this, I shall, on behalf of Cicero, claim the stake of your
voluntary wager, which means that I must first, by natural though
violent means, release your soul from your body."

So saying he arose, drew from an inner pocket a long, keen knife,
the blade of which quivenngly glistened as he laid it upon the
table. Moving his chair so: as to be within easy reach of the
gleaming weapon, be sat down, and again regarded me with the same
quiet composure I had noted, and which was fast dispelling my first
impression concerning his sanity. 

I was not prepared for his strange action; in truth, I was not
repared for anything; my mind was confused concerning the whole
night's doings, and I was unable to reason clearly or
consecutively, or even to satisfy myself what I did think, if
indeed I thought at all. The sensation of fear, however, was fast
leaving me ; there was something reassuring in my unbidden guest's
perfect ease of manner, and the mild, though searching gaze of his
eyes, which were wonderful in their expression. 

I began to observe his personal characteristics, which impressed me
favorably, and yet were extraordinary. He was nearly six feet tall,
and perfectly straight; well proportioned, with no tendency either
to leanness or obesity. But his head was an object from which I
could not take my eyes, - such a head surely I had never before
seen on mortal shoulders. 

The chin, as seen through his silver beard, was rounded and well
developed, the mouth straight, with pleasant lines about it, the
jaws square and, like the mouth, indicating decision, the eyes deep
set and arched with heavy eyebrows, and the whole surmounted by a
forehead so vast, so high, that it was almost a deformity, and yet
it did not impress me unpleasantly; it was the forehead of a
scholar, a profound thinker, a deep student. 

The nose was inclined to aquiline, and quite large. The contour of
the head and face impressed me as indicating a man of learning, one
who had given a lifetime to experimental as well as speculative
thought. His voice was mellow, clear, and distinct, always
pleasantly modulated and soft, never loud nor unpleasant in the
least degree. 

One remarkable feature I must not fail to mention - his hair; this,
while thin and scant upon the top of his head, was long, and
reached to his shoulders; his beard was of unusual length,
descending almost to his waist; his hair, eyebrows, and beard were
all of singular whiteness and purity, almost transparent, a silvery
whiteness that seemed an aureolar sheen in the glare of the
gaslight. 

What struck me as particularly remarkable was that his skin looked
as soft and smooth as that of a child; there was not a blemish in
it. His age was a puzzle none could guess; stripped of his hair, or
the color of it changed, he might be twenty-five, - given a few
wrinkles, he might be ninety. Taken altogether, I had never seen
his like, nor anything approaching his like, and for an instant
there was a faint suggestion to my mind that he was not of this
earth, but belonged to some other planet. 

I now fancy he must have read my impressions of him as these ideas
shaped themselves in my brain, and that he was quietly waiting for
me to regain a degree of self-possession that would allow him to
disclose the purpose of his visit. 

He was first to break the silence: "I see that you are not disposed
to pay your wager any more than I am to collect it, so we will not
discuss that. I admit that my introduction tonight was abrupt, but
you can not deny that you challenged me to appear." I was not clear
upon the point, and said so. "Your memory is at fault," he
continued, "if you can not recall your experiences of the day just
past. 

Did you not attempt to interest yourself in modern book lore, to
fix your mind in turn upon history, chemistry, botany, poetry, and
general literature? And all these failing, did you not deliberately
challenge Cicero to a practical demonstration of an old apothegm of
his that has survived for centuries, and of your own free will did
not you make a wager that, as an admirer of Cicero's, I am free to
accept?" 

To all this I could but silently assent. "Very good, then; we will
not pursue this subject further, as it is not relevant to my
purpose, which is to acquaint you with a narrative of unusual
interest, upon certain conditions, with which if you comply, you
will not only serve yourself, but me as well." 

"Please name the conditions," I said. "They are simple enough,"
he answered. "The narrative I speak of is in manuscript. I will
produce it in the near future, and my design is to read it aloud to
you, or to allow you to read it to me, as you may select. Further,
my wish is that during the reading you shall interpose any
objection or question that you deem proper. This reading will
occupy many evenings, and I shall of necessity be with you often. 

When the reading is concluded, we will seal the package securely,
and I shall leave you forever. You will then deposit the manuscript
in some safe place, and let it remain for thirty years. When this
period has elapsed, I wish you to publish this history to the
world." 

"Your conditions seem easy,"I said, after a few seconds' pause.
"They are certainly very simple; do you accept?" I hesitated, for
the prospect of giving myself up to a succession of interviews with
this extraordinary and mysterious personage seemed to require
consideration. He evidently divined my thoughts, for, rising from
his chair, he said abruptly: "Let me have your answer now." I
debated the matter no further, but answered: "I accept,
conditionally." 

"Name your conditions," the guest replied. "I will either publish
the work, or induce some other man to do so." "Good," he said; "I
will see you again," with a polite bow; and turning to the door
which I had previously locked, he opened it softly, and with a
quiet " Good night" disappeared in the hallway. 

I looked after him with bewildered senses; but a sudden impulse
caused me to glance toward the table, when I saw that he had
forgotten his knife. With the view of returning this, I reached to
pick it up, but my finger tips no sooner touched the handle than a
sudden chill shivered along my nerves. Not as an electric shock,
but rather as a sensation of extreme cold was the current that ran
through me in an instant. 

Rushing into the hallway to the landing of the stairs, I called
after the mysterious being, "You have forgotten your knife," but
beyond the faint echo of my voice, I heard no sound. The phantom
was gone. A moment later I was at the foot of the stairs, and had
thrown open the door. A street lamp shed an uncertain light in
front of the house. 

I stepped out and listened intently for a moment, but not a sound
was audible, if indeed I except the beating of my own heart, which
throbbed so wildly that I fancied I heard it. No footfall echoed
from the deserted streets; all was silent as a churchyard, and I
closed and locked the door softly, tiptoed my way back to my room,
and sank collapsed into an easy chair. 

I was more than exhausted; I quivered from head to foot, not with
cold, but with a strange nervous chill that found intensest
expression in my spinal column, and seemed to flash up and down my
back vibrating like a feverous pulse. This active pain was
succeeded by a feeling of frozen numbness, and I sat I know not how
long, trying to tranquilize myself and think temperately of the
night's occurrence. 

By degrees I recovered my normal sensations, and directing my will
in the channel of sober reasoning, I said to myself: "There can be
no mistake about his visit, for his knife is here as a witness to
the fact. So much is sure, and I will secure that testimony at all
events."

With this reflection I turned to the table, but to my astonishment;
I discovered that the knife had disappeared. It needed but this
miracle to start the perspiration in great cold beads from every
pore. My brain was in a whirl, and reeling into a chair, I covered
my face with my hands. How long I sat in this posture I do not
remember. I only know that I began to doubt my own sanity, and
wondered if this were not the way people became deranged. Had not
my peculiar habits of isolation, irregular and intense study,
erratic living, all conspired to unseat reason? 

Surely here was every ground to believe so; and yet I was able
still to think consistently and hold steadily to a single line of
thought. Insane people can not do that, I reflected, and gradually
the tremor and excitement wore away. When I had become calmer and
more collected, and my sober judgment said, "Go to bed; sleep just
as long as you can; hold your eyelids down, and when you awake
refreshed, as you will, think out the whole subject at your
leisure,"

I arose, threw open the shutters, and found that day was breaking.
Hastily undressing I went to bed, and closed my eyes, vaguely
conscious of some soothing guardianship. Perhaps because I was
physically exhausted, I soon lost myself in the oblivion of sleep.
I did not dream, - at least I could not afterwards remember my
dream if I had one, but I recollect thinking that somebody struck
ten distinct blows on my door, which seemed to me to be of metal
and very sonorous. 

These ten blows in my semi-conscious state I counted. I lay very
quiet for a time collecting my thoughts and noting various objects
about the room, until my eye caught the dial of a French clock upon
the mantel. It was a few minutes past ten, and the blows I had
heard were the strokes of the hammer upon the gong in the clock. 

The sun was shining into the room, which was quite cold, for the
fire had gone out. I arose, dressed myself quickly, and after
thoroughly laving my face and hands in ice-cold water, felt
considerably refreshed. Before going out to breakfast, while
looking around the room for a few things which I wanted to take
with me, I espied upon the table a long white hair. 

This was indeed a surprise, for I had about concluded that my
adventure of the previous night was a species of waking nightmare,
the result of overworked brain and weakened body. But here was
tangible evidence to the contrary, an assurance that my mysterious
visitor was not a fancy or a dream, and his parting words, "I will
see you again," recurred to me with singular effect. 

"He will see me again; very well; I will preserve this evidence of
his visit for future use."I wound the delicate filament into a
little coil, folded it carefully in a bit of paper, and consigned
it to a corner in my pocket-book, though not without some misgiving
that it too night disappear as did the knife. 

The strange experience of that night had a good effect on me; I
became more regular in all my habits, took abundant deep and
exercise, was more methodical in my modes of study and reasoning,
and in a short time found myself vastly improved in every way,
mentally and physically. The days went fleeting into weeks, the
weeks into months, and while the form and figure of the
white-haired stranger were seldom absent from my mind, he came no
more.


CHAPTER II. 
A FRIENDLY CONFERENCE.

It is rare, in our present civilization, to find a man who lives
alone. This remark does not apply to hermits or persons of abnormal
or perverted mental tendencies, but to the majority of mankind
living and moving actively among their fellows, and engaged in the
ordinary occupations of humanity. 

Every man must have at least one confidant, either of his own
household, or within the circle of his intimate friends. There may
possibly be rare exceptions among persons of genius in statecraft,
war, or commerce, but it is doubtful even in such instances if any
keep all their thoughts to themselves, hermetically sealed from
their fellows.

As a prevailing rule, either a loving wife or very near friend
shares the inner thought of the most secretive individual, even
when secrecy seems an indispensable element to success. The
tendency to a free interchange of ideas and experiences is almost
universal, instinct prompting the natural man to unburden his most
sacred thought, when the proper confidant and the proper time come
for the disclosure.

For months I kept to myself the events narrated in the preceding
chapter. And this for several reasons: first, the dread of ridicule
that would follow the relation of the fantastic occurrences, and
the possible suspicion of my sanity, that might result from the
recital; second, very grave doubts as to the reality of my
experiences. 

But by degrees self-confidence was restored, as I reasoned the
matter over and reassured myself by occasional contemplation of the
silvery hair I had coiled in my pocketbook, and which at first I
had expected would vanish as did the stranger's knife. There came
upon me a feeling that I should see my weird visitor again, and at
an early day. 

I resisted this impression, for it was a feeling of the idea,
rather than a thought, but the vague expectation grew upon me in
spite of myself, until at length it became a conviction which no
argument or logic could shake. Curiously enough, as the original
incident receded into the past, this new idea thrust itself into
the foreground, and I began in my own mind to court another
interview. 

At times, sitting alone after night, I felt that I was watched by
unseen eyes; these eyes haunted me in my solitude, and I was
morally sure of the presence of another than myself in the room.
The sensation was at first unpleasant, and I tried to throw it off,
with partial success. But only for a little while could I banish
the intrusive idea, and as the thought took form, and the invisible
presence became more actual to consciousness, I hoped that the
stranger would make good his parting promise, "I will see you
again."

On one thing I was resolved; I would at least be better informed on
the subject of hallucinations and apparitions, and not be taken
unawares as I had been. To this end I decided to confer with my
friend, Professor Chickering, a quiet, thoughtful man, of varied
accomplishments, and thoroughly read upon a great number of topics,
especially in the literature of the marvelous. 

So to the Professor I went, after due appointment, and confided to
him full particulars of my adventure. He listened patiently
throughout, and when I had finished, assured me in a matter-of-fact
way that such hallucinations were by no means rare. His remark was
provoking, for I did not expect from the patient interest he had
shown while I was telling my story, that the whole matter would be
dismissed thus summarily. 

I said with some warmth: "But this was not a hallucination. I tried
at first to persuade myself that it was illusory, but the more I
have thought the experience over, the more real it becomes to me."
"Perhaps you were dreaming," suggested the Professor. "No," I
answered; "I have tried that hypothesis, and it will not do. Many
things make that view untenable."

"Do not be too sure of that,"he said; "you were, by your own
account, in a highly nervous condition, and physically tired. It is
possible, perhaps probable, that in this state, as you sat in your
chair, you dozed off for a short interval, during which the
illusion flashed through your mind." 

"How do you explain the fact that incidents occupying a large
portion of the night, occurred in an interval which you describe as
a flash?" "Easily enough; in dreams time may not exist: periods
embracing weeks or months may be reduced to an instant. Long
journeys, hours of conversation, or a multitude of transactions,
may be compressed into a term measured by the opening or closing of
a door, or the striking of a clock. 

In dreams, ordinary standards of reason find no place, while ideas
or events chase through the mind more rapidly than thought."
"Conceding all this, why did I, considering the unusual character
of the incidents, accept them as real, as substantial, as natural
as the most commonplace events?"

"There is nothing extraordinary in that,"he replied. "In dreams all
sorts of absurdities, impossibilities, discordancies, and violation
of natural law appear realities, without exciting the least
surprise or suspicion. Imagination runs riot and is supreme, and
reason for the time is dormant. We see ghosts, spirits, the forms
of persons dead or living, - we suffer pain, pleasure, hunger, -
and all sensations and emotions, without a moment's question of
their reality."

"Do any of the subjects of our dreams or visions leave tangible
evidences of their presence?" "Assuredly not," he answered, with an
incredulous, half impatient gesture; "the idea is absurd." "Then I
was not dreaming," I mused. Without looking at me, the Professor
went on: "These false presentiments may have their origin in other
ways, as from mental disorders caused by indigestion. Nicolai, a
noted bookseller of Berlin, was thus afflicted. His experiences are
interesting and possibly suggestive. Let me read some of them to
you."

The Professor hereupon glanced over his bookshelf, selected a
volume, and proceeded to read: "I generally saw human forms of both
sexes; but they usually seemed not to take the smallest notice of
each other, moving as in a market place, where all are eager to
press through the crowd; at times, however, they seemed to be
transacting business with each other. I also saw several times,
people on horseback, dogs, and birds. "All these phantasms appeared
to me in their natural size, and as distinct as if alive,
exhibiting different shades of carnation in the uncovered parts, as
well as different colors and fashions in their dresses, though the
colors seemed somewhat paler than in real nature. 

None of the figures appeared particularly terrible, comical, or
disgusting, most of them being of indifferent shape, and some
presenting a pleasant aspect. The longer these phantasms continued
to visit me, the more frequently did they return, while at the same
time they increased in number about four weeks after they had first
appeared. I also began to hear them talk: these phantoms conversed
among themselves, but more frequently addressed their discourse to
me; their speeches were uncommonly short, and never of an
unpleasant turn. 

At different times there appeared to me both dear and sensible
friends of both sexes, whose addresses tended to appease my grief,
which had not yet wholly subsided: their consolatory speeches were
in general addressed to me when I was alone. Sometimes, however, I
was accosted by these consoling friends while I was engaged in
company, and not unfrequently while real persons were speaking to
me. These consolatory addresses consisted sometimes of abrupt
phrases, and at other times they were regularly executed."

Here I interrupted: "I note, Professor, that Mr. Nicolai knew these
forms to be illusions." Without answering my remark, he continued
to read: "There is in imagination a potency far exceeding the
fabled power of Aladdin's lamp. How often does one sit in wintry
evening musings, and trace in the glowing embers the features of an
absent friend? Imagination, with its magic wand, will there build
a city with its countless spires, or marshal contending armies, or
drive the tempest-shattered ship upon the ocean.

The following story, related by Scott, affords a good illustration
of this principle: "`Not long after the death of an illustrious
poet, who had filled, while living, a great station in the eyes of
the public, a literary friend, to whom the deceased had been well
known, was engaged during the darkening twilight of an autumn
evening, in perusing one of the publications which professed to
detail the habits and opinions of the distinguished individual who
was now no more. 

As the reader had enjoyed the intimacy of the deceased to a
considerable degree, he was deeply interested in the publication,
which contained some particulars relating to himself and other
friends. A visitor was sitting in the apartment, who was also
engaged in reading. Their sitting-room opened into an entrance
hall, rather fantastically fitted up with articles of armor, skins
of wild animals, and the like. 

It was when laying down his book, and passing into this hall,
through which the moon was beginning to shine, that the individual
of whom I speak saw right before him, in a standing posture, the
exact representation of his departed friend, whose recollection had
been so strongly brought to his imagination. He stopped for a
single moment, so as to notice the wonderful accuracy with which
fancy had impressed upon the bodily eye the peculiarities of dress
and position of the illustrious poet. 

Sensible, however, of the delusion, he felt no sentiment save that
of wonder at the extraordinary accuracy of the resemblance, and
stepped onward to the figure, which resolved itself as he
approached into the various materials of which it was composed.
These were merely a screen occupied by great coats, shawls, plaids,
and such other articles as are usually found in a country entrance
hall. 

The spectator returned to the spot from which he had seen the
illusion, and endeavored with all his power to recall the image
which had been so singularly vivid. But this he was unable to do.
And the person who had witnessed the apparition, or, more properly,
whose excited state had been the means of raising it, had only to
return to the apartment, and tell his young friend under what a
striking hallucination he had for a moment labored." 

Here I was constrained to call the Professor to a halt. "Your
stories are very interesting," I said, "but I fail to perceive any
analogy in either the conditions or the incidents, to my
experience. I was fully awake and conscious at the time, and the
man I saw appeared and moved about in the full glare of the
gaslight," "Perhaps not," he answered; "I am simply giving you some
general illustrations of the subject. But here is a case more to
the point." 

Again he read: "A lady was once passing through a wood, in the
darkening twilight of a stormy evening, to visit a friend who was
watching over a dying child. The clouds were thick - the rain
beginning to fall; darkness was increasing; the wind was moaning
mournfully through the trees. The lady's heart almost failed her as
she saw that she had a mile to walk through the woods in the
gathering gloom. But the reflection of the situation of her friend
forbade her turning back.

Excited and trembling, she called to her aid a nervous resolution,
and pressed onward. She had not proceeded far when she beheld in
the path before her the movement of some very indistinct object. It
appeared to keep a little distance ahead of her, and as she made
efforts to get nearer to see what it was, it seemed proportionally
to recede.

The lady began to feel rather unpleasantly. There was some pale
white object certainly discernible before her, and it appeared
mysteriously to float along, at a regular distance, without any
effort at motion. Notwithstanding the lady's good sense and unusual
resolution, a cold chill began to come over her. She made every
effort to resist her fears, and soon succeeded in drawing nearer
the mysterious object, when, she was appalled at beholding the
features of her friend's child, cold in death, wrapt in its shroud.

She gazed earnestly, and there it remained distinct and clear
before her eyes. She considered it a premonition that her friend's
child was dead, and that she must hasten to her aid. But there was
the apparition directly in her path. She must pass it. Taking up a
little stick, she forced herself along to the object, and behold,
some little animal scampered away. It was this that her excited
imagination had transformed into the corpse of an infant in its
winding sheet."

I was a little irritated, and once more interrupted the reader
warmly: "This is exasperating. Now what resemblance is there
between the vagaries of a hysterical, weak-minded woman, and my
case?" He smiled, and again read: "The numerous stories told of
ghosts, or the spirits of persons who are dead, will in most
instances be found to have originated in diseased imagination,
aggravated by some abnormal defect of mind. We may mention a
remarkable case in point, and one which is not mentioned in English
works on this subject; it is told by a compiler of Les Causes
Celebres. 

Two young noblemen, the Marquises De Rambouillet and De Precy,
belonging to two of the first families of France, made an
agreement, in the warmth of their friendship, that the one who died
first should return to the other with tidings of the world to come.

Soon afterwards De Rambouillet went to the wars in Flanders, while
De Precy remained at Paris, stricken by a fever. Lying alone in
bed, and severely ill, De Precy one day heard a rustling of his bed
curtains, and turning round, saw his friend De Rambouillet, in full
military attire. The sick man sprung over the bed to welcome his
friend, but the other receded, and said that he had come to fulfill
his promise, having been killed on that very day.

He further said that it behooved De Precy to think more of the
after world, as all that was said of it was true, and as he himself
would die in his first battle. De Precy was then left by the
phantom; and it was afterward found that De Rambouillet had fallen
on that day."

"Ah," I said, "and so the phantom predicted an event that followed
as indicated." "Spiritual illusions," explained the Professor, "are
not unusual, and well authenticated cases are not wanting in which
they have been induced in persons of intelligence by functional or
organic disorders. In the last case cited, the prediction was
followed by a fulfillment, but this was chance or mere coincidence.

It would be strange indeed if in the multitude of dreams that come
to humanity, some few should not be followed by events so similar
as to warrant the belief that they were prefigured. But here is an
illustration that fits your case: let me read it: "In some
instances it may be difficult to decide whether spectral
appearances and spectral noises proceed from physical derangement
or from an overwrought state of mind. Want of exercise and
amusement may also be a prevailing cause.

A friend mentions to us the following case: An acquaintance of his,
a merchant, in London, who had for years paid very close attention
to business, was one day, while alone in his counting house, very
much surprised to hear, as he imagined, persons outside the door
talking freely about him. Thinking it was some acquaintances who
were playing off a trick, he opened the door to request them to
come in, when to his amazement, he found that nobody was there.

He again sat down to his desk, and in a few minutes the same
dialogue recommenced. The language was very alarming. One voice
seemed to say: `We have the scoundrel in his own counting house;
let us go in and seize him. 'Certainly,' replied the other voice,
'it is right to take him; he has been guilty of a great crime, and
ought to be brought to condign punishment.' Alarmed at these
threats, the bewildered merchant rushed to the door; and there
again no person was to be seen.

He now locked his door and went home; but the voices, as he
thought, followed him through the crowd, and he arrived at his
house in a most unenviable state of mind. Inclined to ascribe the
voices to derangement in mind, he sent for a medical attendant, and
told his case, and a certain kind of treatment was prescribed. 

This, however, failed; the voices menacing him with punishment for
purely imaginary crimes continued, and he was reduced to the brink
of despair. At length a friend prescribed entire relaxation from
business, and a daily game of cricket, which, to his great relief,
proved an effectual remedy. The exercise banished the phantom
voices, and they were no more heard."

"So you think that I am in need of out-door exercise?" "Exactly."
"And that my experience was illusory, the result of vertigo, or
some temporary calenture of the brain?" "To be plain with you,
yes." "But I asked you a while ago if specters or phantoms ever
leave tangible evidence of their presence." 

The Professor's eyes dilated in interrogation. I continued: "Well,
this one did. After I had followed him out, I found on the table a
long, white hair, which I still have," and producing the little
coil from my pocket-book, I handed it to him. He examined it
curiously, eyed me furtively, and handed it back with the cautious
remark: "I think you had better commence your exercise at once." 


CHAPTER III. 
A SECOND INTERVIEW WITH THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 

It is not pleasant to have one's mental responsibility brought in
question, and the result of my interview with Professor Chickering
was, to put it mildly, unsatisfactory. Not that he had exactly
questioned my sanity, but it was all too evident that he was
disposed to accept my statement of a plain matter-of-fact
occurrence with a too liberal modicum of salt. 

I say "matter-of-fact occurrence" in full knowledge of the truth
that I myself had at first regarded the whole transaction as a
fantasia or flight of mind, the result of extreme nervous tension;
but in the interval succeeding I had abundant opportunity to
correlate my thoughts, and to bring some sort of order out of the
mental and physical chaos of that strange, eventful night. 

True, the preliminary events leading up to it were extraordinary;
the dismal weather, the depression of body and spirit under which
I labored, the wild whirl of thought keeping pace with the elements
- in short, a general concatenation of events that seemed to be
ordered especially for the introduction of some abnormal visitor -
the night would indeed have been incomplete without a ghost!

But was it a ghost? There was nothing ghostly about my visitor,
except the manner of his entrance and exit. In other respects, he
seemed substantial enough. He was, in his manners, courteous and
polished as a Chesterfield; learned as a savant in his
conversation; human in his thoughtful regard of my fears and
misgivings; but that tremendous forehead, with its crown of silver
hair, the long, translucent beard of pearly whiteness, and above
all the astounding facility with which he read my hidden thoughts
- these were not natural. 
The Professor had been patient with me - I had a right to expect
that; he was entertaining to the extent of reading such excerpts as
he had with him on the subject of hallucinations and their supposed
causes, but had he not spoiled all by assigning me at last to a
place with the questionable, unbalanced characters he had cited? 

I thought so, and the reflection provoked me; and this thought grew
upon me until I came to regard his stories and attendant theories
as so much literary trash. My own reflections had been sober and
deliberate, and had led me to seek a rational explanation of the
unusual phenomena. I had gone to Professor Chickering for a certain
measure of sympathy, and what was more to the point, to secure his
suggestions and assistance in the further unraveling of a profound
mystery that might contain a secret of untold use to humanity. 

Repulsed by the mode in which my confidence had been received, I
decided to do what I should have done from the outset- to keep my
own counsel, and to follow alone the investigation to the end, no
matter what the result might be. I could not forget or ignore the
silver hair I had so religiously preserved. That was genuine; it
was as tangible, as real, as convincing a witness as would have
been the entire head of my singular visitant, whatever might be his
nature. 

I began to feel at ease the moment my course was decided, and the
feeling was at once renewed within me that the gray head would come
again, and by degrees that expectation ripened into a desire, only
intensified as the days sped by. The weeks passed into months;
summer came and went; autumn was fast fading, but the mysterious
unknown did not appear.

A curious fancy led me now to regard him as my friend, for the
mixed and indefinite feelings I felt at first towards him had
almost unaccountably been changed to those of sincere regard. He
was not always in my thoughts, for I had abundant occupation at all
times to keep both brain and hands busy, but there were few
evenings in which I did not, just before retiring, give myself up
for a brief period to quiet communion with my own thoughts, and I
must confess at such times the unknown occupied the larger share of
attention.

The constant contemplation of any theme begets a feeling of
familiarity or acquaintance with the same, and if that subject be
an individual, as in the present instance, such contemplation
lessens the liability to surprise from any unexpected development.
In fact, I not only anticipated a visit, but courted it. The old
Latin maxim that I had played with, "Never less alone than when
alone" had domiciled itself within my brain as a permanent lodger
- a conviction, a feeling rather than a thought defined, and I had
but little difficulty in associating an easy-chair which I had come
to place in a certain position for my expected visitor, with his
presence.

Indian summer had passed, and the fall was nearly gone when for
some inexplicable reason the number seven began to haunt me. What
had I to do with seven, or seven with me? When I sat down at night
this persistent number mixed itself in my thoughts, to my intense
annoyance. Bother take the mystic numeral! What was I to do with
seven? I found myself asking this question audibly one evening,
when it suddenly occurred to me that I would refer to the date of
my friend's visit.

I kept no journal, but reference to a record of some business
transactions that I had associated with that event showed that it
took place on November seventh. That settled the importunate seven!
I should look for whomever he was on the first anniversary of his
visit, which was the seventh, now close at hand. The instant I had
reached this conclusion the number left me, and troubled me no
more. 

November third had passed, the fourth, and the fifth had come, when
a stubborn, protesting notion entered my mind that I was yielding
to a superstitious idea, and that it was time to control my
vacillating will. Accordingly on this day I sent word to a friend
that, if agreeable to him, I would call on him on the evening of
the seventh for a short social chat, but as I expected to be
engaged until later than usual, would he excuse me if I did not
reach his apartments until ten? 

The request was singular, but as I was now accounted somewhat odd,
it excited no comment, and the answer was returned, requesting me
to come. The seventh of November came at last. I was nervous during
the day, which seemed to drag tediously, and several times it was
remarked of me that I seemed abstracted and ill at ease, but I held
my peace.

Night came cold and clear, and the stars shone brighter than usual,
I thought. It was a sharp contrast to the night of a year ago. I
took an early supper, for which I had no appetite, after which I
strolled aimlessly about the streets, revolving how I should put in
the time till ten o'clock, when I was to call upon my friend. I
decided to go to the theater, and to the theater I went.

The play was spectacular, "Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp."
The entertainment, to me, was a flat failure, for I was busy with
my thoughts, and it was not long until my thoughts were busy with
me, and I found myself attempting to answer a series of questions
that finally became embarrassing. 

"Why did you make an appointment for ten o'clock instead of eight,
if you wished to keep away from your apartments?" I hadn't thought
of that before; it was stupid to a degree, if not ill-mannered, and
I frankly admitted as much. "Why did you make an appointment at
all, in the face of the fact that you not only expected a visitor,
but were anxious to meet him?" 

This was easily answered: because I did not wish to yield to what
struck me as superstition. "But do you expect to extend your call
until morning ?" Well, no, I hadn't thought or arranged to do so.
"Well, then, what is to prevent your expected guest from awaiting
your return? Or, what assurance have you that he will not encounter
you in the street, under circumstances that will provoke or, at the
least, embarrass you?" 

None whatever."Then what have you gained by your stupid
perversity?" Nothing, beyond the assertion of my own individuality.
"Why not go home and receive your guest in becoming style?" No; I
would not do that. I had started on this course, and I would
persevere in it. I would be consistent. And so I persisted, at
least until nine o'clock, when I quit the theater in sullen
dejection, and went home to make some slight preparation for my
evening call.

With my latch-key I let myself into the front door of the apartment
house wherein I lodged, walked through the hall, up the staircase,
and paused on the threshold of my room, wondering what I would find
inside. Opening the door I entered, leaving it open behind me so
that the light from the hallway would shine into the room, which
was dark, and there was no transom above the door.

The grate fire had caked into a solid mass of charred bituminous
coal, which shed no illumination beyond a faint red glow at the
bottom, showing that it was barely alive, and no more. I struck a
match on the underside of the mantel shelf, and as I lit the gas I
heard the click of the door latch. I turned instantly; the door had
been gently closed by some unknown force if not by unseen hands,
for there was no breath of air stirring.

This preternatural interference was not pleasant, for I had hoped
in the event of another visit from my friend, if friend he was,
that he would bring no uncanny or ghostly manifestation to disturb
me. I looked at the clock; the index pointed to half past nine. I
glanced about the room; it was orderly, everything in proper
position, even to the arm-chair that I had been wont to place for
my nondescript visitor.

It was time to be going, so I turned to the dressing case, brushed
my hair, put on a clean scarf, and moved towards the wash-stand,
which stood in a little alcove on the opposite side of the room. My
self-command well-nigh deserted me as I did so, for there, in the
arm-chair that a moment before was empty, sat my guest of a year
ago, facing me with placid features!

The room began to revolve, a faint, sick feeling came over me, and
I reeled into the first convenient chair, and covered my face with
my hands. This depression lasted but an instant, however, and as I
recovered self-possession, I felt or fancied I felt a pair of
penetrating eyes fixed upon me with the same mild, searching gaze
I remembered so well.

I ventured to look up; sure enough, there they were, the beaming
eyes, and there was he! Rising from his chair, he towered up to his
full height, smiled pleasantly, and with a slight inclination of
the head, murmured: "Permit me to wish you good evening; I am
profoundly glad to meet you again." It was full a minute before I
could muster courage to answer "I wish I could say as much for
myself." "And why shouldn't you?" he said, gently and courteously;
"you have realized, for the past six months, that I would return;
more than that - you have known for some time the very day and
almost the exact hour of my coming, have even wished for it, and,
in the face of all this, I find you preparing to evade the
requirements of common hospitality; are you doing either me or
yourself justice?"

I was nettled at the knowledge he displayed of my movements, and of
my very thoughts; my old stubbornness asserted itself, and I was
rude enough to say: "Perhaps it is as you say; at all events, I am
obligated to keep an engagement, and with your permission will now
retire." It was curious to mark the effect of this speech upon the
intruder. He immediately became grave, reached quietly into an
inner pocket of his coat, drew thence the same glittering,
horrible, mysterious knife that had so terrified and bewildered me
a year before, and looking me steadily in the eye, said coldly, yet
with a certain tone of sadness: "Well, I will not grant permission.

It is unpleasant to resort to this style of argument, but I do it
to save time and controversy." I stepped back in terror, and
reached for the old-fashioned bell-cord, with the heavy tassel at
the end, that depended from the ceiling, and was on the point of
grasping and giving it a vigorous pull. "Not so fast, if you
please," he said, sternly, as he stepped forward, and gave the
knife a rapid swish through the air above my head, causing the cord
to fall in a tangle about my hand, cut cleanly, high above my
reach!

I gazed in dumb stupor at the rope about my hand, and raised my
eyes to the remnant above. That was motionless; there was not the
slightest perceptible vibration, such as would naturally be
expected. I turned to look at my guest; he had resumed his seat,
and had also regained his pleasant expression, but he still held
the knife in his hand with his arm extended, at rest, upon the
table, which stood upon his right. "Let us have an end to this
folly," he said; "think a moment, and you will see that you are in
fault. Your error we will rectify easily, and then to business. I
will first show you the futility of trying to escape this
interview, and then we will proceed to work, for time presses, and
there is much to do."

Having delivered this remark, he detached a single silvery hair
from his head, blew it from his fingers, and let it float gently
upon the upturned edge of the knife, which was still resting on the
table. The hair was divided as readily as had been the bell-cord.
I was transfixed with astonishment, for he had evidently aimed to
exhibit the quality of the blade, though he made no allusion to the
feat, but smilingly went on with his discourse: "It is just a year
ago to-night since we first met. Upon that occasion you made an
agreement with me which you are in honor bound to keep, and " -
here he paused as if to note the effect of his words upon me, then
added significantly -"will keep. I have been at some pains to
impress upon your mind the fact that I would be here tonight.

You responded, and knew that I was coming, and yet in obedience to
a silly whim, deliberately made a meaningless engagement with no
other purpose than to violate a solemn obligation. I now insist
that you keep your prior engagement with me, but I do not wish that
you should be rude to your friend, so you had better write him a
polite note excusing yourself, and dispatch it at once."

I saw that he was right, and that there was no shadow of
justification for my conduct, or at least I was subdued by his
presence, so I wrote the note without delay, and was casting about
for some way to send it, when he said: "Fold it, seal it, and
address it; you seem to forget what is proper."

I did as he directed, mechanically, and, without thinking what I
was doing, handed it to him. He took it naturally, glanced at the
superscription, went to the door which he opened slightly, and
handed the billet as if to some messenger who seemed to be in
waiting outside, - then closed and locked the door. Turning toward
me with the apparent object of seeing if I was looking, he deftly
drew his knife twice across the front of the door knob, making a
deep cross, and then deposited the knife in his pocket, and resumed
his seat.

As soon as he was comfortably seated, he again began the
conversation: "Now that we have settled the preliminaries, I will
ask if you remember what I required of you a year ago?" I thought
that I did. "Please repeat it; I wish to make sure that you do,
then we will start fair." "In the first place, you were to present
me with a manuscript ". "Hardly correct," he interrupted; "I was to
acquaint you with a narrative which is already in manuscript,
acquaint you with it, read it to you, if you preferred not to read
it to me "- "I beg your pardon," I answered; "that is correct. You
were to read the manuscript to me, and during the reading I was to
interpose such comments, remarks, or objections, as seemed proper;
to embody as interludes, in the manuscript, as my own
interpolations, however, and not as part of the original."

I noted afterward that the door-knob, which was of solid metal, was
cut deeply, as though made of putty. "Very good," he replied, "you
have the idea exactly; proceed." "I agreed that when the reading
had been completed, I would seal the complete manuscript securely,
deposit it in some safe place, there to remain for thirty years,
when it must be published." "Just so," he answered; "we understand
each other as we should. Before we proceed further, however, can
you think of any point on which you need enlightenment? If so, ask
such questions as you choose, and I will answer them."

I thought for a moment, but no query occurred to me; after a pause
he said: "Well, if you think of nothing now, perhaps hereafter
questions will occur to you which you can ask; but as it is late,
and you are tired, we will not commence now. I will see you just
one week from tonight, when we will begin. From that time on, we
will follow the subject as rapidly as you choose, but see to it
that you make no engagements that will interfere with our work, for
I shall be more exacting in the future."

I promised, and he rose to go. A sudden impulse seized me, and I
said: "May I ask one question?" "Certainly." "What shall I call you
?" "Why call me aught? It is not necessary in addressing each other
that any name be used." "But what are you?" I persisted. A pained
expression for an instant rested upon his face, and he said, sadly,
pausing between the words: "I-Am-The-Man Who-Did-It." "Did what?"

"Ask not; the manuscript will tell you. Be content, Llewellyn, and
remember this, that I-Am-The-Man." So saying he bade me good night,
opened the door, and disappeared down the broad staircase. One week
thereafter he appeared promptly, seated himself, and producing a
roll of manuscript, handed it to me, saying, "I am listening; you
may begin to read." 

On examination I found each page to be somewhat larger than a sheet
of letter paper, with the written matter occupying a touch smaller
space, so as to leave a wide white border. One hundred pages were
in the package. The last sentence ending abruptly indicated that my
guest did not expect to complete his task in one evening, and, I
may anticipate by saying that with each successive interview he
drew about the same amount of writing from his bosom. 

Upon attempting to read the manuscript I at first found myself
puzzled by a style of chirography very peculiar and characteristic,
but execrably bad. Vainly did I attempt to read it; even the
opening sentence was not deciphered without long inspection and
great difficulty. The old man, whom I had promised that I would
fulfill the task, observing my discomfiture, relieved me of the
charge, and without a word of introduction, read fluently as
follows: 


CHAPTER IV. 
A SEARCH FOR KNOWLEDGE. THE ALCHEMISTIC LETTER. 

I am the man who, unfortunately for my future happiness, was
dissatisfied with such knowledge as could be derived from ordinary
books concerning semi-scientific subjects in which I had long been
absorbed. 

I studied the current works of my day on philosophy and chemistry,
hoping therein to find something tangible regarding the
relationship that exists between matter and spirit, but studied in
vain. Astronomy, history, philosophy and the mysterious, incoherent
works of alchemy and occultism were finally appealed to, but
likewise failed to satisfy me. 

These studies were pursued in secret, though I am not aware that
any necessity existed for concealment. Be that as it may, at every
opportunity I covertly acquainted myself with such alchemical lore
as could be obtained either by purchase or by correspondence with
others whom I found to be pursuing investigations in the same
direction. 

A translation of Geber's "De Claritate Alchemiae," by chance came
into my possession, and afterwards an original version from the
Latin of Boerhaave's "Elementa Chemix," published and translated in
1753 by Peter Shaw. This magnificent production threw a flood of
light upon the early history of chemistry, being far more elaborate
than any modern work.

It inspired me with the deepest regard for its talented author, and
ultimately introduced me to a brotherhood of adepts, for in this
publication, although its author disclaims occultism, is to be
found a talisman that will enable any earnest searcher after light
to become a member of the society of secret "Chemical Improvers of
Natural Philosophy," with which I affiliated as soon as the key was
discovered.

Then followed a systematic investigation of authorities of the
Alchemical School, including Geber, Morienus, Roger Bacon, George
Ripley, Raymond bully, Bernard, Count of Trevise, Isaac Hollandus,
Arnoldus de la Villanova, Paracelsus, and others, not omitting the
learned researches of the distinguished scientist, Llewellyn.

I discovered that many talented men are still firm believers in the
lost art of alchemy, and that among the followers of the
"thrice-famed Hermes are to be found statesmen, clergymen, lawyers,
and scientific men who, for various reasons, invariably conceal
with great tact their connection with the fraternity of adepts. 

Some of these men had written scientific treatises of a very
different character from those circulating among the members of our
brotherhood, and to their materialistic readers it would seem
scarcely possible that the authors could be tainted with
hallucinations of any description, while others, conspicuous
leaders in the church, were seemingly beyond occult temptation.

The larger number, it was evident, hoped by studies of the works of
the alchemists, to find the key to the alkahest of Van Helmont,
that is, to discover the Philosopher's Stone, or the Elixir of
Life, and from their writings it is plain that the inner
consciousness of thoughtful and scientific men rebelled against
confinement to the narrow bounds of materialistic science, within
which they were forced to appear as dogmatic pessimists.

To them scientific orthodoxy, acting as a weight, prohibited
intellectual speculation, as rank heresy. A few of my co-laborers
were expert manipulators, and worked experimentally, following in
their laboratories the suggestions of those gifted students who had
pored over precious old manuscripts, and had attempted to solve the
enigmatical formulas recorded therein, puzzles familiar to students
of Hermetic lore.

It was thus demonstrated, - for what I have related is history, -
that in this nineteenth century there exists a fraternity, the
members of which are as earnest in their belief in the truth of
Esoteric philosophy, as were the followers of Hermes himself;
savants who, in secret, circulate among themselves a literature
that the materialism of this selfsame nineteenth century has
relegated to the deluded and murky periods that produced it.

One day a postal package came to my address, this being the manner
in which some of our literature circulated, which, on examination,
I found to be a letter of instruction and advice from some unknown
member of our circle. I was already becoming disheartened over the
mental confusion into which my studies were leading me, and the
contents of the letter, in which I was greatly interested, made a
lasting impression upon me.

It seemed to have been circulating a long time among our members in
Europe and America, for it bore numerous marginal notes of various
dates, but each and every one of its readers had for one reason or
another declined the task therein suggested. From the substance of
the paper, which, written exquisitely, yet partook of the ambiguous
alchemistic style, it was evident that the author was well versed
in alchemy, and, in order that my position may be clearly
understood at this turning point in a life of remarkable adventure,
the letter is appended in full: 

THE ALCHEMISTIC LETTER. TO THE BROTHER ADEPT WHO DARES TRY TO
DISCOVER ZOROASTER'S CAVE, OR THE PHILOSOPHERS' INTELLECTUAL
ECHOES, BY MEANS OF WHICH THEY COMMUNICATE TO ONE ANOTHER FROM
THEIR CAVES. 

Know thou, that Hermes Trismegistus did not originate, but he gave
to our philosophy his name - the Hermetic Art. Evolved in a dim,
mystic age, before antiquity began, it endured through the slowly
rolling cycles to be bandied about by the ever-ready flippancy of
nineteenth century students. It has lived, because it is endowed
with that quality which never dies - truth. Modern philosophy, of
which chemistry is but a fragment, draws its sustenance from the
prime facts which were revealed in ancient Egypt through Hermetic
thought, and fixed by the Hermetic stylus. 

"The Hermetic allegories," so various in interpretable
susceptibility, led subsequent thinkers into speculations and
experimentations, which have resulted profitably to the world. It
is not strange that some of the followers of Hermes, especially the
more mercurial and imaginative, should have evolved nebulous
theories, no longer explainable, and involving recondite spiritual
considerations. Know thou that the ultimate on psychochemical
investigation is the proximate of the infinite.

Accordingly, a class came to believe that a projection of natural
mental faculties into an advanced state of consciousness called the
"wisdom faculty" constitutes the final possibility of Alchemy. The
attainment of this exalted condition is still believed practicable
by many earnest savants. Once on this lofty plane, the individual
would not be trammelled by material obstacles, but would abide in
that spiritual placidity which is the exquisite realization of
mortal perfection.

So exalted, he would be in naked parallelism with Omniscience, and
through his illuminated understanding, could feast his soul on
those exalted pleasures which are only less than deific.
Notwithstanding the exploitings of a number of these philosophers,
in which, by reason of our inability to comprehend, sense seemed
lost in a passage of incohesive dreamery and resonancy of
terminology, some of the purest spiritual researches the world has
ever known, were made in the dawn of history.

The much abused alchemical philosophers existed upon a plane, in
some respects above the level of the science of to-day. Many of
them lived for the good of the world only, in an atmosphere above
the materialistic hordes that people the world, and toiling over
their crucibles and alembics, died in their cells "uttering no
voice."

Take, for example, Firenaeus Philalethes, who, bore in 1623, lived
contemporaneously with Robert Boyle. A fragment from his writings
will illustrate the purpose which impelled the searcher for the
true light of alchemy to record his discoveries in allegories, and
we have no right to question the honesty of his utterances: "The
Searcher of all hearts knows that I write the truth; nor is there
any cause to accuse me of envy. I write with an unterrified quill
in an unheard of style, to the honor of God, to the profit of my
neighbors, with contempt of the world and its riches, because
Elias, the artist, is already born, and now glorious things are
declared of the city of God.

I dare affirm that I do possess more riches than the whole known
world is worth, but I can not make use of it because of the snares
of knaves. I disdain, loathe, and detest the idolizing of silver
and gold, by which the pomps and vanities of the world are
celebrated. Ah! Filthy evil! Ah! vain nothingness! Believe ye that
I conceal the art out of envy? No, verily, I protest to you; I
grieve from the very bottom of my soul that we (alchemists) are
driven like vagabonds from the face of the Lord throughout the
earth. 

But what need of many words? The thing that we have seen, taught,
and made, which we have, possess, and know, that we do declare;
being moved with compassion for the studious, and with indignation
of gold, silver, and precious stones. Believe me, the time is at
the door, I feel it in spirit, when we, adeptists, shall return
from the four corners of the earth, nor shall we fear any snares
that are laid against our lives, but we shall give thanks to the
Lord our God.

I would to God that every ingenious man in the whole earth
understood this science; then it would be valued only for its
wisdom, and virtue only would be had in honor." Of course there was
a more worldly class, and a large contingent of mercenary impostors
(as science is always encumbered), parasites, whose animus was
shamefully unlike the purity of true esoteric psychologists.

These men devoted their lives to experimentation for selfish
advancement. They constructed alchemical outfits, and carried on a
ceaseless inquiry into the nature of solvents, and studied their
influences on earthly bodies, their ultimate object being the
discovery of the Philosopher's Stone, and the alkahest which
Boerhaave asserts was never discovered.

Their records were often a verbose melange, purposely so written,
no doubt, to cover their tracks, and to make themselves
conspicuous. Other Hermetic believers occupied a more elevated
position, and connected the intellectual with the material, hoping
to gain by their philosophy and science not only gold and silver,
which were secondary considerations, but the highest literary
achievement, the Magnum Opus.

Others still sought to draw from Astrology and Magic the secrets
that would lead them to their ambitious goal. Thus there were
degrees of fineness in a fraternity, which the science of to-day
must recognize and admit. Boerhaave, the illustrious, respected
Geber, of the alchemistic school, and none need feel compromised in
admiring the talented alchemists who, like Geber, wrought in the
twilight of morn for the coming world's good.

We are now enjoying a fragment of the ultimate results of their
genius and industry in the materialistic outcomes of present-day
chemistry, to be followed by others more valuable; and at last,
when mankind is ripe in the wisdom faculty, by spiritual
contentment in the complacent furtherings beyond.

Allow me briefly to refer to a few men of the alchemistic type
whose records may be considered with advantage. Rhasis, a
conspicuous alchemist, born in 850, first mentioned orpiment,
borax, compounds of iron, copper, arsenic, and other similar
substances. It is said, too, that he discovered the art of making
brandy.

About a century later, Alfarabe (killed in 950), a great alchemist,
astonished the King of Syria with his profound learning, and
excited the admiration of the wise men of the East by his varied
accomplishments. Later, Albertus Magnus (born 1205), noted for his
talent and skill, believed firmly in the doctrine of transmutation.

His beloved pupil, Thomas Aquinas, gave us the word amalgam, and it
still serves us. Contemporaneously with these lived Roger Bacon
(born 1214), who was a man of most extraordinary ability. There has
never been a greater English intellect (not excepting his
illustrious namesake, Lord Bacon), and his penetrating mind delved
deeper into nature's laws than that of any successor. 

He told us of facts concerning the sciences, that scientific men
can not fully comprehend to-day; he told us of other things that
lie beyond the science provings of today, that modern philosophers
can not grasp. He was an enthusiastic believer in the Hermetic
philosophy, and such were his erudition and advanced views, that
his brother friars, through jealousy and superstition, had him
thrown into prison - a common fate to men who in those days dared
to think ahead of their age.

Despite (as some would say) of his mighty reasoning power and
splendid attainments, he believed the Philosopher's Stone to be a
reality; he believed the secret of indefinite prolongation of life
abode in alchemy; that the future could be predicted by means of a
mirror which he called Almuchese, and that by alchemy an adept
could produce pure gold.

He asserted that by means of Aristotle's "Secret of Secrets,"pure
gold can be made; gold even purer and finer than what men now know
as gold. In connection with other predictions he made an assertion
that may with other seemingly unreasonable predictions be verified
in time to come. He said: "It is equally possible to construct cars
which may be set in motion with marvelous rapidity, independently
of horses or other animals." 

He declared that the ancients had done this, and he believed the
art might be revived. Following came various enthusiasts, such as
Raymond, the ephemeral (died 1315), who flared like a meteor into
his brief, brilliant career; Arnold de Villanova (1240), a
celebrated adept, whose books were burned by the Inquisition on
account of the heresy they taught; Nicholas Flamel, of France
(1350), loved by the people for his charities, the wonder of his
age (our age will not admit the facts) on account of the vast
fortune he amassed without visible means or income, outside of
alchemical lore; Johannes de Rupecissus, a man of such remarkable
daring that he even (1357) reprimanded Pope Innocent VI., for which
he was promptly imprisoned; Basil Valentine (1410) he author of
many works, and the man who introduced antimony (antimonaches) into
medicine; Isaac of Holland who, with his son, skillfully made
artificial gems that could not be distinguished from the natural;
Bernard Trevison (born 1406), who spent $30,000 in the study of
alchemy, out of much of which he was cheated by cruel alchemic
pretenders, for even in that day there were plenty of rogues to
counterfeit a good thing. 

Under stress of his strong alchemic convictions, Thomas Dalton
placed his head on the block by order of the virtuous (?) and
conservative Thomas Herbert, 'squire to King Edward; Jacob Bohme
(born 1575), the sweet, pure spirit of Christian mysticism, "The
Voice of Heaven,"than whom none stood higher in true alchemy, was
a Christian, alchemist, theosophist; Robert Boyle, a conspicuous
alchemical philosopher, in 1662 published his "Defense of the
Doctrine touching the Spring and Weight of the Air," and
illustrated his arguments by a series of ingenious and beautiful
experiments, that stand today so high in the estimation of
scientific men, that his remarks are copied verbatim by our highest
authorities, and his apparatus is the best yet devised for the
purpose.

Boyle's "Law "was evolved and carefully defined fourteen years
before Mariotte's "Discours de la Nature de l'Air" appeared, which
did not, however, prevent French and German scientific men from
giving the credit to Mariotte, and they still follow the false
teacher who boldly pirated not only Boyle's ideas, but stole his
apparatus.

Then appeared such men as Paracelsus (born 1493), the celebrated
physician, who taught that occultism (esoteric philosophy) was
superior to experimental chemistry in enlightening us concerning
the transmutation of baser metals into gold and silver; and Gueppo
Francisco (born 1627), who wrote a beautiful treatise on
"Elementary Spirits," which was copied without credit by Compte de
Gabalis. 

It seems incredible that the man (Gueppo Francisco), whose sweet
spirit-thoughts are revivified and breathe anew in "Undine "and
"The Rape of the Lock," should have been thrown into a prison to
perish as a Hermetic follower; and this should teach us not to
question the earnestness of those who left us as a legacy the
beauty and truth so abundantly found in pure alchemy.

These and many others, cotemporaries, some conspicuous, and others
whose names do not shine in written history, contributed
incalculably to the grand aggregate of knowledge concerning the
divine secret which enriched the world. Compare the benefits of
Hermetic philosophy with the result of bloody wars ambitiously
waged by self-exacting tyrants - tyrants whom history applauds as
heroes, but whom we consider as butchers.

Among the workers in alchemy are enumerated nobles, kings, and even
popes. Pope John XXII was an alchemist, which accounts for his bull
against impostors, promulgated in order that true students might
not be discredited; and King Frederick of Naples sanctioned the
art, and protected its devotees. At last, Count Cagliostro, the
chequered "Joseph Balsamo " (born 1743), who combined alchemy,
magic, astrology, sleight of hand, mesmerism, Free Masonry, and
remarkable personal accomplishments, that altogether have never
since been equalled, burst upon the world.

Focusing the gaze of the church, kings, and the commons upon
himself, in many respects the most audacious pretender that history
records, he raised the Hermetic art to a dazzling height, and
finally buried it in a blaze of splendor as he passed from
existence beneath a mantle of shame.

As a meteor streams into view from out the star mists of space, and
in corruscating glory sinks into the sea, Cagliostro blazed into
the sky of the eighteenth century, from the nebula of alchemistic
speculation, and extinguished both himself and his science in the
light of the rising sun of materialism.

Cagliostro the visionary, the poet, the inspired, the erratic comet
in the universe of intellect, perished in prison as a mountebank,
and then the plodding chemist of today, with his tedious mechanical
methods, and cold, unresponsive, materialistic dogmas, arose from
the ashes, and sprang into prominence.

Read the story backward, and you shall see that in alchemy we
behold the beginning of all the sciences of today; alchemy is the
cradle that rocked them. Fostered with necromancy, astrology,
occultism, and all the progeny of mystic dreamery, the infant
sciences struggled for existence through the dark ages, in care of
the once persecuted and now traducers alchemist.

The world owes a monument today more to Hermetic heroes, than to
all other influences and instrumentalities, religion excepted,
combined, for our present civilization is largely a legacy from the
alchemist. Begin with Hermes Trismegistus, and close with Joseph
Balsanto, and if you are inclined towards science, do not criticise
too severely their verbal logorrhea, and their romanticism, for
your science is treading backward; it will encroach upon their
field again, and you may have to unsay your words of hasty censure.

These men fulfilled their mission, and did it well. If they told
more than men now think they knew, they also knew more than they
told, and more than modern philosophy embraces. They could not live
to see all the future they eagerly hoped for, but they started a
future for mankind that will far exceed in sweetness and light the
most entrancing visions of their most imaginative dreamers.

They spoke of the existence of a "red elixir;" and while they
wrote, the barbarous world about them ran red with blood, - blood
of the pure in heart, blood of the saints, blood of a Saviour; and
their allegory and wisdom formulae were recorded in blood of their
own sacrifices.

They dreamed of a "white elixir "that is yet to bless mankind, and
a brighter day for man, a period of peace, happiness, long life,
contentment, good will and brotherly love, and in the name of this
"white elixir" they directed the world towards a vision of divine
light. Even pure gold, as they told the materialistic world who
worship gold, was penetrated and whelmed by this subtle,
superlatively refined spirit of matter. Is not the day of the
allegorical "white elixir" nearly at hand? Would that it were!

I say to you now, brothers of the eighteenth century, as one
speaking by authority to you, cease (some of you) to study this
entrancing past, look to the future by grasping the present, cast
aside (some of you) the alchemical lore of other days, give up your
loved allegories; it is a duty, you must relinquish them.

There is a richer field. Do not delay. Unlock this mystic door that
stands hinged and ready, waiting the touch of men who can interpret
the talisman; place before mankind the knowledge that lies behind
its rivets.

In the secret lodges that have preserved the wisdom of the days of
Enoch and Elias of Egypt, who propagated the Egyptian Order, a
branch of your ancient brotherhood, is to be found concealed much
knowledge that should now be spread before the world, and added to
the treasures of our circle of adepts. This cabalistic wisdom is
not recorded in books nor in manuscript, but has been purposely
preserved from the uninitiated, in the unreadable brains of
unresponsive men.

Those who are selected to act as carriers thereof, are, as a rule,
like dumb water bearers, or the dead sheet of paper that
mechanically preserves an inspiration derived from minds unseen:
they serve a purpose as a child mechanically commits to memory a
black verse to repeat to others, who in turn commit to repeat again
- neither of them speaking understandingly.

Search ye these hidden paths, for the day of mental liberation
approaches, and publish to the world all that is locked within the
doors of that antiquated organization. The world is nearly ripe for
the wisdom faculty, and men are ready to unravel the golden threads
that mystic wisdom has inwoven in her web of secret knowledge.

Look for knowledge where I have indicated, and to gain it do not
hesitate to swear allegiance to this sacred order, for so you must
do to gain entrance to the brotherhood, and then you must act what
men will call the traitor. You will, however, be doing a sacred
duty, for the world will profit, humanity will be the gainer,
"Peace on Earth, Good Will to Man," will be closer to mankind, and
at last, when the sign appears, the "white elixir" will no longer
be allegorical; it will become a reality.

In the name of the Great Mystic Vase-Man, go thou into these
lodges, learn of their secrets, and spread their treasures before
those who can interpret them.

Here this letter ended. It was evident that the writer referred to
a secret society into which I could probably enter; and taking the
advice, I did not hesitate, but applied at once for membership. I
determined, regardless of consequence, to follow the suggestion of
the unknown writer, and by so doing, for I accepted their pledges,
I invited my destiny.

My guest of the massive forehead paused for a moment, stroked his
long, white beard, and then, after casting an inquiring glance on
me, asked, "Shall I read on?" "Yes," I replied, and
The-Man-Who-Did-It, proceeded as follows


CHAPTER V. 
THE WRITING OF MY CONFESSION.

Having become a member of the Secret Society as directed by the
writer of the letter I have just read, and having obtained the
secrets hinted at in the mystic directions, my next desire was to
find a secluded spot where, without interruption, I could prepare
for publication what I had gathered surreptitiously in the lodges
of the fraternity I designed to betray.

This I entitled "My Confession." Alas! Why did my evil genius
prompt me to write it? Why did not some kind angel withhold my hand
from the rash and wicked deed? All I can urge in defense or
palliation is that I was infatuated by the fatal words of the
letter, "You must act what men will call the traitor, but humanity
will be the gainer."

In a section of the state in which I resided, a certain creek forms
the boundary line between two townships, and also between two
counties. Crossing this creek, a much traveled road stretches east
and west, uniting the extremes of the great state. Two villages on
this road, about four miles apart, situated on opposite sides of
the creek, also present themselves to my memory, and midway between
them, on the north side of the road, was a substantial farm house. 

In going west from the easternmost of these villages, the traveler
begins to descend from the very center of the town. In no place is
the grade steep, as the road lies between the spurs of the hill
abutting upon the valley that feeds the creek I have mentioned. 

Having reached the valley, the road winds a short distance to the
right, then turning to the left, crosses the stream, and
immediately begins to climb the western hill; here the ascent is
more difficult, for the road lies diagonally over the edge of the
hill. A mile of travel, as I recall the scene, sometimes up a
steep, and again among rich, level farm lands, and then on the very
height, close to the road, within a few feet of it, appears the
square structure which was, at the tune I mention, known as the
Stone Tavern.

On the opposite side of the road were located extensive stables,
and a grain barn. In the northeast chamber of that stone building,
during a summer in the twenties, I wrote for publication the
description of the mystic work that my oath should have made
forever a secret, a sacred trust. I am the man who wantonly
committed the deplorable act. Under the infatuation of that
alchemical manuscript, I strove to show the world that I could and
would do that which might never benefit me in the least, but might
serve humanity.

It was fate. I was not a bad man, neither malignity, avarice, nor
ambition forming a part of my nature. I was a close student, of a
rather retiring disposition, a stone-mason by trade, careless and
indifferent to public honors, and so thriftless that many trifling
neighborhood debts had accumulated against me.

What I have reluctantly told, for I am forbidden to give the names
of the localities, comprises an abstract of part of the record of
my early life, and will introduce the extraordinary narrative which
follows. That I have spoken the truth, and in no manner overdrawn,
will be silently evidenced by hundreds of brethren, both of the
occult society and the fraternal brotherhood, with which I united,
who can (if they will) testify to the accuracy of the narrative. 

They know the story of my crime and disgrace; only myself and God
know the full retribution that followed.


CHAPTER VI. KIDNAPPED.

The events just narrated occurred in the prime of my life, and are
partly matters of publicity. My attempted breach of faith in the
way of disclosing their secrets was naturally infamous in the eyes
of my society brethren, who endeavored to prevail upon me to relent
of my design which, after writing my " Confession,"I made no
endeavor to conceal.

Their importunities and threatenings had generally been resisted,
however, and with an obliquity that can not be easily explained, I
persisted in my unreasonable design. I was blessed as a husband and
father, but neither the thought of home, wife, nor child, checked
me in my inexplicable course. I was certainly irresponsible,
perhaps a monomaniac, and yet in the subject in which I was
absorbed, I preserved my mental equipoise, and knowingly followed
a course that finally brought me into the deepest slough of
trouble, and lost to me forever all that man loves most dearly.

An overruling spirit, perhaps the shade of one of the old
alchemists, possessed me, and in the face of obstacles that would
have caused most men to reflect, and retrace their steps, I madly
rushed onward. The influence that impelled me, whatever it may have
been, was irresistible. I apparently acted the part of agent,
subject to an ever-present master essence, and under this
dominating spirit or demon my mind was powerless in its subjection.

My soul was driven imperiously by that impelling and rode cribable
something, and was as passive and irresponsible as lycopodium that
is borne onward in a steady current of air. Methods were vainly
sought by those who loved me, brethren of the lodge, and others who
endeavored to induce me to change my headstrong purpose, but I
could neither accept their counsels nor heed their forebodings. 

Summons by law were served on me in order to disconcert me, and my
numerous small debts became the pretext for legal warrants, until
at last all my papers (excepting my "Confession"), and my person
also, were seized, upon an execution served by a constable. Minor
claims were quickly satisfied, but when I regained my liberty, the
aggression continued. Even arson was resorted to, and the printing
office that held my manuscript was fired one night, that the
obnoxious revelation which I persisted in putting into print, might
be destroyed.

Finally I found myself separated by process of law from home and
friends, an inmate of a jail. My opponents, as I now came to
consider them, had confined me in prison for a debt of only two
dollars, a sufficient amount at that time, in that state, for my
incarceration. Smarting under the humiliation, my spirit became
still more rebellious, and I now, perhaps justly, came to view
myself as a martyr.

It had been at first asserted that I had stolen a shirt, but I was
not afraid of any penalty that could be laid on me for this
trumped-up charge, believing that the imputation and the arrest
would be shown to be designed as willful oppression. Therefore it
was, that when this contemptible arraignment had been swept aside,
and I was freed before a justice of the Peace, I experienced more
than a little surprise at a rearrest, and at finding myself again
thrown into jail. 

I knew that it had been decreed by my brethren that I must retract
and destroy my "Confession," and this fact made me the more
determined to prevent its destruction, and I persisted sullenly in
pursuing my coarse. On the evening of August 12th, 1826, my
jailer's wife informed me that the debt for which I had been
incarcerated had been paid by unknown "friends," and that I could
depart; and I accepted the statement without question. 

Upon my stepping from the door of the jail, however, my arms were
firmly grasped by two persons, one on each side of me, and before
I could realize the fact that I was being kidnapped, I was thrust
into a closed coach, which immediately rolled away, but not until
I made an outcry which, if heard by anyone, was unheeded. "For your
own sake, be quiet," said one of my companions in confinement, for
the carriage was draped to exclude the light, and was as dark as a
dungeon.

My spirit rebelled; I felt that I was on the brink of a remarkable,
perhaps perilous experience, and I indignantly replied by asking:
"What have I done that you should presume forcibly to imprison me?
Am I not a freeman of America?" "What have you done?" he answered.
"Have you not bound yourself by a series of vows that are sacred
and should be inviolable, and have you not broken them as no other
man has done before you? Have you not betrayed your trust, and
merited a severe judgment? Did you not voluntarily ask admission
into our ancient brotherhood, and in good faith were you not
initiated into our sacred mysteries? Did you not obligate yourself
before man, and on your sacred honor promise to preserve our
secrets?"

"I did," I replied; "but previously I had sworn before a higher
tribunal to scatter this precious wisdom to the world." "Yes," he
said, "and you know full well the depth of the self-sought solemn
oath that you took with us - more solemn than that prescribed by
any open court on earth." "This I do not deny," I said, "and yet I
am glad that I accomplished my object, even though you have now, as
is evident, the power to pronounce my sentence."

"You should look for the death sentence," was the reply, "but it
has been ordained instead that you are to be given a lengthened
life. You should expect bodily destruction; but on the contrary,
you will pass on in consciousness of earth and earthly concerns
when we are gone. Your name will be known to all lands, and yet
from this time you will be unknown.

For the welfare of future humanity, you will be thrust to a height
in our order that will annihilate you as a mortal being, and yet
you will exist, suspended between life and death, and in that
intermediate state will know that you exist. You have, as you
confess, merited a severe punishment, but we can only punish in
accordance with an unwritten law, that instructs the person
punished, and elevates the human race in consequence.

You stand alone among mortals in that you have openly attempted to
give broadly to those who have not earned it, our most sacred
property, a property that did not belong to you, property that you
have only been permitted to handle, that has been handed from man
to man from before the time of Solomon, and which belongs to no one
man, and will continue to pass in this way from one to another, as
a hallowed trust, until there are no men, as men now exist, to
receive it.

You will soon go into the shadows of darkness, and will learn many
of the mysteries of life, the undeveloped mysteries that are
withheld from your fellows, but which you, who have been so
presumptuous and anxious for knowledge, are destined to possess and
solve. You will find secrets that man, as man is now constituted,
can not yet discover, and yet which the future man must gain and be
instructed in.

As you have sowed, so shall you reap. You wished to become a
distributor of knowledge; you shall now by bodily trial and mental
suffering obtain unsought knowledge to distribute, and in time to
come you will be commanded to make your discoveries known. As your
pathway is surely laid out, so must you walk. It is ordained; to
rebel is useless."

"Who has pronounced this sentence?" I asked. "A judge, neither of
heaven nor of earth." "You speak in enigmas." "No; I speak openly,
and the truth. Our brotherhood is linked with the past, and clasps
hands with the antediluvians; the flood scattered the races of
earth, but did not disturb our secrets. The great love of wisdom
has from generation to generation led selected members of our
organization to depths of study that our open work does not touch
upon, and behind our highest officers there stand, in the occult
shades between the here and the hereafter, unknown and unseen
agents who are initiated into secrets above and beyond those known
to the ordinary craft.

Those who are introduced into these inner recesses acquire
superhuman conceptions, and do not give an open sign of fellowship;
they need no talisman. They walk our streets possessed of powers
unknown to men, they concern themselves as mortals in the affairs
of men, and even their brethren of the initiated, open order are
unaware of their exalted condition.

The means by which they have been instructed, their several
individualities as well, have been concealed, because publicity
would destroy their value, and injure humanity's cause." Silence
followed these vague disclosures, and the carriage rolled on. I was
mystified and alarmed, and yet I knew that, whatever might be the
end of this nocturnal ride, I had invited it - yes, merited it -
and I steeled myself to hear the sentence of my judges, in whose
hands I was powerless.

The persons on the seat opposite me continued their conversation in
low tones, audible only to themselves. An individual by my side
neither moved nor spoke. There were four of us in the carriage, as
I learned intuitively, although we were surrounded by utter
darkness. At length I addressed the companion beside me, for the
silence was unbearable. Friend or enemy though he might be,
anything rather than this long silence. "How long shall we continue
in this carriage?" He made no reply. After a time I again spoke. 

"Can you not tell me, comrade, how long our journey will last? When
shall we reach our destination?" Silence only. Putting out my hand,
I ventured to touch my mate, and found that he was tightly
strapped, - bound upright to the seat and the back of the carriage.

Leather thongs held him firmly in position; and as I pondered over
the mystery, I thought to myself, if I make a disturbance, they
will not hesitate to manacle me as securely. My custodians seemed,
however, not to exercise a guard over me, and yet I felt that they
were certain of my inability to escape. If the man on the seat was
a prisoner, why was he so reticent? Why did he not answer my
questions?

I came to the conclusion that he must be gagged as well as bound.
Then I determined to find out if this were so. I began to realize
more forcibly that a terrible sentence must have been meted me, and
I half hoped that I could get from my partner in captivity some
information regarding our destination. Sliding my hand cautiously
along his chest, and under his chin, I intended to remove the gag
from his mouth, when I felt my flesh creep, for it came in contact
with the cold, rigid flesh of a corpse.

The man was dead, and stiff. The shock unnerved me. I had begun to
experience the results of a severe mental strain, partly induced by
the recent imprisonment and extended previous persecution, and
partly by the mysterious significance of the language in which I
had recently been addressed. The sentence, "You will now go into
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and learn the mysteries of
life," kept ringing through my head, and even then I sat beside a
corpse.

After this discovery I remained for a time in a semistupor, in a
state of profound dejection, - how long I can not say. Then I
experienced an inexplicable change, such as I imagine comes over a
condemned man without hope of reprieve, and I became unconcerned as
a man might who had accepted his destiny, and stoically determined
to await it. Perhaps moments passed, it may have been hours, and
then indifference gave place to reviving curiosity.

I realized that I could die only once, and I cooly and complacently
revolved the matter, speculating over my possible fate. As I look
back on the night in which I rode beside that dead man, facing the
mysterious agents of an all-powerful judge, I marvel over a mental
condition that permitted me finally to rest in peace, and slumber
in unconcern.

So I did, however, and after a period, the length of which I am not
able to estimate, I awoke, and soon thereafter the carriage
stopped, and our horses were changed, after which our journey was
resumed, to continue hour after hour, and at last I slept again,
leaning back in the corner. Suddenly I was violently shaken from
slumber, and commanded to alight. It was in the gray of morning,
and before I could realize what was happening, I was transferred by
my captors to another carriage, and the dead man also was rudely
hustled along and thrust beside me, my companions speaking to him
as though he were alive.

Indeed, as I look back on these maneuvers, I perceive that, to all
appearances, I was one of the abducting party, and our actions were
really such as to induce an observer to believe that this dead man
was an obstinate prisoner, and myself one of his official guards.
The drivers of the carriages seemed to give us no attention, but
they sat upright and unconcerned, and certainly neither of them
interested himself in our transfer.

The second carriage, like that other previously described, was
securely closed, and our journey was continued. The darkness was as
of a dungeon. It may have been days, I could not tell anything
about the passage of time; on and on we rode. Occasionally food and
drink mere handed in, but my captors held to their course, and at
last I was taken from the vehicle, and transferred to a
block-house.

I had been carried rapidly and in secret a hundred or more miles,
perhaps into another state, and probably all traces of my journey
were effectually lost to outsiders. I was in the hands of men who
implicitly obeyed the orders of their superiors, masters whom they
had never seen, and probably did not know. I needed no reminder of
the fact that I had violated every sacred pledge voluntarily made
to the craft, and now that they held me powerless, I well knew
that, whatever the punishment assigned, I had invited it, and could
not prevent its fulfillment.

That it would be severe, I realized; that it would not be in
accordance with ordinary human law, I accepted. Had I not in
secret, in my little room in that obscure Stone Tavern, engrossed
on paper the mystic sentences that never before had been penned and
were unknown excepting to persons initiated into our sacred
mysteries? Had I not previously, in the most solemn manner, before
these words had been imparted to my keeping, sworn to keep them
inviolate and secret? And had I not deliberately broken that sacred
vow, and scattered the hoarded sentences broadcast?

My part as a brother in this fraternal organization was that of the
holder only of property that belonged to no man, that had been
handed from one to another through the ages, sacredly cherished,
and faithfully protected by men of many tongues, always considered
a trust, a charge of honor, and never before betrayed. My crime was
deep and dark. I shuddered. "Come what may," I mused, reflecting
over my perfidy, "I am ready for the penalty, and my fate is
deserved; it can not but be a righteous one."

The words of the occupant of the carriage occurred to me again and
again; that one sentence kept ringing in my brain; I could not
dismiss it: "You have been tried, convicted, and we are of those
appointed to carry out the sentence of the judges." The black
silence of my lonely cell beat against me; I could feel the absence
of sound, I could feel the dismal weight of nothingness, and in my
solitude and distraction I cried out in anguish to the invisible
judge: "I am ready for my sentence, whether it be death or
imprisonment for life"; and still the further words of the occupant
of the carriage passed through my mind: "You will now go into the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and will learn the mysteries of
Life."

Then I slept, to awake and sleep again. I kept no note of time; it
may have been days or weeks, so far as my record could determine.
An attendant came at intervals to minister to my wants, always
masked completely, ever silent. That I was not entirely separated
from mankind, however, I felt assured, for occasionally sounds of
voices came to me front without. Once I ventured to shout aloud,
hoping to attract attention; but the persons whom I felt assured
overheard me, paid no attention to my lonely cry.

At last one night, my door opened abruptly, and three men entered.
"Do not fear," said their spokesman, "we aim to protect you; keep
still, and soon you will be a free man." I consented quietly to
accompany them, for to refuse would have been in vain; and I was
conducted to a boat, which I found contained a corpse - the one I
had journeyed with, I suppose - and embarking, we were silently
rowed to the middle of the river, our course being diagonally from
the shore, and the dead man was thrown overboard.

Then our boat returned to the desolate bank. Thrusting me into a
carriage, that, on our return to the river bank we found awaiting
us, my captors gave a signal, and I was driven away in the
darkness, as silently as before, and our journey was continued I
believe for fully two days. I was again confined in another log
cabin, with but one door, and destitute of windows. My attendants
were masked, they neither spoke to me as they day after day
supplied my wants, nor did they give me the least information on
any subject, until at last I abandoned all hope of ever regaining
my liberty.


CHAPTER VII. 
A WILD NIGHT. - I AM PREMATURELY AGED.

In the depths of night I was awakened by a noise made by the
opening of a door, and one by one seven masked figures silently
stalked into my prison. Each bore a lighted torch, and they passed
me as I lay on the floor in my clothes (for I had no bedding), and
ranged themselves in a line. I arose, and seated myself as directed
to do, upon the only stool in the room. Swinging into a
semi-circle, the weird line wound about me, and from the one seat
on which I rested in the center of the room, I gazed successively
upon seven pairs of gleaming eyes, each pair directed at myself;
and as I turned from one to another, the black cowl of each
deepened into darkness, and grew more hideous.

"Men or devils," I cried, "do your worst! Make me, if such is your
will, as that sunken corpse beside which I was once seated; but
cease your persecutions. I have atoned for my indiscretions a
thousand fold, and this suspense is unbearable; I demand to know
what is to be my doom, and I desire its fulfilment."

Then one stepped forward, facing me squarely, - the others closed
together around him and me. Raising his forefinger, he pointed it
close to my face, and as his sharp eyes glittered from behind the
black mask, piercing through me, he slowly said: "Why do you not
say brothers?" "Horrible," I rejoined; "stop this mockery. Have I
not suffered enough from your persecutions to make me reject that
word as applied to yourselves? You can but murder; do your duty to
your unseen masters, and end this prolonged torture!" 

"Brother," said the spokesman, "you well know that the sacred rules
of our order will not permit us to murder any human being. We exist
to benefit humanity, to lead the wayward back across the burning
desert into the pathways of the righteous; not to destroy or
persecute a brother. Ours is an eleemosynary institution,
instructing its members, helping them to seek happiness. You are
now expiating the crime you have committed, and the good in your
spirit rightfully revolts against the bad, for in divulging to the
world our mystic signs and brotherly greetings, you have sinned
against yourself more than against others.

The sting of conscience, the bitings of remorse punish you."
"True," I cried, as the full significance of what he said burst
upon me, "too true; but I bitterly repent my treachery. Others can
never know how my soul is harrowed by the recollection of the
enormity of that breach of confidence. In spite of my open,
careless, or defiant bearing, my heart is humble, and my spirit
cries out for mercy. By night and by day I have in secret cursed
myself for heeding an unhallowed mandate, and I have long looked
forward to the judgment that I should suffer for my perfidy, for I
have appreciated that the day of reckoning would surely appear.

I do not rebel, and I recall my wild language; I recant my
Confession, I renounce myself! I say to you in all sincerity,
brothers, do your duty, only I beg of you to slay me at once, and
end my suspense. I await my doom. What might it be?" Grasping my
hand, the leader said: "You are ready as a member of our order; we
can now judge you as we have been commanded; had you persisted in
calling us devils in your mistaken frenzy, we should have been
forced to reason with you until you returned again to us, and
became one of us.

Our judgment is for you only; the world must not now know its
nature, at least so far as we are concerned. Those you see here,
are not your judges; we are agents sent to labor with you, to draw
you back into our ranks, to bring you into a condition that will
enable you to carry out the sentence that you have drawn upon
yourself, for you must be your own doomsman.

In the first place, we are directed to gain your voluntary consent
to leave this locality. You can no longer take part in affairs that
interested you before. To the people of this State, and to your
home, and kindred, you must become a stranger for all time. Do you
consent?" "Yes," I answered, for I knew that I must acquiesce. "In
the next place, you must help us to remove all traces of your
identity. You must, so far as the world is concerned, leave your
body where you have apparently been drowned, for a world's benefit,
a harmless mockery to deceive the people, and also to make an
example for others that are weak. Are you ready?" "Yes." "Then
remove your clothing, and replace it with this suit."

I obeyed, and changed my garments, receiving others in return. One
of the party then, taking from beneath his gown a box containing
several bottles of liquids, proceeded artfully to mix and compound
them, and then to paint my face with the combination, which after
being mixed, formed a clear solution. "Do not fear to wash;" said
the spokesman, "the effect of this lotion is permanent enough to
stay until you are well out of this State."

I passed my hand over my face; it was drawn into wrinkles as a film
of gelatine might have been shrivelled under the influence of a
strong tannin or astringent liquid; beneath my fingers it felt like
the furrowed face of a very old man, but I experienced no pain. I
vainly tried to smooth the wrinkles; immediately upon removing the
pressure of my hand, the furrows reappeared.

Next, another applied a colorless liquid freely to my hair and
beard; he rubbed it well, and afterward wiped it dry with a towel.
A mirror was thrust beneath my gaze. I started back, the
transformation was complete. My appearance had entirely changed. My
face had become aged and wrinkled, my hair as white as snow. I
cried aloud in amazement: "Am I sane, is this a dream?" "It is not
a dream; but, under methods that are in exact accordance with
natural physiological laws, we have been enabled to transform your
appearance from that of one in the prime of manhood into the
semblance of an old man, and that, too, without impairment of your
vitality."

Another of the masked men opened a curious little casket that I
perceived was surmounted by an alembic and other alchemical
figures, and embossed with an Oriental design. He drew from it a
lamp which he lighted with a taper; the flame that resulted, first
pale blue, - then yellow, next violet and finally red, seemed to
become more weird and ghastly with each mutation, as I gazed
spellbound upon its fantastic changes. Then, after these
transformations, it burned steadily with the final strange
blood-red hue, and he now held over the blaze a tiny cup, which, in
a few moments, commenced to sputter and then smoked, exhaling a
curious, epipolic, semi-luminous vapor. I was commanded to inhale
the vapor.

I hesitated; the thought rushed upon me, "Now I am another person,
so cleverly disguised that even my own friends would perhaps not
know me, this vapor is designed to suffocate me, and my body, if
found, will not now be known, and could not be identified when
discovered." "Do not fear,"said the spokesman, as if divining my
thought, "there is no danger,"and at once I realized, by quick
reasoning, that if my death were demanded, my body might long since
have been easily destroyed, and all this ceremony would have been
unnecessary.

I hesitated no longer, but drew into my lungs the vapor that arose
from the mysterious cup, freely expanding my chest several times,
and then asked, "Is not that enough?" Despair now overcame me. My
voice, no longer the full, strong tone of a man in middle life and
perfect strength, squeaked and quavered, as if impaired by palsy. 

I had seen my image in a mirror, an old man with wrinkled face and
white hair; I now heard myself speak with the voice of an
octogenarian. "What have you done?" I cried. "We have obeyed your
orders; you told us you were ready to leave your own self here, and
the work is complete. The man who entered has disappeared. If you
should now stand in the streets of your village home, and cry to
your former friends, It is I, for whom you seek, they would smile,
and call you a madman.

"Know," continued the voice, "that there is in Eastern metaphysical
lore, more true philosophy than is embodied in the sciences of
to-day, and that by means of the ramifications of our order it
becomes possible, when necessary, for him who stands beyond the
inner and upper Worshipful Master, to draw these treasures from the
occult Wisdom possessions of Oriental sages who forget nothing and
lose nothing. Have we not been permitted to do his bidding well?" 

"Yes," I squeaked; "and I wish that you had done it better. I would
that I were dead." "When the time comes, if necessary, your dead
body will be fished from the water," was the reply; "witnesses have
seen the drowning tragedy, and will surely identify the corpse." 

"And may I go? am I free now?" I asked. "Ah," said he, "that is not
for us to say; our part of the work is fulfilled, and we can return
to our native lands, and resume again our several studies. So far
as we are concerned, you are free, but we have been directed to
pass you over to the keeping of others who will carry, forward this
judgment - there is another step."

"Tell me," I cried, once more desponding, "tell me the full extent
of my sentence." "That is not known to us, and probably is not
known to any one man. So far as the members of our order are
concerned, you have now vanished. When you leave our sight this
night, we will also separate from one another, we shall know no
more of you and your future than will those of our working order
who live in this section of the country. We have no personal
acquaintance with the guide that has been selected to conduct you
farther, and who will appear in due season, and we make no surmise
concerning the result of your journey, only we know that you will
not be killed, for you have a work to perform, and will continue to
exist long after others of your age are dead.

Farewell, brother; we have discharged our duty, and by your
consent, now we must return to our various pursuits. In a short
time all evidence of your unfortunate mistake, the crime committed
by you in printing our sacred charges, will have vanished. Even
now, emissaries are ordained to collect and destroy the written
record that tells of your weakness, and with the destruction of
that testimony, for every copy will surely be annihilated, and with
your disappearance from among men, for this also is to follow, our
responsibility for you will cease."

Each of the seven men advanced, and grasped my hand, giving me the
grip of brotherhood, and then, without a word, they severally and
silently departed into the outer darkness. As the last man
disappeared, a figure entered the door, clad and masked exactly
like those who had gone. He removed the long black gown in which he
was enveloped, threw the mask from his face and stood before me, a
slender, graceful, brightlooking young man.

By the light of the candle I saw him distinctly, and was at once
struck by his amiable, cheerful countenance, and my heart bounded
with a sudden hope. I had temporarily forgotten the transformation
that had been made in my person, which, altogether painless, had
left no physical sensation, and thought of myself as I had formerly
existed; my soul was still my own, I imagined; my blood seemed
unchanged, and must flow as rapidly as before; my strength was
unaltered, indeed I was in self-consciousness still in the prime of
life.

"Excuse me, Father," said the stranger, "but my services have been
sought as a guide for the first part of a journey that I am
informed you intend to take." His voice was mild and pleasant, his
bearing respectful, but the peculiar manner in which he spoke
convinced me that he knew that, as a guide, he must conduct me to
some previously designated spot, and that he purposed to do so was
evident, with or without my consent. "Why do you call me Father?"
I attempted to say, but as the first few words escaped my lips, the
recollection of the events of the night rushed upon me, for instead
of my own, I recognized the piping voice of the old man I had now
become, and my tongue faltered; the sentence was unspoken.

"You would ask me why I called you Father, I perceive; well,
because I am directed to be a son to you, to care for your wants,
to make your journey as easy and pleasant as possible, to guide you
quietly and carefully to the point that will next prove of interest
to you." I stood before him a free man, in the prime of life, full
of energy, and this stripling alone interposed between myself and
liberty. Should I permit the slender youth to carry me away as a
prisoner?

Would it not be best to thrust him aside, if necessary, crush him
to the earth? go forth in my freedom? Yet I hesitated, for he might
have friends outside; probably he was not alone. "There are no
companions near us, "said he, reading my mind, "and, as I do not
seem formidable, it is natural you should weigh in your mind the
probabilities of escape; but you can not evade your destiny, and
you must not attempt to deny yourself the pleasure of my company. 

You must leave this locality and leave without a regret. In order
that you may acquiesce willingly I propose that together we return
to your former home, which you will, however, find no longer to be
a home. I will accompany you as a companion, as your son. You may
speak, with one exception, to whomever you care to address; may
call on any of your old associates, may assert openly who you are,
or whatever and whoever you please to represent yourself, only I
must also have the privilege of joining in the conversation." 

"Agreed," I cried, and extended my hand; he grasped it, and then by
the light of the candle, I saw a peculiar expression flit over his
face, as he added: "To one person only, as I have said, and you
have promised, you must not speak - your wife." I bowed my head,
and a flood of sorrowful reflections swept over me. Of all the
world the one whom I longed to meet, to clasp in my arms, to
counsel in my distress, was the wife of my bosom, and I begged him
to withdraw his cruel injunction.

"You should have thought of her before; now it is too late. To
permit you to meet, and speak with her would be dangerous; she
might pierce your disguise. Of all others there is no fear." "Must
I go with you into an unknown future without a farewell kiss from
my little child or from my babe scarce three months old?" "It has
been so ordained." I threw myself on the floor and moaned. "This is
too hard, too hard for human heart to bear. Life has no charm to a
man who is thrust from all he holds most dear, home, friends,
family."

"The men who relinquish such pleasures and such comforts are those
who do the greatest good to humanity," said the youth. "The
multitude exist to propagate the, race, as animal progenitors of
the multitudes that are to follow, and the exceptional
philanthropist is he who denies himself material bliss, and
punishes himself in order to work out a problem such as it has been
ordained that you are to solve. Do not argue further the line is
marked, and you must walk direct."

Into the blaze of the old fireplace of that log house, for,
although it was autumn, the night was chilly, he then cast his
black robe and false face, and, as they turned to ashes, the last
evidences of the vivid acts through which I had passed, were
destroyed. As I lay moaning in my utter misery, I tried to reason
with myself that what I experienced was all a hallucination. I
dozed, and awoke startled, half conscious only, as one in a
nightmare; I said to, myself, "A dream! a dream!" and slept again. 


CHAPTER VIII.
A LESSON IN MIND STUDY.

The door of the cabin was open when I awoke, the sun shone
brightly, and my friend, apparently happy and unconcerned, said:
"Father, we must soon start on our journey; I have taken advantage
of your refreshing sleep, and have engaged breakfast at yonder
farm-house; our meal awaits us." 

I arose, washed my wrinkled face, combed my white hair, and
shuddered as I saw in a pocket mirror the reflection of my figure,
an aged, apparently decrepit man. "Do not be disturbed at your
feeble condition," said my companion; "your infirmities are not
real. Few men have ever been permitted to drink of the richness of
the revelations that await you; and in view of these expectations
the fact that you are prematurely aged in appearance should not
unnerve you.

Be of good heart, and when you say the word, we will start on our
journey, which will begin as soon as you have said farewell to
former friends and acquaintances." I made no reply, but silently
accompanied him, for my thoughts were in the past, and my
reflections were far from pleasant. We reached the farm-house, and
as I observed the care and attention extended me by the
pleasant-faced housewife, I realized that, in one respect at least,
old age brought its compensation.

After breakfast a man appeared from the farmer's barn, driving a
team of horses attached to an open spring-wagon which, in obedience
to the request of my guide, I entered, accompanied by my young
friend, who directed that we be driven toward the village from
which I had been abducted. He seemed to know my past life as I knew
it; he asked me to select those of my friends to whom I first
wished to bid farewell, even mentioning their names; he seemed all
that a patient, faithful son could be, and I began to wonder at his
audacity, even as much as I admired his self-confidence.

As we journeyed onward we engaged in familiar talk. We sat together
on the back seat of the open spring-wagon, in full sight of
passers, no attempt being made to conceal my person. Thus we
traveled for two days, and on our course we passed through a large
city with which I was acquainted, a city that my abductors had
previously carried me through and beyond.

I found that my "son" possessed fine conversational power, and a
rich mine of information, and he became increasingly interesting as
he drew from his fund of knowledge, and poured into my listening
ears an entrancing strain of historical and metaphysical
information. Never at a loss for a word or an idea, he appeared to
discern my cogitations, and as my mind wandered in this or that
direction he fell into the channel of my fancies, and answered my
unspoken thoughts, my mind-questions or meditations, as pertinently
as though I had spoken them.

His accomplishments, for the methods of his perception were
unaccompanied by any endeavor to draw me into word expression, made
me aware at least, that, in him, I had to deal with a man
unquestionably possessed of more than ordinary intellect and
education, and as this conviction entered my mind he changed his
subject and promptly answered the silent inquiry, speaking as
follows: "Have you not sometimes felt that in yourself there may
exist undeveloped senses that await an awakening touch to open to
yourself a new world, senses that may be fully developed, but which
saturate each other and neutralize themselves; quiescent, closed
circles which you can not reach, satisfied circuits slumbering
within your body and that defy your efforts to utilize them?

In your dreams have you not seen sights that words are inadequate
to describe, that your faculties can not retain in waking moments,
and which dissolve into intangible nothingness, leaving only a
vague, shadowy outline as the mind quickens, or rather when the
senses that possess you in sleep relinquish the body to the
returning vital functions and spirit?

This unconscious conception of other planes, a beyond or betwixt,
that is neither mental nor material, neither here nor located
elsewhere, belongs to humanity in general, and is made evident from
the unsatiable desire of men to pry into phenomena latent or
recondite that offer no apparent return to humanity. This desire
has given men the knowledge they now possess of the sciences;
sciences yet in their infancy. Study in this direction is, at
present, altogether of the material plane, but in time to come, men
will gain control of outlying senses which will enable them to step
from the seen into the consideration of matter or force that is now
subtle and evasive, which must be accomplished day means of the
latent faculties that I have indicated.

There will be an unconscious development of new mind-forces in the
student of nature as the rudiments of these so-called sciences are
elaborated. Step by step, as the ages pass, the faculties of men
will, under progressive series of evolutions, imperceptibly pass
into higher phases until that which is even now possible with some
individuals of the purified esoteric school, but which would seem
miraculous if practiced openly at this day, will prove feasible to
humanity generally and be found in exact accord with natural laws. 

The conversational method of men, whereby communion between human
beings is carried on by disturbing the air by means of vocal organs
so as to produce mechanical pulsations of that medium, is crude in
the extreme. Mind craves to meet mind, but can not yet thrust
matter aside, and in order to communicate one with another, the
impression one mind wishes to convey to another must be first made
on the brain matter that accompanies it, which in turn influences
the organs of speech, inducing a disturbance of the air by the
motions of the vocal organs, which, by undulations that reach to
another being, act on his ear, and secondarily on the earthly
matter of his brain, and finally by this roundabout course, impress
the second being's mind.

In this transmission of motions there is great waste of energy and
loss of time, but such methods are a necessity of the present slow,
much-obstructed method of communication. There is, in cultivated
man, an innate craving for something more facile, and often a
partly developed conception, spectral and vague, appears, and the
being feels that there may be for mortals a richer, brighter life,
a higher earthly existence that science does not now indicate.

Such intimation of a deeper play of faculties is now most vivid
with men during the perfect loss of mental self as experienced in
dreams, which as yet man in the quick can not grasp, and which fade
as he awakens. As mental sciences are developed, investigators will
find that the medium known as air is unnecessary as a means of
conveying mind conceptions from one person to another; that
material sounds and word pulsations are cumbersome; that thought
force unexpressed may be used to accomplish more than speech can
do, and that physical exertions as exemplified in motion of matter
such as I have described will be unnecessary for mental
communication.

As door after door in these directions shall open before men,
mystery after mystery will be disclosed, and vanish as mysteries to
reappear as simple facts. Phenomena that are impossible and
unrevealed to the scientist of to-day will be familiar to the
coming multitude, and at last, as by degrees, clearer knowledge is
evolved, the vocal language of men will disappear, and humanity,
regardless of nationality, will, in silence and even in darkness,
converse eloquently together in mind language.

That which is now esoteric will become exoteric. Then mind will
meet mind as my mind now impinges on your own, and, in reply to
your unuttered question regarding my apparently unaccountable
powers of perception, I say they are perfectly natural, but while
I can read your thoughts, because of the fact that you can not
reciprocate in this direction, I must use my voice to impress your
mind.

You will know more of this, however, at a future day, for it has
been ordained that you are to be educated with an object that is
now concealed. At present you are interested mainly in the affairs
of life as you know them, and can not enter into these purer
spheres. We are approaching one of your former friends, and it may
be your pleasure to ask him some questions and to bid him
farewell."


CHAPTER IX.
I CAN NOT ESTABLISH MY IDENTITY 

In surprise I perceived coming towards us a light spring wagon, in
which rode one of my old acquaintances. Pleasure at the discovery
led me to raise my hat, wave it around my head, and salute him even
at the considerable distance that then separated us. I was annoyed
at the look of curiosity that passed over his countenance, and not
until the two vehicles had stopped side by side did it occur to me
that I was unrecognized.

I had been so engrossed in my companion's revelations, that I had
forgotten my unfortunate physical condition. I stretched out my
hand, I leaned over almost into the other vehicle, and earnestly
said: "Do you not know me? Only a short time ago we sat and
conversed side by side." A look of bewilderment came over his
features. "I have never seen you that I can recall," he answered.

My spirit sank within me. Could it be possible that I was. really
so changed? I begged him to try and recall my former self, giving
my name. "I am that person," I added; but he, with an expression of
countenance that told as plainly as words could speak that he
considered me deranged, touched his horse, and drove on. My
companion broke the awkward silence.

"Do you know that I perceived between you two men an unconscious
display of mind-language, especially evident on your part? You
wished with all the earnestness of your soul to bring yourself as
you formerly appeared, before that man, and when it proved
impossible, without a word from him, his mind exhibited itself to
your more earnest intellect, and you realized that he said to
himself, This person is a poor lunatic.

He told you his thoughts in mind language, as plainly as words
could have spoken, because the intense earnestness on your part
quickened your perceptive faculties, but he could not see your
mental state, and the pleading voice of the apparent stranger
before him could not convince the unconcerned lethargic mind within
him.

I observed, however, in addition to what you noticed, that he is
really looking for you. That, is the object of his journey, and I
learn that in every direction men are now spreading the news that
you have been kidnapped and carried from your jail. However, we
shall soon be in the village, and you will then hear more about
yourself."

We rode in silence while I meditated on my remarkable situation. I
could not resign myself without a struggle to my approaching fate,
and I felt even yet a hope, although I seemed powerless in the
hands of destiny. Could I not, by some method, convince my friends
of my identity? I determined, forgetting the fact that my guide was
even then reading my mind, that upon the next opportunity I would
pursue a different course.

"It will not avail," my companion replied. "You must do one of two
things: you will voluntarily go with me, or you will involuntarily
go to an insane asylum. Neither you nor I could by any method
convince others that the obviously decrepit old man beside me was
but yesterday hale, hearty, young and strong. You will find that
you can not prove your identity, and as a friend, one of the great
brotherhood to which you belong, a craft that deals charitably with
all men and all problems, I advise you to accept the situation as
soon as possible after it becomes evident to your mind that you are
lost to former affiliations, and must henceforth be a stranger to
the people whom you know.

Take my advice, and cease to regret the past and cheerfully turn
your thoughts to the future. On one side of you the lunatic asylum
is open; on the other, a journey into an unknown region, beyond the
confines of any known country. On the one hand, imprisonment and
subjection, perhaps abuse and neglect; on the other, liberation of
soul, evolution of faculty, and a grasping of superior knowledge
that is denied most men - yes, withheld from all but a few persons
of each generation, for only a few, unknown to the millions of this
world's inhabitants, have passed over the road you are to travel. 

Just now you wished to meet your jailer of a few hours ago; it is
a wise conclusion, and if he does not recognize you, I ask in
sincerity, who will be likely to do so? We will drive straight to
his home; but, here he comes." Indeed, we were now in the village,
where my miserable journey began, and perhaps by chance - it seems
that it could not have been otherwise - my former jailer actually
approached us. "If you please," said my companion, "I will assist
you to alight from the wagon, and you may privately converse with
him." Our wagon stopped, my guide opened a conversation with the
jailer, saying that his friend wished to speak with him, and then
assisted me to alight and retired a distance.

I was vexed at my infirmities, which embarrassed me most
exasperatingly, but which I knew were artificial; my body appeared
unwilling although my spirit was anxious; but do what I could to
control my actions, I involuntarily behaved like a decrepit old man
However, my mind was made up; this attempt to prove my personality
should be the last; failure now would prove the turning point, and
I would go willingly with my companion upon the unknown journey if
I could not convince the jailer of my identity.

Straightening myself before the expectant jailer, who, with a look
of inquisitiveness, regarded me as a stranger, I asked if he knew
my former self, giving my name. "That I do," he replied, "and if I
could find him at this moment I would be relieved of a load of
worry." "Would you surely know him if you met him?" I asked.
"Assuredly," he replied; "and if you bring tidings of his
whereabouts, as your bearing indicates, speak, that I may rid
myself of suspicion and suspense." Calling the jailer by name, I
asked him if my countenance did not remind him of the man he wished
to find.

"Not at all." "Listen, does not my voice resemble that of your
escaped prisoner?" "Not in the least." With a violent effort I drew
my form as straight as possible, and stood upright before him, with
every facial muscle strained to its utmost, in a vain endeavor to
bring my wrinkled countenance to its former smoothness, and with
the energy that a drowning man might exert to grasp a passing
object, I tried to control my voice, and preserve my identity by so
doing, vehemently imploring him, begging him to listen to my story.

"I am the man you seek; I am the prisoner who, a few days ago,
stood in the prime of life before you. I have been spirited away
from you by men who are leagued with occult forces, which extend
forward among hidden mysteries, into forces which illuminate the
present, and reach backward into the past unseen. These persons, by
artful and damnable manipulations under the guidance of a power
that has been evolved in the secrecy of past ages, and transmitted
only to a favored few, have changed the strong man you knew into
the one apparently feeble, who now confronts you. Only a short
period has passed since I was your unwilling captive, charged with
debt, a trifling sum; and then, as your sullen prisoner, I longed
for freedom. 

Now I plead before you, with all my soul, I beg of you to take me
back to my cell. Seal your doors, and hold me again, for your
dungeon will now be to me a paradise." I felt that I was becoming
frantic, for with each word I realized that the jailer became more
and more impatient and annoyed. I perceived that he believed me to
be a lunatic. Pleadings and entreaties were of no avail, and my
eagerness rapidly changed into despair until at last I cried: "If
you will not believe my words, I will throw myself on the mercy of
my young companion.

I ask you to consider his testimony, and if he says that I am not
what I assert myself to be, I will leave my home and country, and
go with him quietly into the unknown future." He turned to depart,
but I threw myself before him, and beckoned the young man who, up
to this time, had stood aloof in respectful silence. He came
forward, and addressing the jailer, called him by name, and
corroborated my story. Yes, strange as it sounded to me, he
reiterated the substance of my narrative as I had repeated it. 

"Now, you will believe it," I cried in ecstacy; "now you need no
longer question the facts that I have related." Instead, however,
of accepting the story of the witness, the jailer upbraided him:
"This is a preconcerted arrangement to get me into ridicule or
further trouble. You two have made up an incredible story that on
its face is fit only to be told to men as crazy or designing as
yourselves. This young man did not even overhear your conversation
with me, and yet he repeats his lesson without a question from me
as to what I wish to learn of him."

"He can see our minds," I cried in despair. "Crazier than I should
have believed from your countenance," the jailer replied. "Of all
the improbable stories imaginable, you have attempted to inveigle
me into accepting that which is most unreasonable. If you are
leagued together intent on some swindling scheme, I give you
warning now that I am in no mood for trifling. Go your way, and
trouble me no more with this foolish scheming, which villainy or
lunacy of some description must and trouble." He turned in anger
and left us.

"It is as I predicted," said my companion; "you are lost to man.
Those who know you best will turn from you soonest. I might become
as wild as you are, in your interest, and only serve to make your
story appear more extravagant. In human affairs men judge and act
according to the limited knowledge at command of the multitude.
Witnesses who tell the truth are often, in our courts of law,
stunned, as you have been, by the decisions of a narrow-minded
jury. Men sit on juries with little conception of the facts of the
case that is brought before them; the men who manipulate them are
mere tools in unseen hands that throw their several minds in
antagonisms unexplainable to man.

The judge is unconsciously often a tool of his own errors or those
of others. One learned judge unties what another has fastened, each
basing his views on the same testimony, each rendering his decision
in accordance with law derived from the same authority. Your case
is that condition of mind that men call lunacy. You can see much
that is hidden from others because you have become acquainted with
facts that their narrow education forbids them to accept, but,
because the majority is against you, they consider you mentally
unbalanced.

The philosophy of men does not yet comprehend the conditions that
have operated on your person, and as you stand alone, although in
the right, all men will oppose you, and you must submit to the
views of a misguided majority. In the eyes of a present generation
you are crazy. A jury of your former peers could not do else than
so adjudge you, for you are not on the same mental plane, and I
ask, will you again attempt to accomplish that which is as
impossible as it would be for you to drink the waters of Seneca
bake atone draught?

Go to those men and propose to drain that lake at one gulp, and you
will be listened to as seriously as when you beg your former
comrades to believe that you are another person than what you seem.
Only lengthened life is credited with the production of physical
changes that under favorable conditions, are possible of
accomplishment in a brief period, and such testimony as you could
bring, in the present state of human knowledge, would only add to
the proof of your lunacy."

"I see, I see," I said; "and I submit. Lead on, I am ready.
Whatever my destined career may be, wherever it may be, it can only
lead to the grave." "Do not be so sure of that," was the reply. I
shuddered instinctively, for this answer seemed to imply that the
stillness of the grave would be preferable to my destiny. We got
into the wagon again, and a deep silence followed as we rode along,
gazing abstractedly on the open fields and lonely farm houses.
Finally we reached to a little village. Here my companion dismissed
the farmer, our driver, paying him liberally, and secured lodgings
in a private (I believe we were expected), and after a hearty
supper we retired.

From the time we left the jailer I never again attempted to reveal
my indentity. I had lost my interest in the past, and found myself
craving to know what the future had in store for me.


CHAPTER X. 
MY JOURNEY TOWARDS THE END OF EARTH BEGINS.
THE ADEPTS' BROTHERHOOD. 

My companion did not attempt to watch over my motions or in any way
to interfere with my freedom. "I will for a time necessarily be
absent," he said, "arranging for our journey, and while I am
getting ready you must employ yourself as best you can. I ask you,
however, now to swear that, as you have promised, you will not seek
your wife and children."

To this I agreed. "Hold up your hand," he said, and I repeated
after him: "All this I most solemnly and sincerely promise and
swear, with a firm and steadfast resolution to keep and perform my
oath, without the least equivocation, mental reservation or
self-evasion whatever." "That will answer; see that you keep your
oath this time," he said, and he departed. Several days were
consumed before he returned, and during that time I was an
inquisitive and silent listener to the various conjectures others
were making regarding my abduction which event was becoming of
general interest.

Some of the theories advanced were quite near the truth, others
wild and erratic. How preposterous it seemed to me that the actor
himself could be in the very seat of the disturbance, willing,
anxious to testify, ready to prove the truth concerning his
position, and yet unable even to obtain a respectful hearing from
those most interested in his recovery.


Men gathered together discussing the "outrage;" women, children,
even, talked of little else, and it was evident that the entire
country was aroused. New political issues took their rise from the
event, but the man who was the prime cause of the excitement was
for a period a willing and unwilling listener, as he had been a
willing and unwilling actor in the tragedy. One morning my
companion drove up in a light carriage, drawn by a span of fine,
spirited, black horses.

"We are ready now," he said, and my unprecedented journey began.
Wherever we stopped, I heard my name mentioned. Men combined
against men, brother was declaiming against brother, neighbor was
against neighbor, everywhere suspicion was in the air. "The passage
of time alone can quiet these people," said I. "The usual
conception of the term Time - an indescribable something flowing at
a constant rate - is erroneous," replied my comrade. "Time is
humanity's best friend, and should be pictured as a ministering
angel, instead of a skeleton with hour-glass and scythe. Time does
not fly, but is permanent and quiescent, while restless,
force-impelled matter rushes onward.

Force and matter fly; Time reposes. At our birth we are wound up
like a machine, to move for a certain number of years, grating
against Time. We grind against that complacent spirit, and wear not
Time but ourselves away. We hold within ourselves a certain amount
of energy, which, an evanescent form of matter, is the opponent of
Time. Time has no existence with inanimate objects. It is a
conception of the human intellect. Time is rest, perfect rest,
tranquillity such as man never realizes unless he becomes a part of
the sweet silences toward which human life and human mind are
drifting.

So much for Time. Now for Life. Disturbed energy in one of its
forms, we call Life; and this Life is the great enemy of peace, the
opponent of steadfast perfection. Pure energy, the soul of the
universe, permeates all things with which man is now acquainted,
but when at rest is imperceptible to man, while disturbed energy,
according to its condition, is apparent either as matter or as
force. A substance or material body is a manifestation resulting
from a disturbance of energy. The agitating cause removed, the
manifestations disappear, and thus a universe may be extinguished,
without unbalancing the cosmos that remains.

The worlds known to man are conditions of abnormal energy moving on
separate planes through what men call space. They attract to
themselves bodies of similar description, and thus influence one
another - they have each a separate existence, and are swayed to
and fro under the influence of the various disturbances in energy
common to their rank or order, which we call forms of forces. 

Unsettled energy also assumes numerous other expressions that are
unknown to man, but which in all perceptible forms is characterized
by motion. Pure energy can not be appreciated by the minds of
mortals. There are invisible worlds besides those perceived by us
in our planetary system, unreachable centers of ethereal structure
about us that stand in a higher plane of development than earthly
matter which is a gross form of disturbed energy. There are also
lower planes.

Man's acquaintance with the forms of energy is the result of his
power of perceiving the forms of matter of which he is a part.
Heat, light, gravitation, electricity and magnetism are ever
present in all perceivable substances, and, although purer than
earth, they are still manifestations of absolute energy, and for
this reason are sensible to men, but more evanescent than material
bodies.

Perhaps you can conceive that if these disturbances could be
removed, matter or force would be resolved back into pure energy,
and would vanish. Such a dissociation is an ethereal existence, and
as pure energy the life spirit of all material things is neither
cold nor hot, heavy nor light, solid, liquid nor gaseous - men can
not, as mortals now exist, see, feel, smell, taste, or even
conceive of it. It moves through space as we do through it, a world
of itself as transparent to matter as matter is to it, insensible
but ever present, a reality to higher existences that rest in other
planes, but not to us an essence subject to scientific test, nor an
entity.

Of these problems and their connection with others in the unseen
depths beyond, you are not yet in a position properly to judge, but
before many years a new sense will be given you or a development of
latent senses by the removal of those more gross, and a partial
insight into an unsuspected unseen, into a realm to you at present
unknown.

"It has been ordained that a select few must from time to time pass
over the threshold that divides a mortal's present life from the
future, and your lot has been cast among the favored ones. It is or
should be deemed a privilege to be permitted to pass farther than
human philosophy has yet gone, into an investigation of the
problems of life; this I say to encourage you. We have in our order
a handful of persons who have received the calculated fruits of the
close attention others have given to these subjects which have been
handed to them by the generations of men who have preceded.

You are destined to become as they are. This study of semi-occult
forces has enabled those selected for the work to master some of
the concealed truths of being, and by the partial development of a
new sense or new senses, partly to triumph over death. These facts
are hidden from ordinary man, and from the earth-bound workers of
our brotherhood, who can not even interpret the words they learn. 

The methods by which they are elucidated have been locked from man
because the world is not prepared to receive them, selfishness
being the ruling passion of debased mankind, and publicity, until
the chain of evidence is more complete, would embarrass their
further evolutions, for man as yet lives on the selfish plane."

"Do you mean that, among men, there are a few persons possessed of
powers such as you have mentioned?" "Yes; they move here and there
through all orders of society, and their attainments are unknown,
except to one another, or, at most, to but few persons. These
adepts are scientific men, and may not even be recognized as
members of our organization; indeed it is often necessary, for
obvious reasons, that they should not be known as such.

These studies must constantly be prosecuted in various directions,
and some monitors must teach others to perform certain duties that
are necessary to the grand evolution. Hence, when a man has become
one of our brotherhood, from the promptings that made you one of
us, and has been as ready and determined to instruct outsiders in
our work as you have been, it is proper that he should in turn be
compelled to serve our people, and eventually, mankind."

"Am I to infer from this," I exclaimed, a sudden light breaking
upon me, "that the alchemistic manuscript that led me to the
fraternity to which you are related may have been artfully designed
to serve the interest of that organization?" To this question I
received no reply. After an interval, I again sought information
concerning the order, and with more success. 

"I understand that you propose that I shall go on a journey of
investigation for the good of our order and also of humanity."
"True; it is necessary that our discoveries be kept alive, and it
is essential that the men who do this work accept the trust of
their own accord. He who will not consent to add to the common
stock of knowledge and understanding, must be deemed a drone in the
hive of nature - but few persons, however, are called upon to serve
as you must serve.

Men are scattered over the world with this object in view, and are
unknown to their families or even to other members of the order;
they hold in solemn trust our sacred revelations, and impart them
to others as is ordained, and thus nothing perishes; eventually
humanity will profit. "Others, as you soon will be doing, are now
exploring assigned sections of this illimitable field, accumulating
further knowledge, and they will report results to those whose duty
it is to retain and formulate the collected sum of facts and
principles.

So it is that, unknown to the great body of our brotherhood, a
chosen number, under our esoteric teachings, are gradually passing
the dividing line that separates life from death, matter from
spirit, for we have members who have mastered these problems. We
ask, however, no aid of evil forces or of necromancy or black art,
and your study of alchemy was of no avail, although to save the
vital truths alchemy is a part of our work. We proceed in exact
accordance with natural laws, which will yet be known to all men. 

Sorrow, suffering, pain of all descriptions, are enemies to the
members of our order, as they are to mankind broadly, and we hope
in the future so to control the now hidden secrets of Nature as to
be able to govern the antagonistic disturbances in energy with
which man now is everywhere thwarted, to subdue the physical
enemies of the race, to affiliate religious and scientific thought,
cultivating brotherly love, the foundation and capstone, the cement
and union of this ancient fraternity."

"And am I really to take an important part in this scheme? Have I
been set apart to explore a section of the unknown for a bit of
hidden knowledge, and to return again?" "This I will say, "he
answered, evading a direct reply, "you have been selected for a
part that one in a thousand has been required to undertake. You are
to pass into a field that will carry you beyond the present limits
of human observation. This much I have been instructed to impart to
you in order to nerve you for your duty. I seem to be a young man;
really I am aged. You seem to be infirm and old, but you are young.

Many years ago, cycles ago as men record time, I was promoted to do
a certain work because of my zealous nature; like you, I also had
to do penance for an error. I disappeared, as you are destined to
do, from the sight of men. I regained my youth; yours has been lost
forever, but you will regain more than your former strength. We
shall both exist after this generation of men has passed away, and
shall mingle with generations yet to be born, for we shall learn
how to restore our youthful vigor, and will supply it time and
again to earthly matter.

Rest assured also that the object of our labors is of the most
laudable nature, and we must be upheld under all difficulties by
the fact that multitudes of men who are yet to come will be
benefited thereby.


CHAPTER XI 
MY JOURNEY CONTINUES.
INSTINCT.

It is unnecessary for me to give the details of the first part of
my long journey. My companion was guided by a perceptive faculty
that, like the compass, enabled him to keep in the proper course.
He did not question those whom we met, and made no endeavor to
maintain a given direction; and yet he was traveling in a part of
the country that was new to himself. I marveled at the accuracy of
his intuitive perception, for he seemed never to be at fault. When
the road forked, he turned to the right or the left in a perfectly
careless manner, but the continuity of his course was never
interrupted.

I began mentally to question whether he could be guiding us aright,
forgetting that he was reading my thoughts, and he answered: "There
is nothing strange in this self-directive faculty. Is not man
capable of following where animals lead? One of the objects of my
special study has been to ascertain the nature of the
instinct-power of animals, the sagacity of brutes. The carrier
pigeon will fly to its cote across hundreds of miles of strange
country. The young pig will often return to its pen by a route
unknown to it; the sluggish tortoise will find its home without a
guide, without seeing a familiar object; cats, horses and other
animals possess this power, which is not an unexplainable instinct,
but a natural sense better developed in some of the lower creatures
than it is in man.

The power lies dormant in man, but exists, nevertheless. If we
develop one faculty we lose acuteness in some other power. Men have
lost in mental development in this particular direction while
seeking to gain in others. If there were no record of the fact that
light brings objects to the recognition of the mind through the
agency of the eye, the sense of sight in an animal would be
considered by men devoid of it as adaptability to extraordinary
circumstances, or instinct.

So it is that animals often see clearly where to the sense of man
there is only darkness; such sight is not irresponsive action
without consciousness of a purpose. Man is not very magnanimous.
Instead of giving credit to the lower animals for superior
perception in many directions, he denies to them the conscious
possession of powers imperfectly developed in mankind.

We egotistically aim to raise ourselves, and do so in our own
estimation by clothing the actions of the lower animals in a
garment of irresponsibility. Because we can not understand the
inwardness of their power, we assert that they act by the influence
of instinct. The term instinct, as I would define it, is an
expression applied by men to a series of senses which man
possesses, but has not developed.

The word is used by man to characterize the mental superiority of
other animals in certain directions where his own senses are
defective. Instead of crediting animals with these, to them,
invaluable faculties, man conceitedly says they are involuntary
actions. Ignorant of their mental status, man is too arrogant to
admit that lower animals are superior to him in any way. But we are
not consistent.

Is it not true that in the direction in which you question my
power, some men by cultivation often become expert beyond their
fellows? And such men have also given very little systematic study
to subjects connected with these undeniable mental qualities. The
hunter will hold his course in utter darkness, passing inequalities
in the ground, and avoiding obstructions he can not see. The fact
of his superiority in this way, over others, is not questioned,
although he can not explain his methods nor understand how he
operates.

His quickened sense is often as much entitled to be called instinct
as is the divining power of the carrier pigeon. If scholars would
cease to devote their entire energies to the development of the
material, artistic, or scientific part of modern civilization, and
turn their attention to other forms of mental culture, many
beauties and powers of Nature now unknown would be revealed. 

However, this can not be, for under existing conditions, the strife
for food and warmth is the most important struggle that engages
mankind, and controls our actions. In a time that is surely to
come, however, when the knowledge of all men is united into a
comprehensive whole, the book of life, illuminated, thereby, will
contain many beautiful pages that may be easily read, but which are
now not suspected to exist.

The power of the magnet is not uniform - engineers know that the
needle of the compass inexplicably deviates from time to time as a
line is run over the earth's surface, but they also know that
aberrations of the needle finally correct themselves. The temporary
variations of a few degrees that occur in the running of a compass
line are usually overcome after a time, and without a change of
course, the disturbed needle swerves back, and again points to the
calculated direction, as is shown by the vernier.

Should I err in my course, it would be by a trifle only, and we
could not go far astray before I would unconsciously discover the
true path. I carry my magnet in my mind." Many such dissertations
or explanations concerning related questions were subsequently made
in what I then considered a very impressive, though always
unsatisfactory, manner.

I recall those episodes now, after other more remarkable
experiences which are yet to be related, and record them briefly
with little wonderment, because I have gone through adventures
which demonstrate that there is nothing improbable in the
statements, and I will not consume time with further details of
this part of my journey. We leisurely traversed state after state,
crossed rivers, mountains and seemingly interminable forests. The
ultimate object of our travels, a location in Kentucky, I afterward
learned, led my companion to guide me by a roundabout course to
Wheeling, Virginia, by the usual mountain roads of that day,
instead of going, as he might perhaps have much more easily done,
via Buffalo and the Lake Shore to Northern Ohio, and then southerly
across the country.

He said in explanation, that the time lost at the beginning of our
journey by this route, was more than recompensed by the ease of the
subsequent Ohio River trip. Upon reaching Wheeling, he disposed of
the team, and we embarked on a keel boat, and journeyed down the
Ohio to Cincinnati. The river was falling when we started, and
became very low before Cincinnati was reached, too low for
steamers, and our trip in that flat-bottomed boat, on the sluggish
current of the tortuous stream, proved tedious and slow. Arriving
at Cincinnati, my guide decided to wait for a rise in the river,
designing then to complete our journey on a steamboat.

I spent several days in Cincinnati quite pleasantly, expecting to
continue our course on the steamer "Tecumseh," then in port, and
ready for departure. At the last moment my guide changed his mind,
and instead of embarking on that boat, we took passage on the
steamer "George Washington," leaving Shipping-Port Wednesday,
December 13, 1826. During that entire journey, from the
commencement to our final destination, my guide paid all the bills,
and did not want either for money or attention from the people with
whom we came in contact.

He seemed everywhere a stranger, and yet was possessed of a
talisman that opened every door to which he applied, and which gave
us unlimited accommodations wherever he asked them. When the boat
landed at Smithland, Kentucky, a village on the bank of the Ohio,
just above Paducah, we disembarked, and my guide then for the first
time seemed mentally disturbed. "Our journey together is nearly
over," he said; "in a few days my responsibility for you will
cease. Nerve yourself for the future, and bear its trials and its
pleasures manfully. I may never see you again, but as you are even
now conspicuous in our history, and will be closely connected with
the development of the plan in which I am also interested, although
I am destined to take a different part, I shall probably hear of
you again."


CHAPTER XII.
A CAVERN DISCOVERED.
BISWELL'S HILL.

We stopped that night at a tavern in Smithland. Leaving this place
after dinner the next day, on foot, we struck through the country,
into the bottom lands of the Cumberland River traveling leisurely,
lingering for hours in the course of a circuitous tramp of only a
few miles. Although it was the month of December, the climate was
mild and balmy. In my former home, a similar time of year would
have been marked with snow, sleet, and ice, and I could not but
draw a contrast between the two localities.

How different also the scenery from that of my native State. Great
timber trees, oak, poplar, hickory, were in majestic possession of
large tracts of territory, in the solitude of which man, so far as
evidences of his presence were concerned, had never before trodden.
Prom time to time we passed little clearings that probably were to
be enlarged to thrifty plantations in the future, and finally we
crossed the Cumberland River.

That night we rested with Mr. Joseph Watts, a wealthy and cultured
land owner, who resided on the river's bank. After leaving his home
the next morning, we journeyed slowly, very slowly, my guide
seemingly passing with reluctance into the country. He had become
a very pleasant companion, and his conversation was very
entertaining. We struck the sharp point of a ridge the morning we
left Mr. Watts' hospitable house. It was four or five miles
distant, but on the opposite side of the Cumberland, from
Smithland.


Here a steep bluff broke through the bottom land to the river's
edge, the base of the bisected point being washed by the Cumberland
River, which had probably cut its way through the stony mineral of
this ridge in ages long passed. We climbed to its top and sat upon
the pinnacle, and from that point of commanding observation I drank
in the beauties of the scene around me. The river at our feet wound
gracefully before us, and disappeared in both directions, its
extremes dissolving in a bed of forest.

A great black bluff, far up the stream, rose like a mountain, upon
the left side of the river; bottom lands were about us, and hills
appeared across the river in the far distance - towards the
Tennessee River. With regret I finally drew my eyes from the
vision, and we resumed the journey. We followed the left bank of
the river to the base of the black bluff, "Biswell's Hill," a
squatter called it, - and then skirted the side of that hill,
passing along precipitous stone bluffs and among stunted cedars. 

Above us towered cliff over cliff, almost perpendicularly; below us
rolled the river. I was deeply impressed by the changing beauties
of this strange Kentucky scenery, but marveled at the fact that
while I became light-hearted and enthusiastic, my guide grew
correspondingly despondent and gloomy. From time to time he lapsed
into thoughtful silence, and once I caught his eye directed toward
me in a manner that I inferred to imply either pity or envy.

We passed Biswell's Bluff, and left the Cumberland River at its
upper extremity, where another small creek empties into the river.
Thence, after ascending the creek some distance, we struck across
the country, finding it undulating and fertile, with here and there
a small clearing. During this journey we either camped out at
night, or stopped with a resident, when one was to be found in that
sparsely settled country. Some times there were exasperating
intervals between our meals; but we did not suffer, for we carried
with us supplies of food, such as cheese and crackers, purchased in
Smithland, for emergencies.

We thus proceeded a considerable distance into Livingston County,
Kentucky. I observed remarkable sinks in the earth, sometimes
cone-shaped, again precipitous. These cavities were occasionally of
considerable size and depth, and they were more numerous in the
uplands than in the bottoms. They were somewhat like the familiar
"sink-holes" of New York State, but monstrous in comparison. The
first that attracted my attention was near the Cumberland River,
just before we reached Biswell's Hill.

It was about forty feet deep and thirty in diameter, with
precipitous stone sides, shrubbery growing therein in exceptional
spots where loose earth had collected on shelves of stone that
cropped out along its rugged sides. The bottom of the depression
was flat and fertile, covered with a luxuriant mass of vegetation.
On one side of the base of the gigantic bowl, a cavern struck down
into the earth. I stood upon the edge of this funnel-like sink, and
marveled at its peculiar appearance.

A spirit of curiosity, such as often influences men when an unusual
natural scene presents itself, possessed me. I clambered down,
swinging from brush to brush, and stepping from shelving-rock to
shelving-rock, until I reached the bottom of the hollow, and
placing my hand above the black hole in its center, I perceived
that a current of cold air was rushing therefrom, upward. I probed
with along stick, but the direction of the opening was tortuous,
and would not admit of examination in that manner.

I dropped a large pebble-stone into the orifice; the pebble rolled
and clanked down, down, and at last, the sound died away in the
distance. "I wish that I could go into the cavity as that stone has
done, and find the secrets of this cave," I reflected, the natural
love of exploration possessing me as it probably does most men.

My companion above, seated on the brink of the stone wall, replied
to my thoughts: "Your wish shall be granted. You have requested
that which has already been laid out for you. You will explore
where few men have passed before, and will have the privilege of
following your destiny into a realm of natural wonders. A fertile
field of investigation awaits you, such as will surpass your most
vivid imaginings. Come and seat yourself beside me, for it is my
duty now to tell you something about the land we are approaching,
the cavern fields of Kentucky."


CHAPTER XIII.
THE PUNCH-BOWLS AND CAVERNS OF KENTUCKY.
"INTO THE UNKNOWN COUNTRY."

"This part of Kentucky borders a field of caverns that reaches from
near the State of Tennessee to the Ohio River, and from the mouth
of the Cumberland, eastward to and beyond the center of the State.
This great area is of irregular outline, and as yet has been little
explored. Underneath the surface are layers of limestone and
sandstone rock, the deposits ranging from ten to one hundred and
fifty feet in thickness, and often great masses of conglomerate
appear. This conglomerate sometimes caps the ridges, and varies in
thickness from a few feet only, to sixty, or even a hundred, feet. 

It is of a diversified character, sometimes largely composed of
pebbles cemented together by iron ore into compact beds, while
again it passes abruptly into gritty sandstone, or a fine-grained
compact, rock destitute of pebbles. Sometimes the conglomerate
rests directly on the limestone, but in the section about us, more
often argillaceous shales or veins of coal intervene, and
occasionally inferior and superior layers of conglomerate are
separated by a bed of coal.

In addition, lead-bearing veins now and then crop up, the crystals
of galena being disseminated through masses of fluorspar,
talc-spar, limestone and clay, which fill fissures between tilted
walls of limestone and hard quartzose sandstone. Valleys, hills,
and mountains, grow out of this remarkable crust. Rivers and creeks
flow through and under it in crevices, either directly upon the
bedstone or over deposits of clay which underlie it. In some
places, beds of coal or slate alternate with layers of the lime
rock; in others, the interspace is clay and sand.

Sometimes the depth of the several limestone and conglomerate
deposits is great, and they are often honeycombed by innumerable
transverse and diagonal spaces. Water drips have here and there
washed out the more friable earth and stone, forming grottoes which
are as yet unknown to men, but which will be discovered to be
wonderful and fantastic beyond anything of a like nature now
familiar. In other places cavities exist between shelves of rock
that lie one above the other-monstrous openings caused by the
erosive action of rivers now lost, but that have flowed during
unnumbered ages past; great parallel valleys and gigantic chambers,
one over the other, remaining to tell the story of these former
torrents.

Occasionally the weight of a portion of the disintegrating rock
above becomes too great for its tensile strength and the material
crumbles and falls, producing caverns sometimes reaching so near to
the earth's surface, as to cause sinks in its crust. These sinks,
when first formed, as a rule, present clear rock fractures, and
immediately after their formation there is usually a water-way
beneath. In the course of time soil collects on their sides, they
become cone-shaped hollows from the down-slidings of earth, and
then vegetation appears on the living soil; trees grow within them,
and in many places the sloping sides of great earth bowls of this
nature are, after untold years, covered with the virgin forest;
magnificent timber trees growing on soil that has been stratified
over and upon decayed monarchs of the forest whose remains,
imbedded in the earth, speak of the ages that have passed since the
convulsions that made the depressions which, notwithstanding the
accumulated debris, are still a hundred feet or more in depth.

If the drain or exit at the vortex of one of these sinks becomes
clogged, which often occurs, the entire cavity fills with water,
and a pond results. Again, a slight orifice reaching far beneath
the earth's surface may permit the soil to be gradually washed into
a subterranean creek, and thus are formed great bowls, like funnels
sunk in the earth - Kentucky punch-bowls. "Take the country about
us, especially towards the Mammoth Cave, and for miles beyond, the
landscape in certain localities is pitted with this description of
sinks, some recent, others very old.

Many are small, but deep; others are large and shallow. Ponds often
of great depth, curiously enough overflowing and giving rise to a
creek, are to be found on a ridge, telling of underground supply of
springs, not outlets, beneath. Chains of such sinks, like a row of
huge funnels, often appear; the soil between them is slowly washed
through their exit into the river, flowing in the depths below, and
as the earth that separates them is carried away by the
subterranean streams, the bowls coalesce, and a ravine, closed at
both ends, results.

Along the bottom of such a ravine, a creek may flow, rushing from
its natural tunnel at one end of the line, and disappearing in a
gulf at the other. The stream begins in mystery, and ends in
unfathomed darkness. Near Marion, Hurricane Creek thus disappears,
and, so far as men know, is lost to sight forever. Near
Cridersville, in this neighborhood, a valley such as I have
described, takes in the surface floods of a large tract of country.

The waters that run down its sides, during a storm form a torrent,
and fence-rails, timbers, and other objects are gulped into the
chasm where the creek plunges into the earth, and they never appear
again. This part of Kentucky is the most remarkable portion of the
known world, and although now neglected, in a time to come is
surely destined to an extended distinction. I have referred only to
the surface, the skin formation of this honeycombed labyrinth, the
entrance to the future wonderland of the world. Portions of such a
superficial cavern maze have been traversed by man in the
ramifications known as the Mammoth Cave, but deeper than man has
yet explored, the subcutaneous structure of that series of caverns
is yet to be investigated.

The Mammoth Cave as now traversed is simply a superficial series of
grottoes and passages overlying the deeper cavern field that I have
described. The explored chain of passages is of great interest to
men, it is true, but of minor importance compared to others yet
unknown, being in fact, the result of mere surface erosion. The
river that bisects the cave, just beneath the surface of the earth,
and known as Echo River, is a miniature stream: there are others
more magnificent that flow majestically far, far beneath it.

As we descend into the earth in that locality, caverns multiply in
number and increase in size, retaining the general configuration of
those I have described. The layers of rock are thicker, the
intervening spaces broader; and the spaces stretch in increasingly
expanded chambers for miles, while high above each series of
caverns the solid ceilings of stone arch and interarch. Sheltered
under these subterrene alcoves are streams, lakes, rivers and
water-falls.

Near the surface of the earth such waters often teem with aquatic
life, and some of the caves are inhabited by species of birds,
reptiles and mammals as yet unknown to men, creatures possessed of
senses and organs that are different from any we find with surface
animals, and also apparently defective in particulars that would
startle persons acquainted only with creatures that live in the
sunshine.

It is a world beneath a world, a world within a world" My guide
abruptly stopped. I sat entranced, marveling at the young-old
adept's knowledge, admiring his accomplishments. I gazed into the
cavity that yawned beneath me, and imagined its possible but to me
invisible secrets, enraptured with the thought of searching into
them. Who would not feel elated at the prospect of an exploration,
such as I foresaw might be pursued in my immediate future? I had
often been charmed with narrative descriptions of discoveries, and
book accounts of scientific investigations, but I had never
pictured myself as a participant in such fascinating enterprises. 

"Indeed, indeed," I cried exultingly; "lead me to this Wonderland,
show me the entrance to this Subterranean World, and I promise
willingly to do as you bid." "Bravo!" he replied, "your heart is
right, your courage sufficient; I have not disclosed a thousandth
part of the wonders which I have knowledge of, and which await your
research, and probably I have not gained even an insight into the
mysteries that, if your courage permits, you will be privileged to
comprehend.

Your destiny lies beyond, far beyond that which I have pictured or
experienced; and I, notwithstanding my opportunities, have no
conception of its end, for at the critical moment my heart faltered
- I can therefore only describe the beginning." Thus at the lower
extremity of Biswell's Hill, I was made aware of the fact that,
within a short time, I should be separated from my sympathetic
guide, and that it was to be my duty to explore alone, or in other
company, some portion of these Kentucky cavern deeps, and I longed
for the beginning of my underground journey.

Heavens! how different would have been my future life could I then
have realized my position! Would that I could have seen the end.
After a few days of uneventful travel, we rested, one afternoon, in
a hilly country that before us appeared to be more rugged, even
mountainous. We had wandered leisurely, and were now at a
considerable distance from the Cumberland River, the aim of my
guide being, as I surmised, to evade a direct approach to some
object of interest which I must not locate exactly, and yet which
I shall try to describe accurately enough for identification by a
person familiar with the topography of that section.

We stood on the side of a stony, sloping hill, back of which spread
a wooded, undulating valley. "I remember to have passed along a
creek in that valley," I remarked, looking back over our pathway.
"It appeared to rise from this direction, but the source ends
abruptly in this chain of hills." "The stream is beneath us," he
answered. Advancing a few paces, he brought to my attention, on the
hillside, an opening in the earth. This aperture was irregular in
form, about the diameter of a well, and descended perpendicularly
into the stony crust.

I leaned far over the orifice, and heard the gurgle of rushing
water beneath. The guide dropped a heavy stone into the gloomy
shaft, and in some seconds a dull splash announced its plunge into
underground water. Then he leaned over the stony edge, and - could
I be mistaken? - seemed to signal to some one beneath; but it must
be imagination on my part, I argued to myself, even against my very
sense of sight.

Rising, and taking me by the hand, my guardian spoke. "Brother, we
approach the spot where you and I must separate. I serve my masters
and am destined to go where I shall next be commanded; you will
descend into the earth, as you have recently desired to do. Here we
part, most likely forever. This rocky fissure will admit the last
ray of sunlight on your path."

My heart failed. How often are we courageous in daylight and timid
by night? Men unflinchingly face in sunshine dangers at which they
shudder in the darkness. "How am I to descend into that abyss?" I
gasped. "The sides are perpendicular, the depth is unknown!" Then
I cried in alarm, the sense of distrust deepening: "Do you mean to
drown me; is it for this you have led me away from my native State,
from friends, home and kindred? You have enticed me into this
wilderness. I have been decoyed, and, like a foolish child, have
willingly accompanied my destroyer. You feared to murder me in my
distant home; the earth could not have hidden me; Niagara even
might have given up my body to dismay the murderers!

In this underground river in the wilds of Kentucky, all trace of my
existence will disappear forever." I was growing furious. My
frenzied eyes searched the ground for some missile of defense. By
strange chance some one had left, on that solitary spot, a rude
weapon, providentially dropped for my use, I thought. It was a
small iron bolt or bar, somewhat rusted. I threw myself upon the
earth, and, as I did so, picked this up quickly, and secreted it
within my bosom. Then I arose and resumed my stormy denunciation. 

"You have played your part well, you have led your unresisting
victim to the sacrifice, but if I am compelled to plunge into this
black grave, you shall go with me!" I shrieked in desperation, and
suddenly threw my arms around the gentle adept, intending to hurl
him into the chasm. At this point I felt my hands seized from
behind in a cold, clammy, irresistible embrace, my fingers were
loosed by a strong grasp, and I turned, to find myself confronted
by a singular looking being, who quietly said: "You are not to be
destroyed; we wish only to do your bidding."

The speaker stood in a stooping position, with his face towards the
earth as if to shelter it from the sunshine. He was less than five
feet in height. His arms and legs were bare, and his skin, the
color of light blue putty, glistened in the sunlight like the slimy
hide of a water dog. He raised his head, and I shuddered in
affright as I beheld that his face was not that of a human.

His forehead extended in an unbroken plane from crown to cheek
bone, and the chubby tip of an abortive nose without nostrils
formed a short projection near the center of the level ridge which
represented a countenance. There was no semblance of an eye, for
there were no sockets. Yet his voice was singularly perfect. His
face, if face it could be called, was wet, and water dripped from
all parts of his slippery person.

Yet, repulsive as he looked, I shuddered more at the remembrance of
the touch of that cold, clammy hand than at the sight of his
figure, for a dead man could not have chilled me as he had done,
with his sappy skin, from which the moisture seemed to ooze as from
the hide of a water lizard.

Turning to my guide, this freak of nature said, softly: "I have
come in obedience to the signal." I realized at once that alone
with these two I was powerless, and that to resist would be
suicidal. Instantly my effervescing passion subsided, and I
expressed no further surprise at this sudden and remarkable
apparition, but mentally acquiesced. I was alone and helpless; rage
gave place to inertia in the despondency that followed the
realization of my hopeless condition.

The grotesque newcomer who, though sightless, possessed a strange
instinct, led us to the base of the hill a few hundred feet away,
and there, gushing into the light from the rocky bluff, I saw a
magnificent stream issuing many feet in width. This was the
head-waters of the mysterious brook that I had previously noticed.
It flowed from an archway in the solid stone, springing directly
out of the rock-bound cliff; beautiful and picturesque in its
surroundings. The limpid water, clear and sparkling, issued from
the unknown source that was typical of darkness, but the brook of
crystal leaped into a world of sunshine, light and freedom. 

"Brother," said my companion, "this spring emerging from this
prison of earth images to us what humanity will be when the
prisoning walls of ignorance that now enthrall him are removed. Man
has heretofore relied chiefly for his advancement, both mental and
physical, on knowledge gained from so-called scientific
explorations and researches with matter, from material studies
rather than spiritual, all his investigations having been confined
to the crude, coarse substance of the surface of the globe. 

Spiritualistic investigations, unfortunately, are considered by
scientific men too often as reaching backward only. The religions
of the world clasp hands with, and lean upon, the dead past, it is
true, but point to a living future. Man must yet search by the
agency of senses and spirit, the unfathomed mysteries that lie
beneath his feet and over his head, and he who refuses to bow to
the Creator and honor his handiwork discredits himself.

When this work is accomplished, as it yet will be, the future man,
able then to comprehend the problem of life in its broader
significance, drawing from all directions the facts necessary to
his mental advancement, will have reached a state in which he can
enjoy bodily comfort and supreme spiritual perfection, while he is
yet an earth-bound mortal.

In hastening this consummation, it is necessary that an occasional
human life should be lost to the world, but such sacrifices are
noble - yes, sublime, because contributing to the future exaltation
of our race. The secret workers in the sacred order of which you
are still a member, have ever taken an important part in furthering
such a system of evolution. This feature of our work is unknown to
brethren of the ordinary fraternity, and the individual research of
each secret messenger is unguessed, by the craft at large.

Hence it is that the open workers of our order, those initiated by
degrees only, who in lodge rooms carry on their beneficent labors
among men, have had no hand other than as agents in your removal,
and no knowledge of your present or future movements. Their
function is to keep together our organization on earth, and from
them only an occasional member is selected, as you have been, to
perform special duties in certain adventurous studies.

Are you willing to go on this journey of exploration? and are you
brave enough to meet the trials you have invited?" Again my
enthusiasm arose, and I felt the thrill experienced by an
investigator who stands on the brink of an important discovery, and
needs but courage to advance, and I answered, "Yes." "Then,
farewell; this archway is the entrance that will admit you into
your arcanum of usefulness. This mystic Brother, though a stranger
to you, has long been apprised of our coming, and it was he who
sped me on my journey to seek you, and who has since been waiting
for us, and is to be your guide during the first stages of your
subterrene progress.

He is a Friend, and, if you trust him, will protect you from harm.
You will find the necessaries of life supplied, for I have
traversed part of your coming road; that part I therefore know,
but, as I have said, you are to go deeper into the unexplored, -  
yes, into and beyond the Beyond, until finally you will come to the
gateway that leads into the "Unknown Country."


CHAPTER XIV.
FAREWELL TO GODS SUNSHINE. 
THE ECHO OF THE CRY. 

Thus speaking, my quiet leader, who had so long been as a shepherd
to my wandering feet, on the upper earth, grasped my hands tightly,
and placed them in those of my new companion, whose clammy fingers
closed over them as with a grip of iron. The mysterious being, now
my custodian, turned towards the creek, drawing me after him, and
together we silently and solemnly waded beneath the stone archway. 

As I passed under the shadow of that dismal, yawning cliff, I
turned my head to take one last glimpse of the world I had known-
that "warm precinct of the cheerful day," - and tears sprang to my
eyes. I thought of life, family, friends, - of all for which men
live - and a melancholy vision arose, that of my lost, lost home. 

My dear companion of the journey that had just ended stood in the
sunlight on the banks of the rippling stream, gazing at us
intently, and waved an affectionate farewell. My uncouth new
associate (guide or master, whichever he might be), of the journey
to come, clasped me firmly by the arms, and waded slowly onward,
thrusting me steadily against the cold current, and with
irresistible force pressed me into the thickening darkness.

The daylight disappeared, the pathway contracted, the water
deepened and became more chilly. We were constrained to bow our
heads in order to avoid the overhanging vault of stone; the water
reached to my chin, and now the down - jutting roof touched the
crown of my head; then I shuddered convulsively as the last ray of
daylight disappeared. 

Had it not been for my companion, I know that I should have sunk in
despair, and drowned; but with a firm hand he held my head above
the water, and steadily pushed me onward. I had reached the extreme
of despondency: I neither feared nor cared for life nor death, and
I realized that, powerless to control my own acts, my fate, the
future, my existence depended on the strange being beside me.

I was mysteriously sustained, however, by a sense of bodily
security, such as comes over us as when in the hands of an
experienced guide we journey through a wilderness, for I felt that
my pilot of the underworld did not purpose to destroy me. We halted
a moment, and then, as a faint light overspread us, my eyeless
guide directed me to look upward.

"We now stand beneath the crevice which you were told by your
former guide would admit the last ray of sunlight on your path. I
also say to you, this struggling ray of sunlight is to be your last
for years." I gazed above me, feeling all the wretchedness of a
dying man who, with faculties intact, might stand on the dark edge
of the hillside of eternity, glancing back into the bright world;
and that small opening far, far overhead, seemed as the gate to
Paradise Lost.

Many a person, assured of ascending at will, has stood at the
bottom of a deep well or shaft to a mine, and even then felt the
undescribable sensation of dread, often terror, that is produced by
such a situation. Awe, mystery, uncertainty of life and future
superadded, may express my sensation. I trembled, shrinking in
horror from my captor and struggled violently.

"Hold, hold,"I begged, as one involuntarily prays a surgeon to
delay the incision of the amputating knife, "just one moment."My
companion, unheeding, moved on, the light vanished instantly, and
we were surrounded by total darkness. God's sunshine was blotted
out. Then I again became unconcerned; I was not now responsible for
my own existence, and the feeling that I experienced when a
prisoner in the closed carriage returned.

I grew careless as to my fate, and with stolid indifference
struggled onward as we progressed slowly against the current of
water. I began to interest myself in speculations regarding our
surroundings, and the object or outcome of our journey. In places
the water was shallow, scarce reaching to our ankles; again it was
so deep that we could wade only with exertion, and at times the
passage up which we toiled was so narrow, that it would scarcely
admit us.

After a long, laborious stemming of the unseen brook, my companion
directed me to close my mouth, hold my nostrils with my fingers,
and stoop; almost diving with me beneath the water, he drew me
through the submerged crevice, and we ascended into an open
chamber, and left the creek behind us. I fancied that we were in a
large room, and as I shouted aloud to test my hypothesis, echo
after echo answered, until at last the cry reverberated and died
away in distant murmurs.

We were evidently in a great pocket or cavern, through which my
guide now walked rapidly; indeed, he passed along with unerring
footsteps, as certain of his course as I might be on familiar
ground in full daylight. I perceived that he systematically evaded
inequalities that I could not anticipate nor see. He would tell me
to step up or down, as the surroundings required, and we ascended
or descended accordingly.

Our path turned to the right or the left from time to time, but my
eyeless guide passed through what were evidently the most tortuous
windings without a mishap. I wondered much at this gift of
knowledge, and at last overcame my reserve sufficiently to ask how
we could thus unerringly proceed in utter darkness. The reply was:
"The path is plainly visible to me; I see as clearly in pitch
darkness as you can in sunshine." "Explain yourself further,"I
requested.

He replied, "Not yet;" and continued, "you are weary, we will
rest." He conducted me to a seat on a ledge, and left me for a
time. Returning soon, he placed in my hands food which I ate with
novel relish. The pabulum seemed to be of vegetable origin, though
varieties of it had a peculiar flesh-like flavor. Several separate
and distinct substances were contained in the queer viands, some
portions savoring of wholesome flesh, while others possessed the
delicate flavors of various fruits, such as the strawberry and the
pineapple.

The strange edibles were of a pulpy texture, homogeneous in
consistence, parts being juicy and acid like grateful fruits. Some
portions were in slices or films that I could hold in my hand like
sections of a velvet melon, and yet were in many respects unlike
any other food that I had ever tasted. There was neither rind nor
seed; it seemed as though I were eating the gills of a fish, and in
answer to my question the guide remarked. "Yes; it is the gill, but
not the gill of a fish. You will be instructed in due time."

I will add that after this, whenever necessary, we were supplied
with food, but both thirst and hunger disappeared altogether before
our underground journey was finished. After a while we again began
our journey, which we continued in what was to me absolute
darkness. My strength seemed to endure the fatigue to a wonderful
degree, notwithstanding that we must have been walking hour after
hour, and I expressed a curiosity about the fact. My guide replied
that the atmosphere of the cavern possessed an intrinsic vitalizing
power that neutralized fatigue," or," he said, "there is here an
inherent constitutional energy derived from an active gaseous
substance that belongs to cavern air at this depth, and sustains
the life force by contributing directly to its conservation, taking
the place of food and drink."

"I do not understand," I said. "No; and you do not comprehend how
ordinary air supports mind and vitalizes muscle, and at the same
time wears out both muscle and all other tissues. These are facts
which are not satisfactorily explained by scientific statements
concerning oxygenation of the blood. As we descend into the earth
we find an increase in the life force of the cavern air."

This reference to surface earth recalled my former life, and led me
to contrast my present situation with that I had forfeited. I was
seized with an uncontrollable longing for home, and a painful
craving for the past took possession of my heart, but with a strong
effort I shook off the sensations. We traveled on and on in silence
and in darkness, and I thought again of the strange remark of my
former guide who had said: "You are destined to go deeper into the
unknown; yes, into and beyond the Beyond."


CHAPTER XV.
A ZONE OF LIGHT DEEP WITHIN THE EARTH

"Oh! for one glimpse of light, a ray of sunshine!" In reply to this
my mental ejaculation, my guide said: "Can not you perceive that
the darkness is becoming less intense?" "No," I answered, "I can
not; night is absolute." "Are you sure?" he asked. "Cover your eyes
with your hand, then uncover and open them." I did so and fancied
that by contrast a faint gray line was apparent. "This must be
imagination." "No; we now approach a zone of earth light; let us
hasten on." "A zone of light deep in the earth! Incomprehensible!
Incredible!" I muttered, and yet as we went onward and time passed
the darkness was less intense.

The barely perceptible hue became gray and somber, and then of a
pearly translucence, and although I could not distinguish the
outline of objects, yet I unquestionably perceived light. "I am
amazed! What can be the cause of this phenomenon? What is the
nature of this mysterious halo that surrounds us?" I held my open
hand before my eyes, and perceived the darkness of my spread
fingers. "It is light, it is light," I shouted; "it is really
light!" 

And from near and from far the echoes of that subterranean cavern
answered back joyfully," It is light, it is light!" I wept in joy,
and threw my arms about my guide, forgetting in the ecstasy his
clammy cuticle, and danced in hysterical glee and alternately
laughed and cried. How vividly I realized then that the imprisoned
miner would give a world of gold, his former god, for a ray of
light. 

"Compose yourself; this emotional exhibition is all evidence of
weakness; an investigator should neither become depressed over a
reverse, nor unduly enthusiastic over a fortunate discovery." But
we approach the earth's surface? Soon I will be back in the
sunshine again." "Upon the contrary, we have been continually
descending into the earth, and we are now ten miles or more beneath
the level of the ocean." I shrank back, hesitated, and in
despondency gazed at his hazy outline, then, as if palsied, sank
upon the stony floor; but as I saw the light before me, I leaped up
and shouted: "What you say is not true; we approach daylight, I can
see your form."

"Listen to me," he said. "Can not you understand that I have led
you continually down a steep descent, and that for hours there has
been no step upward? With but little exertion you have walked this
distance without becoming wearied, and you could not, without great
fatigue, have ascended for so long a period. You are entering a
zone of inner earth light; we are in the surface, the upper edge of
it. Let us hasten on, for when this cavern darkness is at an end-
and I will say we have nearly passed that limit - your courage will
return, and then we will rest."

"You surely do not speak the truth; science and philosophy, and I
am somewhat versed in both, have never told me of such a light."
"Can philosophers more than speculate about that which they have
not experienced if they have no data from which to calculate? Name
the student in science who has reached this depth in earth, or has
seen a man to tell him of these facts?" "I can not." 

"Then why should you have expected any of them to describe our
surroundings? Misguided men will torture science by refuting facts
with theories; but a fact is no less a fact when science opposes."
I recognized the force of his arguments, and cordially grasped his
hand in indication of submission. We continued our journey, and
rapidly traveled downward and onward. The light gradually increased
in intensity, until at length the cavern near about us seemed to be
as bright as diffused daylight could leave made it.

There was apparently no central point of radiation; the light was
such as to pervade and exist in the surrounding space, somewhat as
the vapor of phosphorus spreads a self-luminous haze throughout the
bubble into which it is blown. The visual agent surrounding us had
a permanent, self-existing luminosity, and was a pervading, bright,
unreachable essence that, without an obvious origin, diffused
itself equally in all directions.

It reminded me of the form of light that in previous years I had
seen described as epipolic dispersion, and as I refer to the matter
I am of the opinion that man will yet find that the same cause
produces both phenomena. I was informed now by the sense of sight,
that we were in a cavern room of considerable size. The apartment
presented somewhat the appearance of the usual underground caverns
that I had seen pictured in books, and yet was different. 

Stalactites, stalagmites, saline incrustations, occurring
occasionally reminded me of travelers' stories, but these objects
were not so abundant as might be supposed. Such accretions or
deposits of saline substances as I noticed were also disappointing,
in that, instead of having a dazzling brilliancy, like frosted snow
crystals, they were of a uniform gray or brown hue. Indeed, my
former imaginative mental creations regarding underground caverns
were dispelled in this somber stone temple, for even the floor and
the fragments of stone that, in considerable quantities, strewed
the floor, were of the usual rock formations of upper earth.

The glittering crystals of snowy white or rain bow tints (fairy
caverns) pictured by travelers, and described as inexpressibly
grand and beautiful in other cavern labyrinths, were wanting here,
and I saw only occasional small clusters of quartz crystals that
were other than of a dull gray color. Finally; after hours or
perhaps days of travel, interspersed with restings, conversations,
and arguments, amid which I could form no idea of the flight of
time, my companion seated himself on a natural bench of stone, and
directed me to rest likewise.

He broke the silence, and spoke as follows:


CHAPTER XVI.
VITALIZED DARKNESS.
THE NARROWS OF SCIENCE.

"In studying any branch of science men begin and end with an
unknown. The chemist accepts as data such conditions of matter as
he finds about him, and connects ponderable matter with the
displays of energy that have impressed his senses, building
therefrom a span of theoretical science, but he can not formulate
as yet an explanation regarding the origin or the end of either
mind, matter, or energy. The piers supporting his fabric stand in
a profound invisible gulf, into which even his imagination can not
look to form a theory concerning basic formations - cornerstones. 

"The geologist, in a like manner, grasps feebly the lessons left in
the superficial fragments of earth strata, impressions that remain
to bear imperfect record of a few of the disturbances that have
affected the earth's crust, and he endeavors to formulate a story
of the world's life, but he is neither able to antedate the records
shown by the meager testimony at his command, scraps of a leaf out
of God's great book of history, nor to anticipate coming events. 

The birth, as well as the death, of this planet is beyond his page.
"The astronomer directs his telescope to the heavens, records the
position of the planets, and hopes to discover the influences
worlds exert upon one another. He explores space to obtain data to
enable him to delineate a map of the visible solar universe, but
the instruments he has at command are so imperfect, and mind is so
feeble that, like mockery seems his attempt to study behind the
facts connected with the motions and conditions of the nearest
heavenly bodies, and he can not offer an explanation of the
beginning or cessation of their movements.

He calls neither account for their existence, nor foretell their
end." "Are you not mistaken?" I interrupted; "does not the
astronomer foretell eclipses, and calculate the orbits of the
planets, and has he not verified predictions concerning their
several motions?" "Yes; but this is simply a study of passing
events. The astronomer is no more capable of grasping an idea that
reaches into an explanation of the origin of motion, than the
chemist or physicist, from exact scientific data, can account for
the creation of matter.

Give him any amount of material at rest, and he can not conceive of
any method by which motion can disturb any part of it, unless such
motion be mass motion communicated from without, or molecular
motion, already existing within. He accounts for the phases of
present motion in heavenly bodies, not for the primal cause of the
actual movements or intrinsic properties they possess. He can
neither originate a theory that will permit of motion creating
itself, and imparting itself to quiescent matter, nor imagine how
an atom of quiescent matter can be moved, unless motion from
without be communicated thereto.

The astronomer, I assert, can neither from any data at his command
postulate nor prove the beginning nor the end of the reverberating
motion that exists in his solar system, which is itself the
fragment of a system that is circulating and revolving in and about
itself, and in which, since the birth of man, the universe he knows
has not passed the first milestone in the road that universe is
traveling in space immensity.

"The mathematician starts a line from an imaginary point that he
informs us exists theoretically without occupying any space, which
is a contradictions of terms according to his human acceptation of
knowledge derived from scientific experiment, if science is based
on verified facts. He assumes that straight lines exist, which is
a necessity for his calculation; but such a line he has never made.
Even the beam of sunshine, radiating through a clear atmosphere or
a cloud bank, widens and contracts again as it progresses through
the various mediums of air and vapor currents, and if it is ever
spreading and deflecting can it be straight?

He begins his study in the unknown, it ends with the unknowable.
"The biologist can conceive of no rational, scientific beginning to
life of plant or animal, and men of science must admit the fact.
Whenever we turn our attention to nature's laws and nature's
substance, we find. man surrounded by the infinity that obscures
the origin and covers the end. But perseverance, study of nature's
forces, and comparison of the past with the present, will yet
clarify human knowledge and make plain much of this seemingly
mysterious, but never will man reach the beginning or the end.


The course of human education, to this day, has been mostly
materialistic, although, together with the study of matter, there
has been more or less attention given to its moving spirit. Newton
was the dividing light in scientific thought; he stepped between
the reasonings of the past and the provings of the present, and
introduced problems that gave birth to a new scientific tendency,
a change from the study of matter from the material side to that of
force and matter, but his thought has since been carried out in a
mode too realistic by far.

The study of material bodies has given way, it is true, in a few
cases to the study of the spirit of matter, and evolution is
beginning to teach men that matter is crude. As a result, thought
will in its sequence yet show that modifications of energy
expression are paramount. This work is not lost, however, for the
consideration of the nature of sensible material, is preliminary
and necessary to progression (as the life of the savage prepares
the way for that of the cultivated student), and is a meager and
primitive child's effort, compared with the richness of the study
in unseen energy expressions that are linked with matter, of which
men will yet learn."

"I comprehend some of this,"I replied; "but I am neither prepared
to assent to nor dissent from your conclusions, and my mind is not
clear as to whether your logic is good or bad. I am more ready to
speak plainly about my own peculiar situation than to become
absorbed in abstruse arguments in science, and I marvel more at the
soft light that is here surrounding us than at the metaphysical
reasoning in which you indulge."

"The child ignorant of letters wonders at the resources of those
who can spell and read, and, in like manner, many obscure natural
phenomena are marvelous to man only because of his ignorance. You
do not comprehend the fact that sunlight is simply a matter-bred
expression, an outburst of interrupted energy, and that the
modification this energy undergoes makes it visible or sensible to
man.

What, think you, becomes of the flood of light energy that
unceasingly flows from the sun? For ages, for an eternity, it has
bathed this earth and seemingly streamed into space, and space it
would seem must have long since have been filled with it, if, as
men believe, space contains energy of any description. Man may say
the earth casts the amount intercepted by it back into space, and
yet does not your science teach that the great bulk of the earth is
an absorber, and a poor radiator of light and heat?

What think you, I repeat, becomes of the torrent of light and heat
and other forces that radiate from the sun, the flood that strikes
the earth? It disappears, and, in the economy of nature, is not
replaced by any known force or any known motion of matter. Think
you that earth substance really presents an obstacle to the passage
of the sun's energy? Is it not probable that most of this light
producing essence, as a subtle fluid, passes through the surface of
the earth and into its interior, as light does through space, and
returns thence to the sun again, in a condition not discernible by
man?"

He grasped my arm and squeezed it as though to emphasize the words
to follow. "You have used the term sunshine freely; tell me what is
sunshine? Ah! you do not reply; well, what evidence have you to
show that sunshine (heat and light) is not earth-bred, a condition
that exists locally only, the result of contact between matter and
some unknown force expression?

What reason have you for accepting that, to other forms unknown and
yet transparent to this energy, your sunshine may not be as
intangible as the ether of space is to man? What reason have you to
believe that a force torrent is not circulating to and from the sun
and earth, inappreciable to man, excepting the mere trace of this
force which, modified by contact action with matter appears as
heat, light, and other force expressions?

How can I, if this is true, in consideration of your ignorance,
enter into details explanatory of the action that takes place
between matter and a portion of this force, whereby in the earth,
first at the surface, darkness is produced, and then deeper down an
earth light that man can perceive by the sense of sight, as you now
realize? I will only say that this luminous appearance about us is
produced by a natural law, whereby the flood of energy, invisible
to man, a something clothed now under the name of darkness, after
streaming into the crust substance of the earth, is at this depth,
revivified, and then is made apparent to mortal eye, to be modified
again as it emerges from the opposite earth crust, but not
annihilated.

For my vision, however, this central light is not a necessity; my
physical and mental development is such that the energy of darkness
is communicable; I can respond to its touches on my nerves, and
hence I can guide you in this dark cavern. I am all eye." "Ah!"I
exclaimed, "that reminds me of a remark made by my former guide
who, referring to the instinct of animals, spoke of that as a
natural power undeveloped in man. Is it true that by mental
cultivation a new sense can be evolved whereby darkness may become
as light ?"

"Yes; that which you call light is a form of sensible energy to
which the faculties of animals who live on the surface of the earth
have become adapted, through their organs of sight. The sun's
energy is modified when it strikes the surface of the earth; part
is reflected, but most of it passes onward into the earth's
substance, in an altered or disturbed condition. Animal organisms
within the earth must possess a peculiar development to utilize it
under its new form, but such a sense is really possessed in a
degree by some creatures known to men.

There is consciousness behind consciousness; there are grades and
depths of consciousness. Earth worms, and some fishes and reptiles
in underground streams (lower organizations, men call them) do not
use the organ of sight, but recognize objects, seek their food, and
flee from their enemies." "They have no eyes," I exclaimed,
forgetting that I spoke to an eyeless being; "how can they see?"
"You should reflect that man can not offer a satisfactory
explanation of the fact that he can see with his eyes. In one
respect, these so-called lower creatures are higher in the scale of
life than man is, for they see (appreciate) without eyes.

The surfaces of their bodies really are sources of perception, and
seats of consciousness. Man must yet learn to see with his skin,
taste with his fingers, and hear with the surface of his body. The
dissected nerve, or the pupil of man's eye, offers to the
physiologist no explanation of its intrinsic power. Is not man
unfortunate in having to risk so much on so frail an organ? The
physiologist can not tell why or how the nerve of the tongue can
distinguish between bitter and sweet, or convey any impression of
taste, or why the nerve of the ear communicates sound, or the nerve
of the eye communicates the impression of sight.

There is an impassable barrier behind all forms of nerve
impressions, that neither the microscope nor other methods of
investigation can help the reasoning senses of man to remove. The
void that separates the pulp of the material nerve from
consciousness is broader than the solar universe, for even from the
most distant known star we can imagine the never-ending flight of
a ray of light, that has once started on its travels into space. 

Can any man outline the bridge that connects the intellect with
nerve or brain, mind, or with any form of matter? The fact that the
surface of the bodies of some animals is capable of performing the
same functions for these animals that the eye of man performs for
him, is not more mysterious than is the function of that eye
itself. The term darkness is an expression used to denote the fact
that to the brain which governs the eye of man, what man calls the
absence of light, is unrecognizable.

If men were more magnanimous and less egotistical, they would open
their minds to the fact that some animals really possess certain
senses that are better developed than they are in man. The teachers
of men too often tell the little they know and neglect the great
unseen. The cat tribe, some night birds, and many reptiles can see
better in darkness than in daylight. Let man compare with the nerve
expanse of his own eye that of the highly developed eye of any such
creature, and he will understand that the difference is one of
brain or intellect, and not altogether one of optical vision
surface.

When men are able to explain how light can affect the nerves of
their own eyes and produce such an effect on distant brain tissues
as to bring to his senses objects that he is not touching, he may
be able to explain how the energy in darkness can affect the nerve
of the eye in the owl and impress vision on the brain of that
creature. Should not man's inferior sense of light lead him to
question if, instead of deficient visual power, there be not a
deficiency of the brain capacity of man?

Instead of accepting that the eye of man is incapable of receiving
the impression of night energy, and making no endeavor to improve
himself in the direction of his imperfection, man should reflect
whether or not his brain may, by proper cultivation or artificial
stimulus, be yet developed so as to receive yet deeper nerve
impressions, thereby changing darkness into daylight.

Until man can explain the modus operandi of the senses he now
possesses, he can not consistently question the existence of a
different sight power in other beings, and unquestioned existing
conditions should lead him to hope for a yet higher development in
himself." "This dissertation is interesting, very,"I said.
"Although inclined toward agnosticism, my ideas of a possible
future in consciousness that lies before mankind are broadened. I
therefore accept your reasoning, perhaps because I can not refute
it, neither do I wish to do so. And now I ask again, can not you
explain to me how darkness, as deep as that of midnight, has been
revivified so as to bring this great cavern to my view?"

"That may be made plain at a future time,"he answered; "let us
proceed with our journey." We passed through a dry, well ventilated
apartment. Stalactite formations still existed, indicative of
former periods of water drippings, but as we journeyed onward I saw
no evidence of present percolations, and the developing and erosive
agencies that had worked in ages past must long ago have been
suspended. The floor was of solid stone, entirely free from loose
earth and fallen rocky fragments. It was smooth upon the surface,
but generally disposed in gentle undulations.

The peculiar, soft, radiant light to which my guide referred as
"vitalized darkness"or "revivified sunshine," pervaded all the
space about me, but I could not by its agency distinguish the
sides, of the vast cavern. The brightness was of a species that
while it brought into distinctness objects that were near at hand,
lost its unfolding power or vigor a short distance beyond. I would
compare the effect to that of a bright light shining through a
dense fog, were it not that the medium about us was, transparent -
not milky.

The light shrunk into nothingness. It passed from existence behind
and about me as if it were annihilated, without wasting away in the
opalescent appearance once familiar as that of a spreading fog.
Moreover, it seemed to detail such objects as were within the
compass of a certain area close about me, but to lose in intensity
beyond. The buttons on my coat appeared as distinct as they ever
did when I stood in the sunlight, and fully one-half larger than I
formerly knew to be.

The corrugations on the palms of my hands stood out in bold
serpentine relief that I observed clearly when I held my hands near
my eye, my fingers appeared clumsy, and all parts of my person were
magnified in proportion. The region at the limits of my range of
perception reminded me of nothingness, but not of darkness. A
circle of obliteration defined the border of the luminous belt
which advanced as we proceeded, and closed in behind us. This line,
or rather zone of demarkation that separated the seen from the
unseen, appeared to be about two hundred feet away, but it might
have been more or less, as I had no method of measuring distances.


CHAPTER XVII
THE FUNGUS FOREST
ENCHANTMENT

Along the chamber through which we now passed I saw by the mellow
light great pillars, capped with umbrella-like covers, some of them
reminding me of the common toadstool of upper Earth, on a
magnificent scale. Instead, however, of the grey and somber shades
to which I had been accustomed, these objects were of various hues
and combined the brillancy of the primary prismatic colors, with
the purity of clean snow.

Now they would stand solitary, like sentinels; again they would be
arranged in rows, the alingement as true as if established by the
hair of a transit, forming columnar avenues, and in other
situations they were wedged together so as to produce masses, acres
in extent, in which the stems became hexagonal by compression. The
columnar stems, larger than my body, were often spiral; again they
were marked by diamond-shaped figures, or other geometrical forms
in relief, beautifully exact, drawn as by a masters hand in rich
and delicately blended colors, on pillars of pure alabaster.

Not a few of the stems showed deep crimson, blue or green, together
with other rich colors combined; over which, as delicate as the
rarest of lace, would be thrown, in white, an enamel-like intracate
tracery, far surpassing in beauty of execution the most exquisite
needle-work I had ever seen. There could be no doubt I was in a
forest of collossal fungi, the species of which are more numerous
than those of upper earth, cryptomatic vegetation.

The expanded heads of these great thallogens were as varied as the
stems I have described, and more so. Far above our path they spread
like beautiful umbrellas, decorated as if by masters from whom the
great painters of upper earth might learn the art of mixing colors.
Their under surfaces were of many different designs, and were of as
many shapes as it is conceivable could be made of combinations of
the circle of hyperbola. Stately and picturesque, silent and
immovable as the sphinx, they studded the great cavern singly or in
groups, reminding me of a grown childs wild imagination of a fairy
land.

I stopped by a group which was of unusual conspicuity and gazed in
admiration on the huge and yet graceful, beautiful spectacle. I
placed my hand on the stem of one plant, and found it soft and
impressable; but instead of being moist, cold and clammy as the
repulsive toadstool of upper earth, I discovered, to my surprise,
that it was pleasantly warm, and soft as velvet. Smell your hand,
said my guide.

I did so, and breathed in an aroma like that of fresh strawberries.
My guide observed (I had learned to judge of his emotions by his
facial expressions) my surprised countenance with indifference. Try
the next one, he said. This being of a different species, when
rubbed by my hand exhaled the odor of the pineapple. Extraordinary,
I mused.

Not at all. Should productions of surface earth have a monopoly of
natures methods, all the flavors, all the perfumes? You may with
equal consistency express astonishment at the odors of the fruits
of upper earth if you do so at the fragrance of these vegetables,
for they are also created of odorless elements. But toadstools are
foul elements of low organization. They are neither animals nor
true vegetables, but occupy a station below that of plants proper,
I said.

You are acquainted with this order of vegetation under the most
unfavorable conditions; out of their native elements these plants
degenerate and become then abnormal, often evolving into the
poisonous earth fungi known to your woods and fields. Here they
grow to perfection. This is their chosen habitat. They absorb from
a pure atmosphere the combined foods of plants and animals, and
during their existence meet no scorching sunrise. They flourish in
a region of perfect tranquility, and without a tremor, without
experiencing the change of a fraction of a degree of temperature,
exist for ages.

Many of these specimens are probably thousands of years old, and
are still growing; why should they ever die? They have never been
disturbed by a breath of moving air, and, balanced exactly on their
succulent, pedestal-like stems, surrounded by an atmosphere of dead
nitrogen, vapor, and other gases, with their roots imbedded in
carbonates and minerals, they have food at command, nutrition
inexhaustible. Still, I do not see why they grow to such mammoth
proportions. Plants adapt themselves to surrounding conditions, he
remarked.

The oak tree in its proper latitude is tall and stately; trace it
toward the Arctic circle, and it becomes knotted, gnarled,
rheumatic, and dwindles to a shrub. The castor plant in the tropics
is twenty or thirty feet in height, in the temperate zone it is a
herbaceous plant, farther North it has no existence. Indian corn in
Kentucky is luxurient, tall, and graceful, and each stalk is
supplied with roots to the second and third joint, while in the
northland it scarcely reaches to the shoulder of a man, and, in
order to escape the early northern frost, arrives at maturity
before the more southern variety begins to tassel.

The common jimson weed (datura stramonium) planted in earlyspring,
in rich soil, grows luxuriently, covers a broad expanse and bears
an abundance of fruit; planted in midsummer it blossoms when but a
few inches in height, and between two terminal leaves hastens to
produce a single capsule on the apex of the short stem, in order to
ripen its seed before the frost appears. These and other familiar
examples might be cited concerning the difference some species of
vegetation of your former land undergo under climatic conditions
less marked than between those that govern the growth of fungi here
and on surface earth.

Such specimens of fungi as grow in your former home have escaped
from these underground regions, and are as much out of place as are
the tropical plants transplanted to the edge of eternal snow.
Indeed, more so, for on the earth the ordinary fungus, as a rule,
germinates after sunset, and often dies when the sun rises, while
here they may grow in peace eternally. These meandering caverns
comprise thousands of miles of surface covered by these growths
which may yet fulfill a grand purpose in the ceremony of nature,
for they are destined to feed tramping multitudes when the day
appears in which the nations of men will desert the surface of the
earth and pass as a single people through these caverns on their
way to the immaculate existence to be found in the inner sphere.

I cannot disprove your statement, I again repeated; neither do I
accept it. However, it still seems to me unnatural to find such
delicious flavors and delicate odors connected with objects
associated in memory with things insipid, or so disagreeable as
toadstools and rank forest fungi which I abhorred on earth.


CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FOOD OF MAN.

This leads me to remark, answered the eyeless seer, that you speak
without due consideration of previous experience. You are, or
should be, aware of other and as marked differences in food
products of upper Earth, induced by climate, soil, and cultivation.
The potato which, next to wheat, rice or corn, you know supplies
nations of men with starchy food, originated as a wild weed in
South America and Mexico, where it yet exists as a small, watery,
marble-like tuber, and its nearest kindred, botanically, is still
poisonous.

The luscious apple reached its present excellence by slow stages
from knotty, wild astringent fruit, to which it again returns when
excaped from cultivation. The cucumber is a near cousin of the
griping, medicinal cathartic bitter-apple, or colocynth, and
occasionally partakes yet of the properties that result from that
unfortunate alliance, as too often exemplified to persons who do
not peel it deep enough to remove the bitter, cathartic principle
that exists near the surface.

Oranges, in their wild condition, are bitter, and are used
principally as medicinal agents. Asparagus was once a weed, native
to the salty edges of the sea, and as this weed has become a food,
so it is possible for other wild weeds yet to do so. Buckwheat is
a weed proper, and not a cereal, and birds have learned that the
seeds of many other weeds are even preferable to wheat. The wild
parsnip is a poison, and the parsnip of cultivation relapses
quickly into its natural condition if allowed to escape and roam
again.

The root of a tapioca plant contains a volatile poison, and is
deadly; but when that same root is properly prepared, it becomes a
wholesome food, tapioca. The nut of the African anacardium (cashew
nut) contains a nourishing kernal that is eaten as food by the
natives, and yet a drop of the juice of the oily shell upon the
skin will blister and produce terrible inflammations; only those
expert in the removal of the kernal dare partake of the food.

The berry of the berberis vulgaris is a pleasant acid fruit; the
bough that bears it is intensely bitter. Such examples might be
multiplied indefinitely, but I have cited enough to illustrate the
fact that neither the difference in size and structure of the
species in the mushroom forest through which we are passing, nor
the conditions of these bodies, as compared with those you formerly
knew, need excite your astonishment.

Cultivate a potato in your former home so that the growing tuber is
exposed to sunshine, and it becomes green and acrid, and strongly
virulent. Cultivate the spores of the intra-earth fungi about us,
on the face of the Earth, and although now all parts of the plant
are edible, the species will degenerate, and may even become
poisonous. They lose their flavor under such unfavorable
conditions, and although some species still retain vitality enough
to resist poisonous degeneration, they dwindle in size, and adapt
themselves to new and unnatural conditions.

They have all degenerated. Here they live on water, pure nitrogen
and its modifications, grasping with their roots the carbon of
disintegrated limestone, affiliating these substances, and evolving
from these substances rich and delicate flavors, far superior to
the flavor of earth substance foods. On the surface of the earth,
after they become abnormal, they live only on dead and devitalized
organic matter, having lost the power of assimilating elementary
matter.

They then partake of the nature of animals, breathe oxygen and
exhale carbonic acid, as animals do, being the reverse of other
plant existences. Here they breathe oxygen, nitrogen and the vapor
of water; but exhale some of the carbon in combination with
hydrogen, thus evolving these delicate ethereal essences instead of
the poisonous gas, carbonic acid. Their substance is here made up
of all the elements necessary for the support of animal life;
nitrogen to make up muscle, carbon and hydrogen for fat, lime and
bone. The fungoid forest could feed a multitude.

It is probable that in the time to come when man deserts the bleak
earth surface, as he will someday be forced to do, as has been the
case with frozen planets that are not now inhabited on the frozen
crust; nations will march through these spaces on their way from
the dreary outside earth to the delights of the salubrious inner
sphere. Here then, when that day of necessity appears, as it surely
will come under inflexible climatic changes that will control the
destiny of outer earth life, these constantly increasing stores
adapted to nourish humanity, will be found accumulated and ready
for food.

You have already eaten of them, for the variety of food which I
supplied you has been selected from different portions of these
nourishing products which, flavored and salted, ready for use as
food, stand intermediate between animal and vegetable, supplying
the place of both. My instructor placed both hands upon my
shoulders, and in silence I stood gazing intently into his face.
Then, in a smooth, captivating, entrancing manner, he continued:
Can you not see that food is not matter?

The material part of bread is carbon, water, gas and earth; the
material part of fat is charcoal and gas; the material part of
flesh is water and gas, the material part of fruits is mostly water
with a little charcoal and gas. The material constituents of all
foods are plentiful, they abound everywhere, and yet amid the
unlimited, unorganized materials that go to form foods man would
starve.

Give a healthy man a diet of charcoal, water, lime salts, and air;
say to him Bread contains no other substance, here is bread, the
material food of man, live on this food, and yet the man, if he eat
of these, will die with his stomach distended. So with all other
foods; give man the unorganized material constituents of food in
unlimited amounts, and starvation results. No! Matter is not food,
but a carrier of food.

What is food? Sunshine. The grain of wheat is a food by virtue of
the sunshine fixed within it. The flesh of animals, the food of
living creatures, are simply carriers of sunshine energy. Break out
the sunshine and you destroy the food, although the material
remains. The growing plant locks the sunshine in its cells, and the
living animal takes it out again. Hence it is that after the
sunshine of any food is liberated during the metamorphosis of the
tissues of an animal although the material part of the food
remains, it is no longer a food, but becomes a poison, and then, if
it is not properly eliminated from the animal, it will destroy the
life of the animal.

The material then becomes injurious, but it is still material. The
farmer plants a seed in the soil, the sunshine sprouts it,
nourishes the growing plant, and during the season locks itself to
and within its tissues, binding the otherwise dead materials of
that tissue together into an organized structure. Animals eat these
structures, break them from higher to lower compounds, and in doing
so live on the stored up sunshine and then excrete the worthless
material side of the food.

The farmer spreads these excluded substances over the earth again
to once more take up the sunshine in the growing plant
organization, but not until it does once more lock in its cells the
energy of sunshine can it be a food for that animal. Is manure a
food? he abruptly asked. No. Is not manure matter? Yes. May it not
become food again, as a part of another plant, when another season
passes? Yes. In what else than energy (sunshine) does it differ
from food? Water is a necessity, I said. And locked in each
molecule of water there is a mine of sunshine. 

Liberate suddenly the sun energy from the gases of the ocean held
in subjection thereby, and the Earth would disappear in an
explosion that would reverberate throught the universe. The water
that you truly claim to be necessary to the life of man, is itself
water by the grace of this same sun, for without its heat water
would be ice, dry as dust. Tis the sun that gives life and motion
to creatures animate and substances inanimate; he who doubts
distrusts his Creator.

Food and drink are only carriers of bits of assimilable sunshine.
When the fire worshippers kneeled to their god, the sun, they
worshipped the great food reservoir of man. When they drew the
quivering entrails from the body of a sacrificed victim they gave
back to their God a spark of sunshine - it was due sooner or later.
They builded well in recognizing the source of all life, and yet
they acted badly, for their God asked no premature sacrifice, the
inevitable must soon occur, and as all organic life comes to the
Sun-God, so back to that the sun-spark must fly.

But they are heathen; there is a God beyond their narrow conception
of God. As there is also a God in the Beyond, past your idea of
God. Perhaps to beings of higher mentalities, we may be heathen;
but even if this is so, duty demands that we revere God within our
intellectual sphere. Let us not digress further; the subject now is
food, not the Supreme Creator, and I say to you the food of man and
the organic life of man is sunshine. He ceased, and I reflected
upon his words.

All he had said seemed so consistent that I could not deny its
plausability, and yet it still appeared altogether unlikely as
viewed in the light of my previous earth knowledge. I did not quite
comprehend all the semi-scientific expressions, but was at least
certain that I could neither disprove nor verify his propositions.
My thoughts wandered aimlessly, and I found myself questioning
whether man could be prevailied upon to live contentedly in
situations such as I was now passing through. In company with my
learned and philosophical but fantastically created monitor, I
moved on.


CHAPTER XIX.
THE CRY FROM A DISTANCE
I REBEL AGAINST CONTINUING THE JOURNEY. 

As we paced along, meditating, I became more sensibly impressed
with the fact that our progress was down a rapid declination. The
saline incrustations, fungi and stalagmites, rapidly changed in
appearance, an endless variety of stony figures and vegetable
cryptogams recurring successively before my eyes. They bore the
shape of trees, shrubs, or animals, fixed and silent as statues: at
least in my distorted condition of mind I could make out
resemblances to many such familiar objects; the floor of the cavern
became increasingly steeper, as was shown by the stalactites,
which, hanging here and there from the invisible ceiling, made a
decided angle with the floor, corresponding with a similar angle of
the stalagmites below.

Like an accompanying and encircling halo the ever present earth
light enveloped us, opening in front as we advanced, and vanishing
in the rear. The sound of our footsteps gave back a peculiar,
indescribable hollow echo, and our voices sounded ghostlike and
unearthly, as if their origin was outside of our bodies, and at a
distance. The peculiar resonance reminded me of noises
reverberating in an empty cask or cistern. I was oppressed by an
indescribable feeling of mystery and awe that grew deep and
intense, until at last I could no longer bear the mental strain. 

"Hold, hold," I shouted, or tried to shout, and stopped suddenly,
for although I had cried aloud, no sound escaped my lips. Then from
a distance could I believe my senses ? from a distance as an echo,
the cry came back in the tones of my own voice, "Hold, hold."
"Speak lower,"said my guide, "speak very low, for now an effort
such as you have made projects your voice far outside your body;
the greater the exertion the farther away it appears." I grasped
him by the arm and said slowly, determinedly, and in a suppressed
tone: "I have come far enough into the secret caverns of the Earth,
without knowing our destination; acquaint me now with the object of
this mysterious journey, I demand, and at once relieve this sense
of uncertainty; otherwise I shall go no farther."

"You are to proceed to the Sphere of Rest with me,"he replied, "and
in safety. Beyond that an Unknown Country lies, into which I have
never ventured." "You speak in enigmas; what is this Sphere of
Rest? Where is it?" "Your eyes have never seen anything similar;
human philosophy has no conception of it, and I can not describe
it," he said. "It is located in the body of the earth, and we will
meet it about one thousand miles beyond the North Pole." "But I am
in Kentucky," I replied; "do you think that I propose to walk to
the North Pole, man - if man you be; that unreached goal is
thousands of miles away."

"True," he answered, "as you measure distance on the surface of the
earth, and you could not walk it in years of time; but you are now
twenty-five miles below the surface, and you must be aware that
instead of becoming more weary as we proceed, you are now and have
for some time been gaining strength. I would also call to your
attention that you neither hunger nor thirst." "Proceed," I said,
"tis useless to rebel; I am wholly in your power," and we resumed
our journey, and rapidly went forward amid silences that were to me
painful beyond description. We abruptly entered a cavern of
crystal, every portion of which was of sparkling brilliancy, and as
white as snow. The stalactites, stalagmites and fungi disappeared.
I picked up a fragment of the bright material, tasted it, and found
that it resembled pure salt.

Monstrous, cubical crystals, a foot or more in diameter, stood out
in bold relief, accumulations of them, as conglomerated masses,
banked up here and there, making parts of great columnar cliffs,
while in other formations the crystals were small, resembling in
the aggregate masses of white sandstone. "Is not this salt?" I
asked.

"Yes; we are now in the dried bed of an underground lake." "Dried
bed?" I exclaimed; "a body of water sealed in the earth can not
evaporate." "It has not evaporated; at some remote period the water
has been abstracted from the salt, and probably has escaped upon
the surface of the earth as a fresh water spring." "You contradict
all laws of hydrostatics, as I understand that subject," I replied,
"when you speak of abstracting water from a dissolved substance
that is part of a liquid, and thus leaving the solids."

"Nevertheless this is a constant act of nature," said he; "how else
can you rationally account for the great salt beds and other
deposits of saline materials that exist hermetically sealed beneath
the earth's surface?" "I will confess that I have not given the
subject much thought; I simply accept the usual explanation to the
effect that salty seas have lost their water by evaporation, and
afterward the salt formations, by some convulsions of nature, have
been covered with earth, perhaps sinking by earthquake convulsions
bodily into the earth." "These explanations are examples of some of
the erroneous views of scientific writers," he replied; "they are
true only to a limited extent. The great beds of salt, deep in the
earth, are usually accumulations left there by water that is drawn
from brine lakes, from which the liberated water often escaped as
pure spring water at the surface of the earth.

It does not escape by evaporation, at least not until it reaches
the earth's surface."


INTERLUDE- THE STORY INTERRUPTED.

CHAPTER XX.
MY UNBIDDEN GUEST PROVES HIS STATEMENT AND REFUTES MY PHILOSOPHY 

Let the reader who has followed this strange story which I am
directed to title "The End of Earth," and who, in imagination, has
traversed the cavernous passages of the underworld and listened to
the conversation of those two personages who journeyed towards the
secrets of the Beyond, return now to upper earth, and once more
enter my secluded lodgings, the home of Llewellen Drury, him who
listened to the aged guest and who claims your present attention.

Remember that I relate a story within a story. That importunate
guest of mine, of the glittering knife and the silvery hair, like
another Ancient Mariner, had constrained me to listen to his
narrative, as he read it aloud to me from the manuscript. I
patiently heard chapter after chapter, generally with pleasure,
often with surprise, sometimes with incredulity, or downright
dissent.

Much of the narrative, I must say,- yes, most of it, appeared
possible, if not probable, as taken in its connected sequence. The
scientific sections were not uninteresting; the marvels of the
fungus groves, the properties of the inner light, I was not
disinclined to accept as true to natural laws; but when
The-Man-Who-Did-It came to tell of the intra-earth salt deposits,
and to explain the cause of the disappearance of lakes that
formerly existed underground, and their simultaneous replacement by
beds of salt, my credulity was overstrained.

"Permit me to interrupt your narrative,"I remarked, and then in
response to my request the venerable guest laid down his paper.
"Well?" he said, interrogatively. "I do not believe that last
statement concerning the salt lake, and, to speak plainly, I would
not have accepted it as you did, even had I been in your
situation." "To what do you allude?" he asked. "The physical
abstraction of water from the salt of a solution of salt; I do not
believe it possible unless by evaporation of the water."

"You seem to accept as conclusive the statements of men who have
never investigated beneath the surface in these directions, and you
question the evidence of a man who has seen the phenomenon. I
presume you accept the prevailing notions about salt beds, as you
do the assertion that liquids seek a common level, which your
scientific authorities also teach as a law of nature?" "Yes; I do
believe that liquids seek a common level, and I am willing to
credit your other improbable statements if you can demonstrate the
principle of liquid equilibrium to be untrue."

"Then," said he, "tomorrow evening I will show you that fluids seek
different levels, and also explain to you how liquids may leave the
solids they hold in solution without evaporating from them." He
arose and abruptly departed. It was near morning, and yet I sat in
my room alone pondering the story of my unique guest until I slept
to dream of caverns and seances until daylight, when I was awakened
by their vividness. The fire was out, the room was cold, and,
shivering in nervous exhaustion, I crept into bed to sleep and
dream again of horrible things I can not describe, but which made
me shudder in affright at their recollection.

Late in the day I awoke. On the following evening my persevering
teacher appeared punctually, and displayed a few glass tubes and
some blotting or bibulous paper. "I will first show you that
liquids may change their levels in opposition to the accepted laws
of men, not contrary to nature's laws; however, let me lead to the
experiments by a statement of facts, that, if you question, you can
investigate at any time. If two vessels of water be connected by a
channel from the bottom of each, the water surfaces will come to a
common level."

He selected a curved glass tube, and poured water into it. The
water assumed the position shown in Figure 11. "You have not shown
me anything new," I said; "my text-books taught me this." "True,
but I have exhibited that which is the foundation of your
philosophy regarding liquids. Let me proceed: "If we pour a
solution of common salt into such a U tube, as I do now, you
perceive that it also rises to the same level in both ends." "Of
course it does:"

"Do not interrupt me. Into one arm of the tube containing the brine
I now carefully pour pure water. You observe that the surfaces do
not seek the same level."(Figure 12.) "Certainly not," I said; "the
weight of the liquid in each arm is the same, however; the columns
balance each other." "Exactly; and on this assumption you base your
assertion that connected liquids of the same gravity must always
seek a common level, but you see from this test that if two liquids
of different gravities be connected from beneath, the surface of
the lighter one will assume a higher level than the surface of the
heavier."

"Agreed; however tortuous the channel that connects them, such must
be the case." "Is it not supposable," said he, "that there might be
two pockets in the earth, one containing salt water, the other
fresh water, which, if joined together, might be represented by
such a figure as this, wherein the water surface would be raised
above that of the brine?" And he drew upon the paper the
accompanying diagram.

"Yes," I admitted; "providing, of course, there was an equal
pressure of air on the surface of each." "Now I will draw a figure
in which one pocket is above the other, and ask you to imagine that
in the lower pocket we have pure water, in the upper pocket brine
(Figure 14); can you bring any theory of your law to bear upon
these liquids so that by connecting them together the water will
rise and run into the brine?" "No," I replied; "connect them, and
then the brine will flow into the water."

"Upon the contrary," he said; "connect them, as innumerable
cavities in the earth are joined, and the water will flow into the
brine." "The assertion is opposed to applied philosophy and common
sense," I said. "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise,
you know to be a maxim with mortals," he replied; "but I must
pardon you; your dogmatic education narrows your judgment. I now
will prove you in error."

He took from his pocket two slender glass tubes, about an eighth of
an inch in bore and four inches in length, each closed at one end,
and stood them in a perforated cork that he placed upon the table.
Into one tube he poured water, and then dissolving some salt in a
cup, poured brine into the other, filling both nearly to the top.

Next he produced a short curved glass tube, to each end of which
was attached a strip of flexible rubber tubing. Then, from a piece
of blotting paper such as is used to blot ink, he cut a narrow
strip and passed it through the arrangement, forming the apparatus
represented by Figure 16. Then he inserted the two tubes (Figure
15) into the rubber, the extremities of the paper being submerged
in the liquids, producing a combination that rested upright in the
cork as shown by Figure 17.

The surfaces of both liquids were at once lowered by reason of the
suction of the bibulous paper, the water decreasing most rapidly,
and soon the creeping liquids met by absorption in the paper, the
point of contact, as the liquids met, being plainly discernable.
Now the old man gently slid the tubes upon each other, raising one
a little, so as to bring the surfaces of the two liquids exactly on
a plane; he then marked the glass at the surface of each with a
pen.

"Observe the result,"he remarked as he replaced the tubes in the
cork with their liquid surfaces on a line. Together we sat and
watched, and soon it became apparent that the surface of the water
had decreased in height as compared with that of the brine. By
fixing my gaze on the ink mark on the glass I also observed that
the brine in the opposing tube was rising. "I will call tomorrow
evening," he said, "and we shall then discover which is true, man's
theory or nature's practice."

Within a short time enough of the water in the tube had been
transferred to the brine to raise its surface considerably above
its former level, the surface of the water being lowered to a
greater degree. (Figure 18) I was discomfited at the result, and
upon his appearance next evening peevishly said to the
experimenter: "I do not know that this is fair." "Have I not
demonstrated that, by properly connecting the liquids, the lighter
flows into the heavier, and raises itself above the former
surface?"

"Yes; but there is no porous paper in the earth." "True; I used
this medium because it was convenient. There are, however, vast
subterranean beds of porous materials, stone, sand, clay, various
other earths, many of which will answer the same purpose. By
perfectly natural laws, on a large scale, such molecular transfer
of liquids is constantly taking place within the earth, and in
these phenomena the law of gravitation seems ignored, and the rule
which man believes from narrow experience, governs the flow of
liquids, is reversed.

The arched porous medium always transfers the lighter liquid into
the heavier one until its surface is raised considerably above that
of the light one. In the same way you can demonstrate that alcohol
passes into water, sulphuric ether into alcohol, and other miscible
light liquids into those heavier." "I have seen you exemplify the
statement on a small scale, with water and brine, and cannot
question but that it is true on a large one," I replied. "So you
admit that the assertion governing the surfaces of liquids is true
only when the liquids are connected from beneath. In other words,
your thought is one-sided, as science thought often is."

"Yes." "Now as to the beds of salt deep within the earth. You are
also mistaken concerning their origin. The water of the ocean that
runs through an open channel from the one side may flow into an
underground lake, that by means of the contact action (suction) of
the overlying and surrounding strata is being continually emptied
of its water, but not its salt. Thus by absorption of water the
brine of the lake in time becomes saturated, starting
crystallization regularly over the floor and sides of the basin.

Eventually the entire cavity is filled with salt, and a solid mass
of rock salt remains. If, however, before the lake becomes solid,
the brine supply is shut off by some natural cause as by salt
crystals closing the passage thereto, the underground lake is at
last drained of its water, the salt crystallizing over the
bottom,and upon the cliffs, leaving great crevices through the
saline deposits, as chances to have been the case with the salt
formations through which I passed with my guide, and have recently
described to you."

"Even now I have my doubts as to the correctness of your
explanations, especially concerning the liquid surfaces." "They are
facts, however; liquids capable of being mixed, if connected by
porous arches (bibulous paper is convenient for illustrating by
experiment) reverse the rule men have accepted to explain the
phenomena of liquid equilibrium, for I repeat, the lighter one
rushes into that which is heavier, and the surface of the heavier
liquid rises. You can try the experiment with alcohol and water,
taking precautions to prevent evaporation, or you can vary the
experiment with solutions of various salts of different densities;
the greater the difference in gravity between the two liquids, the
more rapid will be the flow of the lighter one into the heavier,
and after equilibrium, the greater will be the contrast in the
final height of the resultant liquid surfaces."

"Men will yet explain this effect by natural laws," I said. "Yes,"
he answered; "when they learn the facts; and they will then be able
to solve certain phenomena connected with diffusion processes that
they can not now understand. Did I not tell you that after the fact
had been made plain it was easy to see how Columbus stood the egg
on its end? What I have demonstrated by experiment is perhaps no
new principle in hydrostatics. But I have applied it in a natural
manner to the explanation of obscure natural phenomena, that men
now seek unreasonable methods to explain."

"You may proceed with your narrative. I accept that when certain
liquids are connected, as you have shown, by means of porous
substances, one will pass into the other, and the surface of the
lighter liquid in this case will assume a position below that of
the heavier." "You must also accept," said he, "that when solutions
of salt are subjected to earth attraction, under proper conditions,
the solids may by capillary attraction be left behind, and pure
water finally pass through the porous medium.

Were it not for this law, the only natural surface spring water on
earth would be brine, for the superficial crust of the earth is
filled with saline solutions. All the spring-fed rivers and lakes
would also be salty and fetid with sulphur compounds, for at great
depths brine and foul water are always present. Even in countries
where all the water below the immediate surface of the earth is
briny, the running springs, if of capillary origin, are pure and
fresh.

You may imagine how different this would be were it not for the law
I have cited, for the whole earth's crust is permeated by brine and
saline waters. Did your `philosophy' never lead you to think of
this?" Continuing, my guest argued as follows: "Do not lakes exist
on the earth's surface into which rivers and streams flow, but
which have no visible outlet? Are not such lakes saline, even
though the source of supply is comparatively fresh? Has it never
occurred to you to question whether capillarity - assisted by
surface evaporation (not evaporation only as men assert) is not
separating the water of these lakes from the saline substances
carried into them by the streams, thus producing brine lakes?

Will not this action after a great length of time result in
crystalline deposits over portions of the bottoms of such lakes,
and ultimately produce a salt bed?" "It is possible," I replied.
"Not only possible, but probable. Not only probable, but true.
Across the intervening brute strata above the salt crystals the
surface rivers may flow, indeed, owing to differences in specific
gravity the surface of the lake may be comparatively fresh, while
in the quiet depths below, beds of salt crystals are forming, and
between these extremes may rest strata after strata of saline
solutions, decreasing in gravity towards the top."

Then he took his manuscript, and continued to read in a clear,
musical voice, while I sat a more contented listener than I had
been previously. I was not only confuted, but convinced. And I
recalled the saying of Socrates, that no better fortune can happen
a man than to be confuted in an error.


CHAPTER XXI.
MY WEIGHT IS DISAPPEARING.

We halted suddenly, for we came unexpectedly to the edge of a
precipice, twenty feet at least in depth. "Let us jump down," said
my guide. "That would be dangerous," I answered; "can not we
descend at some point where it is not so deep?" "No; the chasm
stretches for miles across our path, and at this point we will meet
with the least difficulty; besides, there is no danger. The
specific gravity of our bodies is now so little that we could jump
twice that distance with impunity." "I can not comprehend you; we
are in the flesh, our bodies are possessed of weight, the
concussion will be violent."

"You reason again from the condition of your former life, and, as
usual, are mistaken; there will be little shock, for, as I have
said, our bodies are comparatively light now. Have you forgotten
that your motion is continuously accelerated, and that without
perceptible exertion you move rapidly? This is partly because of
the loss of weight. Your weight would now be only about fifty
pounds if tested by a spring balance." I stood incredulous. "You
trifle with me; I weigh over one hundred and fifty pounds; how have
I lost weight?

It is true that I have noticed the ease with which we have recently
progressed on our journey, especially the latter part of it, but I
attribute this, in part, to the fact that our course is down an
incline, and also to the vitalizing power of this cavern air."
"This explains part of the matter," he said; "it answered at the
time, and I stated a fact; but were it not that you are really
consuming a comparatively small amount of energy, you would long
before this have been completely exhausted. You have been gaining
strength for some hours; have really been growing younger.

Your wrinkled face has become more smooth, and your voice is again
natural. You were prematurely aged by your brothers on the surface
of the earth, in order that when you pass the line of gravity, you
might be vigorous and enjoying manhood again. Had this aging
process not been accomplished you would now have become as a child
in many respects."

He halted before me. "Jump up," he said. I promptly obeyed the
unexpected command, and sprung upward with sufficient force to
carry me, as I supposed, six inches from the earth; however I
bounded upward fully six feet. My look of surprise as I gently
alighted, for there was no concussion on my return, seemed lost on
my guide, and he quietly said: "If you can leap six feet upward
without any excessive exertion, or return shock, cannot you jump
twenty feet down? Look!" And he leaped lightly over the precipice
and stood unharmed on the stoney floor below. Even then I
hesitated, observing which, he cried: "Hang by your hands from the
edge then, and drop."

I did so, and the fourteen feet of fall seemed to affect me as
though I had become as light as a cork. I fluttered to the earth as
a leaf would fall, and leaned against the precipice in surprise
meditation. "Others have been through your experience, "He
remarked, "and I therefore can overlook your incredulity; but
experiences such as you now meet, remove distrust. Doing is
believing." He smilied benignly. I pondered, revolving in my mind
the fact that persons had in mental abstraction, passed through
unusual experiences in ignorance of conditions about them, until
their attention had been called to the seen and yet unnoticed
surroundings, and they had then beheld the facts plainly.

The puzzle picture stares the eye and impresses the retina, but is
devoid of character until the hidden form is developed in the mind,
and then that form is always prominent to the eye. My remarkably
light step, now that my attention had been directed thereto, was
constantly in my mind, and I found myself suddenly possessed of the
strength of a man, but with the weight of an infant. I raised my
feet without an effort; they seemed destitute of weight; I leaped
about, tumbled, and rolled over and over on the smooth stone floor
without injury.

It appeared that I had become the airy similitude of my former
self, my material substance having wasted away without a
corresponding impairment of strength. I pinched my flesh to be
assured that all was not a dream, and then endeavored to convince
myself that I was the victim of delirium; but in vain. Too sternly
my self-existence confronted me as a reality, a cruel reality. A
species of intoxication possessed me once more, and I now hoped for
the end, whatever it might be.

We resumed our journey, and rushed on with increasing rapidity,
galloping hand in hand, down, down, ever downward into the
illuminated crevice of the earth. The spectral light by which we
were attreoled increased in intensity, as by arithmetical
progression, and I could now distinguish objects at a considerable
distance before us. My spirits rose as if I were under the
influence of a potent stimulant; a liveliness that was the opposite
of my recent despondency had gained control, and I was again
possessed of a delicious mental sensation, to which I can only
refer as a most rapturous exhilaration.

My guide grasped my hand firmly, and his touch, instead of
revolting me as formerly it had done, gave pleasure. We together
leaped over great inequalities in the floor, performing these
aerial feats almost as easily as a bird flies. Indeed, I felt that
I possessed the power of flight, for we bounded fearlessly down
great declivities and over abysses that were often perpendicular,
and many times our height. A very slight muscular exertion was
sufficient to carry us rods of distance, and almost tiptoeing we
skimmed with ever-increasing speed down the steeps of that unknown
declivity.

At length my guide held back; we gradually lessened our velocity,
and, after a time, rested beside a horizontal substance that lay
before us, apparently a sheet of glass, rigid, immovable,
immeasurably great, that stretched as a level surface before us,
vividly distinct in the brightness of an earth light, that now
proved to be superior to sunshine. Far as the eye could reach, the
glassy barrier to our further progress spread as a crystal mirror
in front, and vanishing in the distance, shut off the beyond.


INTERLUDE.
THE STORY AGAIN INTERRUPTED.

CHAPTER XXII.
MY UNBIDDEN GUEST DEPARTS.

Once more I must presume to interrupt this narrative, and call back
the reader's thoughts from those mysterious caverns through which
we have been tracing the rapid footsteps of the man who was
abducted, and his uncouth pilot of the lower realms. Let us now see
and hear what took place in my room, in Cincinnati, just after my
visitor, known to us as The-Man-Who-Did-It, had finished reading to
me, Lewellyn Drury, the custodian of this manuscript, the curious
chapter relating how the underground explorers lost weight as they
descended in the hollows of the earth.

My French clock struck twelve of its clear silvery notes before the
gray-bearded reader finished his stint for the occasion, and folded
his manuscript preparatory to placing it within his bosom. "It is
past midnight," he said, "and it is time for me to depart; but I
will come to you again within a year. "Meanwhile, during my
absence, search the records, question authorities, and note such
objections as rise therefrom concerning the statements I have made.

Establish or disprove historically, or scientifically, any portion
of the life history that I have given, and when I return I will
hear what you have to say, and meet your argument. If there is a
doubt concerning the authenticity of any part of the history,
investigate; but make no mention to others of the details of our
meetings." I sat some time in thought, then said: "I decline to
concern myself in verifying the historical part of your narrative. 

The localities you mention may be true to name, and it is possible
that you have related a personal history; but I can not perceive
that I am interested in either proving or disproving it. I will
say, however, that it does not seem probable that at any time a man
can disappear from a community, as you claim to have done, and have
been the means of creating a commotion in his neighborhood that
affected political parties, or even led to an unusual local
excitement, outside his immediate circle of acquaintances, for a
man is not of sufficient importance unless he is very conspicuous. 

By your own admission, you were simply a studious mechanic, a
credulous believer in alchemistic vagaries, and as I revolve the
matter over, I am afraid that you are now trying to impose on my
credulity. The story of a forcible abduction, in the manner you
related, seems to me incredible, and not worthy of investigation,
even had I the inclination to concern myself in your personal
affairs.

The statements, how ever, that you make regarding the nature of the
crust of the earth, gravitation, light, instinct, and human senses
are highly interesting, and even plausible as you artfully present
the subjects, I candidly admit, and I shall take some pains to make
inquiries concerning the recorded researches of experts who have
investigated in that direction."

"Collect your evidence," said he, "and I shall listen to your views
when I return." He opened the door, glided away, and I was alone
again.


CHAPTER XXIII.
I QUESTION SCIENTIFIC MEN.
ARISTOTLE'S ETHER.

Days and weeks passed. When the opportunity presented, I consulted
Dr. W. B. Chapman, the druggist and student of science, regarding
the nature of light and earth, who in turn referred me to Prof.
Daniel Vaughn. This learned man, in reply to my question concerning
gravitation, declared that there was much that men wished to
understand in regard to this mighty force, that might yet be
explained, but which may never become known to mortal man.

"The correlation of forces," said he, "was prominently introduced
and considered by a painstaking scientific writer named Joule, in
several papers that appeared between 1843 and I850, and he was
followed by others, who engaged themselves in experimenting and
theorizing, and I may add that Joule was indeed preceded in such
thought by Mayer. This department of scientific study just now
appears of unusual interest to scientists, and your questions
embrace problems connected with some phases of its phenomena. We
believe that light, heat, and electricity are mutually convertible,
in fact, the evidences recently opened up to us show that such must
be the case.

These agencies or manifestations are now known to be so related
that whenever one disappears others spring into existence. Study
the beautiful experiments and remarkable investigations of Sir
William Thomson in these directions." "And what of gravitation?" I
asked, observing that Prof. Vaughn neglected to include gravitation
among his numerous enumerated forces, and recollecting that the
force gravitation was more closely connected with my visitor's
story than perhaps were any of the others, excepting the mysterious
mid-earth illumination.

"Of that force we are in greater ignorance than of the others," he
replied. "It affects bodies terrestrial and celestial, drawing a
material substance, or pressing to the earth; also holds, we
believe, the earth and all other bodies in position in the heavens,
thus maintaining the equilibrium of the planets. Seemingly
gravitation is not derived from, or sustained by, an external
force, or supply reservoir, but is an intrinsic entity, a
characteristic of matter that decreases in intensity at the rate of
the square of the increasing distance, as bodies recede from each
other, or from the surface of the earth.

However, gravitation neither escapes by radiation from bodies nor
needs to be replenished, so far as we know, from without. It may be
compared to an elastic band, but there is no intermediate tangible
substance to influence bodies that are affected by it, and it
remains in undying tension, unlike all elastic material substances
known, neither losing nor acquiring energy as time passes. Unlike
cohesion, or chemical attraction, it exerts its influence upon
bodies that are out of contact, and have no material connection,
and this necessitates a purely fanciful explanation concerning the
medium that conducts such influences, bringing into existence the
illogical, hypothetical, fifth ether, made conspicuous by
Aristotle."

"What of this ether?" I queried. "It is a necessity in science, but
intangible, undemonstrated, unknown, and wholly theoretical. It is
accepted as an existing fluid by scientists, because human theory
can not conceive of a substance capable of, or explain how a
substance can be capable of affecting a separate body unless there
is an intermediate medium to convey force impressions. Hence to
material substances Aristotle added (or at least made conspicuous)
a speculative ether that, he assumed, pervades all space, and all
material bodies as well, in order to account for the passage of
heat and light to and from the sun, stars, and planets."

"Explain further," I requested. "To conceive of such an entity we
must imagine a material that is more evanescent than any known gas,
even in its most diffused condition. It must combine the solidity
of the most perfect conductor of heat (exceeding any known body in
this respect to an infinite degree), with the transparency of an
absolute vacuum. It must neither create friction by contact with
any substance, nor possess attraction for matter; must neither
possess weight (and yet carry the force that produces weight), nor
respond to the influence of any chemical agent, or exhibit itself
to any optical instrument.

It must be invisible, and yet carry the force that produces the
sensation of sight. It must be of such a nature that it can not,
according to our philosophy, affect the corpuscles of earthly
substances while permeating them without contact or friction, and
yet, as a scientific incongruity, it must act so readily on
physical bodies as to convey to the material eye the sensation of
sight, and from the sun to creatures on distant planets it must
carry the heat force, thus giving rise to the sensation of warmth. 

Through this medium, yet without sensible contact with it, worlds
must move, and planetary systems revolve, cutting and piercing it
in every direction, without loss of momentum. And yet, as I have
said, this ether must be in such close contact as to convey to them
the essence that warms the universe, lights the universe, and must
supply the attractive bonds that hold the stellar worlds in
position. A nothing in itself, so far as man's senses indicate, the
ether of space must be denser than iridium, more mobile than any
known liquid, and stronger than the finest steel."

"I can not conceive of such an entity,"I replied. "No; neither can
any man, for the theory is irrational, and can not be supported by
comparison with laws known to man, but the conception is
nevertheless a primary necessity in scientific study. Can man, by
any rational theory, combine a vacuum and a substance, and create
a result that is neither material nor vacuity, neither something
nor nothing, and yet an intensified all; being more attenuated than
the most perfect of known vacuums, and a conductor better than the
densest metal?

This we do when we attempt to describe the scientists'
all-pervading ether of space, and to account for its influence on
matter. This hypothetical ether is, for want of a better theory of
causes, as supreme in philosophy today as the alkahest of the
talented old alchemist Van Helmont was in former times, a universal
spirit that exists in conception, and yet does not exist in
perception, and of which modern science knows as little as its
speculative promulgator, Aristotle, did.

We who pride ourselves on our exact science, smile at some of
Aristotle's statements in other directions, for science has
disproved them, and yet necessity forces us to accept this
illogical ether speculation, which is, perhaps, the most
unreasonable of all theories. Did not this Greek philosopher also
gravely assert that the lion has but one vertebra in his neck; that
the breath of man enters the heart; that the back of the head is
empty, and that man has but eight ribs ?" "Aristotle must have been
a careless observer," I said.

"Yes," he answered; "it would seem so, and science, today, bases
its teachings concerning the passage of all forces from planet to
planet, and sun to sun, on dicta such as I have cited, and no more
reasonable in applied experiment." "And I have been referred to you
as a conscientious scientific teacher," I said; "why do you speak
so facetiously?" "I am well enough versed in what we call science,
to have no fear of injuring the cause by telling the truth, and you
asked a direct question. If your questions carry you farther in the
direction of force studies, accept at once, that, of the intrinsic
constitution of force itself, nothing is known.

Heat, light, magnetism, electricity, galvanism (until recently
known as imponderable bodies) are now considered as modifications
of force; but, in my opinion, the time will come when they will be
known as disturbances." "Disturbances of what?" "I do not know
precisely; but of something that lies behind them all, perhaps
creates them all, but yet is in essence unknown to men."

"Give me a clearer idea of your meaning." "It seems impossible,"he
replied; "I can not find words in which to express myself; I do not
believe that forces, as we know them (imponderable bodies), are as
modern physics defines them. I am tempted to say that, in my
opinion, forces are disturbance expressions of a something with
which we are not acquainted, and yet in which we are submerged and
permeated. Aristotle's ether perhaps.

It seems to me, that, behind all material substances, including
forces, there is an unknown spirit, which, by certain influences,
may be ruffled into the exhibition of an expression, which
exhibition of temper we call a force. From this spirit these force
expressions (wavelets or disturbances) arise, and yet they may
become again quiescent, and again rest in its absorbing unity. The
water from the outlet of a calm lake flows over a gentle decline in
ripples, or quiet undulations, over the rapids in musical
laughings, over a precipice in thunder tones, - always water, each
a different phase, however, to become quiet in another lake (as
ripples in this universe may awaken to our perception, to repose
again), and still be water." He hesitated.

"Go on," I said. "So I sometimes have dared to dream that
gravitation may be the reservoir that conserves the energy for all
mundane forces, and that what we call modifications of force are
intermediate conditions, ripples, rapids, or cascades, in
gravitation." "Continue," I said, eagerly, as he hesitated. He
shook his head. 


CHAPTER XXIV.
THE SOLILOQUY OF PROF. DANIEL VAUGHN.
"GRAVITATION IS THE BEGINNING AND GRAVITATION IS THE END -
ALL EARTHLY BODIES KNEEL TO GRAVITATION."

"Please continue, I am intensely interested; I wish that I could
give you my reasons for the desire; I can not do so, but I beg you
to continue." "I should add,"continued Vaughn, ignoring my remarks,
"that we have established rules to measure the force of
gravitation, and have estimated the decrease of attraction as we
leave the surfaces of the planets. We have made comparative
estimates of the weight of the earth and planets, and have reason
to believe that the force expression of gravitation attains a
maximum at about one-sixth the distance toward the center of the
earth, then decreases, until at the very center of our planet,
matter has no weight.

This, together with the rule I repeated a few moments ago, is about
all we know, or think we know, of gravitation. Gravitation is the
beginning and gravitation is the end; all earthly bodies kneel to
gravitation. I can not imagine a Beyond, and yet gravitation,
"mused the rapt philosopher, "may also be an expression of "- he
hesitated again, forgetting me completely, and leaned his shaggy
head upon his hands. I realized that his mind was lost in
conjecture, and that he was absorbed in the mysteries of the
scientific immensity.

Would he speak again? I could not think of disturbing his reverie,
and minutes passed in silence. Then he slowly, softly, reverently
murmured: "Gravitation, Gravitation, thou art seemingly the one
permanent, ever present earth-bound expression of Omnipotence. Heat
and light come and go, as vapors of water condense into rain and
dissolve into vapor to return again to the atmosphere. Electricity
and magnetism appear and disappear; like summer storms they move in
diversified channels, or even turn and fly from contact with some
bodies, seemingly forbidden to appear, but thou, Gravitation, art
omnipresent and omnipotent.

Thou createst motion, and yet maintainest the equilibrium of all
things mundane and celestial. An attempt to imagine a body
destitute of thy potency, would be to bankrupt and deaden the
material universe. O Gravitation, art thou a voice out of the
Beyond, and are other forces but echoes - tremulous reverberations
that start into life to vibrate for a spell and die in the space
caverns of the universe while thou continuest supreme ?

"His bowed head and rounded shoulders stooped yet lower; he
unconsciously brushed his shaggy locks with his hand, and seemed to
confer with a familiar Being whom others could not see. "A voice
from without," he repeated; "from beyond our realm! Shall the
subtle ears of future scientists catch yet lighter echoes? Will the
brighter thoughts of more gifted men, under such furtherings as the
future may bring, perchance commune with beings who people
immensity, distance disappearing before thy ever-reaching spirit? 

For with thee, who holdest the universe together, space is not
space, and there is no word expressing time. Art thou a voice that
carriest the history of the past from the past unto and into the
present, and for which there is no future, all conditions of time
being as one to thee, thy self covering all and connecting all
together? Art thou, Gravitation, a voice?

If so, there must be a something farther out in those fathomless
caverns, beyond mind imaginings, from which thou comest, for how
could nothingness have formulated itself into a voice? The suns and
universe of suns about us, may be only vacant points in the depths
of an all-pervading entity in which even thyself dost exist as a
momentary echo, linked to substances ponderous, destined to fade
away in the interstellar expanse outside, where disturbances
disappear, and matter and gravitation together die; where all is
pure, quiescent, peaceful and dark.

Gravitation, Gravitation, imperishable Gravitation; thou seemingly
art the ever-pervading, unalterable, but yet moving spirit of a
cosmos of solemn mysteries. Art thou now, in unperceived force
expressions, speaking to dumb humanity of other universes; of suns
and vortices of suns; bringing tidings from the solar planets, or
even infinitely distant star mists, the silent unresolved nebuloc,
and spreading before earth-bound mortal minds, each instant, fresh
tidings from without, that, in ignorance, we can not read?

May not beings, perhaps like ourselves but higher in the scale of
intelligence, those who people some of the planets about us, even
now beckon and try to converse with us through thy subtle, ever
present self? And may not their efforts at communication fail
because of our ignorance of a language they can read? Are not light
and heat, electricity and magnetism plodding, vacillating agents
compared with thy steady existence, and is it even further possible
?"

His voice had gradually lowered, and now it became inaudible; he
was oblivious to my presence, and had gone forth from his own self;
he was lost in matters celestial, and abstractedly continued
unintelligibly to mutter to himself as, brushing his hair from his
forehead, he picked up his well-worn felt hat, and placed it
awkwardly on his shaggy head, and then shuffled away without
bidding me farewell.

The bent form, prematurely shattered by privation; uncouth,
unkempt, typical of suffering and neglect, impressed me with the
fact that in him man's life essence, the immortal mind, had
forgotten the material part of man. The physical half of man, even
of his own being, in Daniel Vaughn's estimation, was an encumbrance
unworthy of serious attention, his spirit communed with the pure in
nature, and to him science was a study of the great Beyond.

[Footnote:] Mr. Drury can not claim to have recorded verbatim Prof.
Vaughn's remarks, but has endeavored to give the substance. His
language was faultless, his word selections beautiful, his
soliloquy impressive beyond description. Perhaps Drury even
misstated an idea, or more than one, evolved then by the great mind
of that patient man. Prof. Daniel Vaughn was fitted for a
scientific throne, a position of the highest honor; but, neglected
by man, proud as a king, he bore uncomplainingly privations most
bitter, and suffered alone until finally he died from starvation
and neglect in the city of his adoption.

Some persons are ready to cry, "Shame! Shame!"at wealthy
Cincinnati; others assert that men could not give to Daniel Vaughn,
and since the first edition of ETIDORIIPA appeared, the undersigned
has learned of one vain attempt to serve the interests of this
peculiar man. He would not beg, and knowing his capacities, if he
could not procure a position in which to earn a living, he
preferred to starve.

The only bitterness of his nature, it is said, went out against
those who, in his opinion, kept from him such employment as returns
a livelihood to scientific men; for he well knew his intellect
earned for him such a right in Cincinnati. Will the spirit of that
great man, talented Daniel Vaughn, bear malice against the people
of the city in which none who knew him will deny that he perished
from cold and privation?

Commemorated is he not by a bust of bronze that distorts the facts
in that the garments are not seedy and unkempt, the figure
stooping, the cheek hollow and the eye pitifully expressive of air
empty stomach? That bust modestly rests in the public library he
loved so well, in which he suffered so uncomplainingly, and starved
so patiently. J.U.L. 

I embraced the first opportunity that presented itself to read the
works that Prof. Vaughn suggested, and sought him more than once to
question further. However, he would not commit himself in regard to
the possible existence of other forces than those with which we are
acquainted, and when I interrogated him as to possibilities in the
study of obscure force expressions, he declined to express an
opinion concerning the subject.

Indeed, I fancied that he believed it probable, or at least not
impossible, that a closer acquaintance with conditions of matter
and energy might be the heirloom of future scientific students. At
last I gave up the subject, convinced that all the information I
was able to obtain from other persons whom I questioned, and whose
answers were prompt and positive, was evolved largely from
ignorance and self-conceit, and such information was insufficient
to satisfy my understanding, or to command my attention.

After hearing Vaughn, all other voices sounded empty. I therefore
applied myself to my daily tasks, and awaited the promised return
of the interesting, though inscrutable being whose subterranean
sojourneying was possibly fraught with so much potential value to
science and to man.


THE UNBIDDEN GUEST RETURNS TO READ HIS MANUSCRIPT,
CONTINUING HIS NARRATIVE.

CHAPTER XXV.
THE MOTHER OF A VOLCANO. 
"YOU CAN NOT DISPROVE, AND YOU DARE NOT ADMIT."

A year from the evening of the departure of the old man, found me
in my room, expecting his presence; and I was not surprised when he
opened the door, and seated himself in his accustomed chair. "Are
you ready to challenge my statements?" he said, taking up the
subject as though our conversation had not been interrupted. "No."
"Do you accept my history?" "No." 

"You can not disprove, and you dare not admit. Is not that your
predicament?" he asked. "You have failed in every endeavor to
discredit the truth, and your would-be scientists, much as they
would like to do so, can not serve you. Now we will continue the
narrative, and I shall await your next attempt to cast a shadow
over the facts."

Then with his usual pleasant smile, he read from his manuscript a
continuation of the intra-earth journey as follows: "Be
seated,"said my eyeless guide, "and I will explain some facts that
may prove of interest in connection with the nature of the
superficial crust of the earth. This crystal liquid spreading
before us is a placid sheet of water, and is the feeder of the
volcano, Mount Epomeo."

"Can that be a surface of water?" I interrogated. "I find it hard
to realize that water can be so immovable. I supposed the substance
before us to be a rigid material, like glass, perhaps." "There is
no wind to ruffle this aqueous surface, - why should it not be
quiescent? This is the only perfectly smooth sheet of water that
you have ever seen. It is in absolute rest, and thus appears a
rigid level plane."

"Grant that your explanation is correct,"I said, "yet I can not
understand how a quiet lake of water can give rise to a convulsion
such as the eruption of a volcano." "Not only is this possible,"he
responded, "but water usually causes the exhibition of phenomena
known as volcanic action. The Island of Ischia, in which the
volcanic crater Epomeo is situated, is connected by a tortuous
crevice with the peaceful pool by which we now stand, and at
periods, separated by great intervals of time, the lake is partly
emptied by a simple natural process, and a part of its water is
expelled above the earth's surface in the form of superheated
steam, which escapes through that distant crater."

"But I see no evidence of heat or even motion of any kind." "Not
here," he replied; "in this place there is none. The energy is
developed thousands of miles away, but since the phenomena of
volcanic action are to be partially explained to you at a future
day, I will leave that matter for the present. We shall cross this
lake." 

I observed as we walked along its edge that the shore of the lake
was precipitous in places, again formed a gradually descending
beach, and the dead silence of the space about us, in connection
with the death-like stillness of that rigid mass of water and its
surroundings, became increasingly impressive and awe-inspiring.
Never before had I seen such a perfectly quiet glass-like surface.
Not a vibration or undulation appeared in any direction. The
solidity of steel was exemplified in its steady, apparently
inflexible contour, and yet the pure element was so transparent
that the bottom of the pool was as clearly defined as the top of
the cavern above me.

The lights and shades of the familiar lakes of Western New York
were wanting here, and it suddenly came to my mind that there were
surface reflections, but no shadows, and musing on this
extraordinary fact, I stood motionless on a jutting cliff absorbed
in meditation, abstractedly gazing down into that transparent
depth. Without sun or moon, without apparent source of light, and
yet perfectly illuminated, the lofty caverns seemed cut by that
aqueous plane into two sections, one above and one below a
transparent, rigid surface line.

The dividing line, or horizontal plane, appeared as much a surface
of air as a surface of water, and the material above that plane
seemed no more nor less a gas, or liquid, than that beneath it. If
two limpid, transparent liquids, immiscible, but of different
gravities, be poured into the same vessel, the line of demarkation
will be as a brilliant mirror, such as I now beheld parting and yet
uniting the surfaces of air and water. Lost in contemplation, I
unconsciously asked the mental question "Where are the shadows?"

My guide replied: "You have been accustomed to lakes on the surface
of the earth; water that is illuminated from above; now you see by
a light that is developed from within and below, as well as from
above. There is no outside point of illumination, for the light of
this cavern, as you know, is neither transmitted through an
overlying atmosphere nor radiated from a luminous center. It is an
inherent quality, and as objects above us and within the lake are
illuminated alike from all sides, there can be no shadows." 

Musingly, I said: "That which has occurred before in this journey
to the unknown country of which I have been advised, seemed
mysterious; but each succeeding step discovers to me another
novelty that is more mysterious, with unlooked-for phenomena that
are more obscure." "This phenomenon is not more of a mystery than
is the fact that light radiates from the sun. Man can not explain
that, and I shall not now attempt to explain this. Both conditions
are attributes of force, but with this distinction-the crude light
and heat of the sun, such as men experience on the surface of the
earth, is here refined and softened, and the characteristic glare
and harshness of the light that is known to those who live on the
earth's surface is absent here.

The solar ray, after penetrating the earth's crust, is tempered and
refined by agencies which we will yet investigate understandingly,
but which we can not now comprehend." "Am I destined to deal with
these problems?" "Only in part." "Are still greater wonders before
us?" "If your courage is sufficient to carry you onward, you have
yet to enter the portal of the expanse we approach." "Lead on, my
friend," I cried; "lead on to these undescribed scenes, the occult
wonderland that" - He interrupted me almost rudely, and in a
serious manner said: "Have you not learned that wonder is an
exemplification of ignorance? The child wonders at a goblin story,
the savage at a trinket, the man of science at an unexplained
manifestation of a previously unperceived natural law; each wonders
in ignorance, because of ignorance.

Accept now that all you have seen from the day of your birth on the
surface of the earth, to the present, and all that you will meet
here are wonderful only because the finite mind of man is confused
with fragments of evidence, that, from whatever direction we meet
them, spring from an unreachable infinity. We will continue our
journey." Proceeding farther along the edge of the lake we came to
a metallic boat.

This my guide picked up as easily as though it were of paper, for
be it remembered that gravitation had slackened its hold here.
Placing it upon the water, he stepped into it, and as directed I
seated myself near the stern, my face to the bow, my back to the
shore. The guide, directly in front of me, gently and very slowly
moved a small lever that rested on a projection before him, and I
gazed intently upon him as we sat together in silence. At last I
became impatient, and asked him if we would not soon begin our
journey.

"We have been on our way since we have been seated," he answered.
I gazed behind with incredulity: the shore had disappeared, and the
diverging wake of the ripples showed that we were rapidly skimming
the water. "This is marvelous," I said; "incomprehensible, for
without sail or oar, wind or steam, we are fleeing over a lake that
has no current." "True, but not marvelous. Motion of matter is a
result of disturbance of energy connected therewith. Is it not
scientifically demonstrated, at least in theory, that if the motion
of the spirit that causes the magnetic needle to assume its
familiar position were really arrested in the substance of the
needle, either the metal would fuse and vaporize or (if the forces
did not appear in some other form such as heat, electricity,
magnetism, or other force) the needle would be hurled onward with
great speed?" 


CHAPTER XXVI.
MOTION FROM INHERENT ENERGY. 
"LEAD ME DEEPER INTO THIS EXPANDING STUDY."

"I partly comprehend that such would be the case," I said. "If a
series of knife blades on pivot ends be set in a frame, and turned
edgewise to a rapid current of water, the swiftly moving stream
flows through this sieve of metallic edges about as easily as if
there were no obstructions. Slowly turn the blades so as to present
their oblique sides to the current, and an immediate pressure is
apparent upon the frame that holds them; turn the blades so as to
shut up the space, and they will be torn from their sockets, or the
entire frame will be shattered into pieces."

"I understand; go on." "The ethereal current that generates the
magnetic force passes through material bodies with inconceivable
rapidity, and the molecules of a few substances only, present to it
the least obstruction. Material molecules are edgewise in it, and
meet no retardation in the subtle flood. This force is a
disturbance of space energy that is rushing into the earth in one
form, and out of it in another. But your mind is not yet in a
condition to grasp the subject, for at best there is no method of
explaining to men that which their experimental education has
failed to prepare them to receive, and for which first absolutely
new ideas, and next words with new meaning, must be formed.

Now we, (by we I mean those with whom I am connected) have learned
to disturb the molecules in matter so as to turn them partly, or
entirely, across the path of this magnetic current, and thus
interrupt the motion of this ever-present energy. We can retard its
velocity without, however, producing either magnetism (as is the
case in a bar of steel), electricity, or heat, but motion instead,
and thus a portion of this retarded energy springs into its new
existence as motion of my boat. 

It is force changed into movement of matter, for the molecules of
the boat, as a mass, must move onward as the force disappears as a
current. Perhaps you can accept now that instead of light, heat,
electricity, magnetism, and gravitation being really modifications
of force they are disturbances." "Disturbances of what?"
"Disturbances of motion." "Motion of what?" "Motion of itself, pure
and simple." "I can not comprehend, I can not conceive of motion
pure and simple." "I will explain at a future time so that you can
comprehend more clearly. Other lessons must come first, but never
will you see the end. Truth is infinite."

Continuing, he said: "Let me ask if there is anything marvelous in
this statement. On the earth's surface men arrest the fitful wind,
and by so doing divert the energy of its motion into movement of
machinery; they induce it to turn mills and propel vessels. This
motion of air is a disturbance, mass motion transmitted to the air
by heat, heat in turn being a disturbance or interruption of pure
motion'.

When men learn to interrupt this unperceived stream of energy so as
to change directly into material motion the spirit that saturates
the universe, and that produces force expressions, as it is
constantly rushing from earth into space, and from space back
again, they will have at command wherever they may be an endless
source of power, light, and heat; mass motion, light and heat being
convertible. Motion lies behind heat, light, and electricity, and
produces them, and so long as the earth revolves on its axis, and
circles in its orbit, man needs no light and heat from such
indirect sources as combustion.

Men will, however, yet obtain motion of molecules (heat), and
material mass motion as well, from earth motion, without the other
dangerous intermediate force expressions now deemed necessary in
their production." "Do you wish me to understand that on all parts
of the earth's surface there is a continual expenditure of energy,
an ever-ready current, that is really distinct from the light and
heat of the sun, and also that the imponderable bodies that we call
heat, light, electricity, and magnetism are not substances at all?"

"Yes," he replied. "And that this imperceptible something - fluid
I will say, for want of a better term - now invisible and unknown
to man, is as a medium in which the earth, submerged, floats as a
speck of dust in a flood of space?" "Certainly," he replied. "Am I
to infer from your remarks that, in the course of time, man will be
able to economize this force, and adapt it to his wants?" "Yes."
"Go on with your exposition, I again beg of you; lead me deeper
into this expanding study."

"There is but little more that you can comprehend now, as I have
said," he answered. "All materials known to man are of coarse
texture, and the minds of men are not yet in a condition to
comprehend finer exhibitions of force, or of motion modifications.
Pure energy, in all its modifications, is absolutely unknown to
man. What men call heat, gravitation, light, electricity, and
magnetism are the grosser attributes attending alterations in an
unknown, attenuated, highly developed force producer.

They are results, not causes. The real force, an unreached energy,
is now flooding all space, pervading all materials. Everywhere
there exists an infinite sea of motion absolute. Since this
primeval entity can not now affect matter, as matter is known to
man, man's sense can only be influenced by secondary attributes of
this energy. Unconscious of its all-pervading presence, however,
man is working towards the power that will some day, upon the
development of latent senses, open to him this new world. Then at
last he will move without muscular exertion, or the use of heat as
an agent of motion, and will, as I am now doing, bridle the motion
of space.

Wherever he may be situated, there will then be warmth to any
degree that he wishes, for he will be able to temper the seasons,
and mass motion illimitable, also, for this energy, I reiterate, is
omnipresent. However, as you will know more of this before long, we
will pass the subject for the present." My guide slowly moved the
lever. I sat in deep reflection, beginning to comprehend somewhat
of his reasoning, and yet my mind was more than clouded.

The several ambiguous repetitions he had made since our journey
commenced, each time suggesting the same idea, clothing it in
different forms of expression, impressed me vaguely with the
conception of a certain something for which I was gradually being
prepared, and that I might eventually be educated to grasp, but
which he believed my mind was not yet ready to receive. I gathered
from what he said that he could have given clearer explanations
than he was now doing, and that he clothed his language
intentionally in mysticism, and that, for some reason, he preferred
to leave my mind in a condition of uncertainty.

The velocity of the boat increased as he again and again cautiously
touched the lever, and at last the responsive craft rose nearly out
of the water, and skimmed like a bird over its surface. There was
no object in that lake of pure crystal to govern me in calculating
as to the rapidity of our motion, and I studied to evolve a method
by which I could time our movements. With this object in view I
tore a scrap from my clothing and tossed it into the air. It fell
at my feet as if in a calm.

There was no breeze. I picked the fragment up, in bewilderment, for
I had expected it to fall behind us. Then it occurred to me, as by
a flash, that notwithstanding our apparently rapid motion, there
was an entire absence of atmospheric resistance. What could explain
the paradox? I turned to my guide and again tossed the fragment of
cloth upward, and again it settled at my feet. He smiled, and
answered my silent inquiry. "There is a protecting sheet before us,
radiating, fan-like, from the bow of our boat as if a large pane of
glass were resting on edge, thus shedding the force of the wind. 

This diaphragm catches the attenuated atmosphere and protects us
from its friction." "But I see no such protecting object," I
answered. "No; it is invisible. You can not see the obstructing
power, for it is really a gyrating section of force, and is
colorless. That spray of metal on the brow of our boat is the
developer of this protecting medium. Imagine a transverse section
of an eddy of water on edge before us, and you can form a
comparison. Throw the bit of garment as far as you can beyond the
side of the boat."

I did so, and saw it flutter slowly away to a considerable distance
parallel with our position in the boat as though in a perfect calm,
and then it disappeared. It seemed to have been dissolved. I gazed
at my guide in amazement. "Try again," said he. I tore another and
a larger fragment from my coat sleeve. I fixed my eyes closely upon
it, and cast it from me. The bit of garment fluttered listlessly
away to the same distance, and then - vacancy. Wonders of
wonderland, mysteries of the mysterious!

What would be the end of this marvelous journey? Suspicion again
possessed me, and distrust arose. Could not my self-existence be
blotted out in like manner? I thought again of my New York home,
and the recollection of upper earth, and those broken family ties
brought to my heart a flood of bitter emotions. I inwardly cursed
the writer of that alchemistic letter, and cursed myself for
heeding the contents. The tears gashed from my eyes and trickled
through my fingers as I covered my face with my hands and groaned
aloud.

Then, with a gentle touch, my guide's hand rested on my shoulder.
"Calm yourself," he said; "this phenomenon is a natural sequence to
a deeper study of nature than man has reached. It is simply the
result of an exhibition of rapid motion. You are upon a great
underground lake, that, on a shelf of earth substance one hundred
and fifty miles below the earth's surface, covers an area of many
thousand square miles, and which has an average depth of five
miles. We are now crossing it diagonally at a rapid rate by the aid
of the force that man will yet use in a perfectly natural manner on
the rough upper ocean and bleak lands of the earth's coarse
surface.

The fragments of cloth disappeared from sight when thrown beyond
the influence of our protecting diaphragm, because when they struck
the outer motionless atmosphere they were instantly left behind;
the eye could not catch their sudden change in motion. A period of
time is necessary to convey from eye to mind the sensation of
sight. The bullet shot from a gun is invisible by reason of the
fact that the eye can not discern the momentary interruption to the
light. A cannon ball will compass the field of vision of the eye,
moving across it without making itself known, and yet the fact does
not excite surprise.

We are traveling so fast that small, stationary objects outside our
track are invisible." Then in a kind, pathetic tone of voice, He
said: "An important lesson you should learn, I have mentioned it
before. Whatever seems to be mysterious, or marvelous, is only so
because of the lack of knowledge of associated natural phenomena
and connected conditions. All that you have experienced, all that
you have yet to meet in your future journey, is as I have
endeavored to teach you, in exact accordance with the laws that
govern the universe, of which the earth constitutes so small a
portion that, were the conditions favorable, it could be blotted
from its present existence as quickly as that bit of garment
disappeared, and with as little disturbance of the mechanism of the
moving universe."

I leaned over, resting my face upon my elbow; my thoughts were
immethodically wandering in the midst of multiplying perplexities
- I closed my eyes as a weary child, and slept.


CHAPTER XXVII.
SLEEP, DREAMS, NIGHTMARE.
"STRANGLE THE LIFE FROM MY BODY."

I know not how long I sat wrapped in slumber. Even if my body had
not been wearing away - as formerly, my mind had become excessively
wearied. I had existed in a state of abnormal mental intoxication
far beyond the period of accustomed wakefulness, and had taxed my
mental organization beyond endurance. In the midst of events of the
most startling description, I had abruptly passed into what was at
its commencement the sweetest sleep of my recollection, but which
came to a horrible termination.

In my dream I was transported once more to my native land, and
roamed in freedom throughout the streets of my lost home. I lived
over again my early life in Virginia, and I seemed to have lost all
recollection of the weird journey which I had lately taken. My
subsequent connection with the brotherhood of alchemists, and the
unfortunate letter that led to my present condition, were
forgotten.

There came no thought suggestive of the train of events that are
here chronicled, and as a child I tasted again the pleasures of
innocence, the joys of boyhood. Then my dream of childhood
vanished, and the scenes of later days spread themselves before me.
I saw, after a time, the scenes of my later life, as though I
viewed them from a distance, and was impressed with the idea that
they were not real, but only the fragments of a dream. I shuddered
in my childish dreamland, and trembled as a child would at
confronting events of the real life that I had passed through on
earth, and that gradually assuming the shape of man approached and
stood before me, a hideous specter seemingly ready to absorb me. 

The peaceful child in which I existed shrunk back, and recoiled
from the approaching living man. "Away, away," I cried, "you can
not grasp me, I do not wish to become a man; this can not, must not
be the end to a horrible existence." Gradually, the Man Life
approached, seized and enveloped me, closing around me as a jelly
fish surrounds its living victim, while the horrors of a nightmare
came over my soul. "Man's life is a fearful dream," I shouted, as
I writhed in agony; "I am still a child, and will remain one; keep
off! Life of man, away! Let me live and die a child."

The specter of Man's Life seized me more firmly as I struggled to
escape, and holding me in its irresistible clutch absorbed my
substance as a vampire might suck the blood of an infant, and while
the childish dream disappeared in that hideous embrace, the
miserable man awoke. I found myself on land. The Guide, seated at
my side, remarked: "You have slept. "I have lived again," I said in
bitterness. "You have not lived at all as yet," he replied; "Life
is a dream, usually it is an unsatisfied nightmare." "Then let me
dream again as at the beginning of this slumber, "I said; "and
while I dream as a child, do you strangle the life from my body, -
spare me the nightmare, I would not live to reach the Life of Man."

"This is sarcasm," he replied; "you are as changeable as the winds
of the Earth's surface. Now as you are about to approach a part of
our journey where fortitude is necessary, behold, you waver as a
little child might. Nerve yourself; the trials of the present
require a steady mind, let the future care for itself; you can not
recall the past." I became attentive again; the depressing effects
of that repulsive dream rapidly lifted, and wasted away, as I
realized that I was a man, and was destined to see more than can be
seen in the future of other mortals.

This elevation of my spirit was evidently understood by my guide.
He turned to the lake, and pointing to its quiet bosom remarked:
"For five hours we have journeyed over this sheet of water at the
average rate of nine hundred miles an hour. At the time you threw
the fragments of cloth overboard, we were traveling at a speed of
not less than twenty miles per minute. You remember that some hours
ago you criticised my assertion when I said that we would soon be
near the axis of the earth beneath the North Pole, and now we are
beyond that point, and are about six thousand miles from where we
stood at that time."

"You must have your way,"I replied; "I can not disprove your
assertion, but were it not that I have passed through so many
marvelous experiences since first we met, I would question the
reliability of your information." My guide continued: "The surface
of this lake lies as a mirror beneath both the ocean and the land.
The force effect that preserves the configuration of the ocean
preserves the form of this also, but influences it to a less
extent, and the two surfaces lie nearly parallel with each other,
this one being one hundred and fifty miles beneath the surface of
the earth.

The shell of the earth above us is honeycombed by caverns in some
places, in others it is compact, and yet, in most places, is
impervious to water. At the farther extremity of the lake, a
stratum of porous material extends through the space intervening
between the bottom of the ocean and this lake. By capillary
attraction, assisted by gravitation, part of the water of the ocean
is being transferred through this stratum to the underground
cavity. The lake is slowly rising."

At this remark I interrupted him: "You say the water in the ocean
is being slowly transferred down to this underground lake less by
gravity than by capillarity." "Yes." "I believe that I have reason
to question that statement, if you do not include the salt," I
replied. "Pray state your objections." I answered: "Whether a tube
be long or short, if it penetrate the bottom of a vessel of brine,
and extend downward, the brine will flow into and out of it by
reason of its weight."

"You mistake," he asserted; "the attraction of the sides of the
capillary tube, if the tube is long enough, will eventually
separate the water from the salt, and at length a downward flow of
water only will result." I again expressed my incredulity. "More
than this, by perfectly natural laws the water that is freed from
the tubes might again force itself upward perfectly fresh, to the
surface of the earth - yes, under proper conditions, above the
surface of the ocean."

"Do you take me for a fool?" I said. "Is it not self-evident that
a fountain can not rise above its source?" "It often does," he
answered. "You trifle with me,"I said, acrimoniously. "No," he
replied; "I am telling you the truth. Have you never heard of what
men call artesian wells?" "Yes, and "(here I attempted in turn to
become sarcastic) "have you never learned that they are caused by
water flowing into crevices in uplands where layers of stone or of
clay strata separated by sand or gravel slant upward. The water
conducted thence by these channels afterwards springs up in the
valleys to which it has been carried by means of the crevices in
these strata, but it never rises above its source."

To my surprise he answered: "This is another of man's scientific
speculations, based on some facts, it is true, and now and then
correct, but not invariably. The water of an artesian well on an
elevated plane may flow into the earth from a creek, pond, or
river, that is lower than the mouth of the well it feeds, and still
it may sport into the air from either a near or distant elevation
that is higher than its source."

"I can not admit the truth of this,"I said; "I am willing to listen
to reason, but such statements as these seem altogether absurd."
"As you please,"he replied; "we will continue our journey." 


INTERLUDE. 
THE STORY INTERRUPTED. 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
A CHALLENGE. MY UNBIDDEN GUEST ACCEPTS IT.

The white-haired reader, in whom I had now become deeply
interested, no longer an unwelcome stranger, suspended his reading,
laid down his manuscript, and looking me in the face, asked: "Are
you a believer?" "No," I promptly answered. "What part of the
narrative do you question?" "All of it." "Have you not already
investigated some of the statements I previously made?" he queried.
"Yes," I said; "but you had not then given utterance to such
preposterous expressions." "Is not the truth, the truth?" he
answered. "You ask me to believe impossibilities," I replied. "Name
one." "You yourself admit,"I said warmly, "that you were
incredulous, and shook your head when your guide asserted that the
bottom of the ocean might be as porous as a sieve, and still hold
water. A fountain can not rise above its source." "It often does,
however," he replied. "I do not believe you,"I said boldly.

"And, furthermore, I assert that you might as reasonably ask me to
believe that I can see my own brain, as to accept your fiction
regarding the production of light, miles below the surface of the
earth." "I can make your brain visible to you, and if you dare to
accompany me, I will carry you beneath the surface of the earth and
prove my other statement," he said. "Come!" He arose and grasped my
arm. I hesitated. "You confess that you fear the journey."

I made no reply. "Well, since you fear that method, I am ready to
convince you of the facts by any rational course you may select,
and if you wish to stake your entire argument on the general
statement that a stream of water can not rise above its head, I
will accept the challenge; but I insist that you do not divulge the
nature of the experiment until, as you are directed, you make
public my story." "Of course a fluid can be pumped up," I
sarcastically observed. "However, I promise the secrecy you ask." 

"I am speaking seriously,"he said, "and I have accepted your
challenge; your own eyes shall view the facts, your own hands
prepare the conditions necessary. Procure a few pints of sand, and
a few pounds of salt; tomorrow evening I will be ready to make the
experiment." "Agreed; if you will induce a stream of water to run
up hill, a fountain to rise above its head, I will believe any
statement you may henceforth make." "Be ready, then,"he replied,
"and procure the materials named." So saying he picked up his hat
and abruptly departed.

These substances I purchased the next day, procuring the silver
sand from Gordon's pharmacy, corner of Eighth and Western Row, and
promptly at the specified time we met in my room. He came, provided
with a cylindrical glass jar about eighteen inches high and two
inches in diameter (such as I have since learned is called a
hydrometer jar), and a long, slender drawn glass tube, the internal
diameter of which was about one-sixteenth of an inch. "You have
deceived me," I said; "I know well enough that capillary attraction
will draw a liquid above its surface. You demonstrated that quite
recently to my entire satisfaction."

"True, and yet not true of this experiment,"he said. "I propose to
force water through and out of this tube; capillary attraction will
not expel a liquid from a tube if its mouth be above the surface of
the supply." He dipped the tip of a capillary tube into a tumbler
of water; the water rose inside the tube about an inch above the
surface of the water in the tumbler. Capillary attraction can do no
more," he said. "Break the tube one-eighth of an inch above the
water (far below the present capillary surface), and it will not
overflow. The exit of the tube must be lower than the surface of
the liquid if circulation ensues."

He broke off a fragment, and the result was as predicted. Then he
poured water into the glass jar to the depth of about six inches,
and selecting a piece of very thin muslin, about an inch square,
turned it over the end of the glass tube, tied it in position, and
dropped that end of the tube into the cylinder. "The muslin simply
prevents the tube from filling with sand," he explained. Then he
poured sand into the cylinder until it reached the surface of the
water. (See Figure 23.) "Your apparatus is simple enough," I
remarked, I am afraid with some sarcasm.

"Nature works with exceeding simplicity," he replied; "there is no
complex apparatus in her laboratory, and I copy after nature." Then
he dissolved the salt in a portion of water that he drew from the
hydrant into my wash bowl, making a strong brine, and stirred sand
into the brine to make a thick mush. This mixture of sand and brine
he then poured into the cylinder, filling it nearly to the top.
(See Figure 23, B. The sand settling soon left a layer of brine
above it, as shown by A.)

I had previously noticed that the upper end of the glass tube was
curved, and my surprise can be imagined when I saw that at once
water began to flow through the tube, dropping quite rapidly into
the cylinder. The lower end of the curve of the glass tube was
fully half an inch above the surface of the liquid in the cylinder.
I here present a figure of the apparatus. (Figure 23.) The strange
man, or man image, I do not know which, sat before me, and in
silence we watched the steady flow of water, water rising above its
surface and flowing into the reservoir from which it was being
continually derived. "Do you give up?" he asked.

"Let me think," I said. "As you please," he replied. "How long will
this continue?" I inquired. "Until strong salt water flows from the
tube." Then the old man continued: "I would suggest that after I
depart you repeat these experiments. The observations of those
interested in science must be repeated time and again by separate
individuals. It is not sufficient that one person should observe a
phenomenon; repeated experiments are necessary in order to overcome
error of manipulation, and to convince others of their correctness.

Not only yourself, but many others, after this manuscript appears,
should go through with similar investigations, varied in detail as
mind expansion may suggest. This experiment is but the germ of a
thought which will be enlarged upon by many minds under other
conditions. An event meteorological may occur in the experience of
one observer, and never repeat itself. This is possible. The
results of such experiments as you are observing, however, trust be
followed by similar results in the hands of others, and in behalf
of science it is necessary that others should be able to verify
your experience.

In the time to come it will be necessary to support your statements
in order to demonstrate that your perceptive faculties are now in
a normal condition. Are you sure that your conceptions of these
results are justified by normal perception? May you not be in an
exalted state of mind that hinders clear perception, and compels
you to imagine and accept as fact that which does not exist? Do you
see what you think you see? After I am gone, and the influences
that my person and mind exert on your own mind have been removed,
will these results, as shown by my experiments, follow similar
experimental conditions?

In the years that are to pass before this paper is to be made
public, it will be your duty to verify your present sense faculty.
This you must do as opportunities present, and with different
devices, so that no question may arise as to what will follow when
others repeat our experiments. To-morrow evening I will call again,
but remember, you must not tell others of this experiment, nor show
the devices to them. "I have promised," I answered. He gathered his
manuscript and departed, and I sat in meditation watching the
mysterious fountain. As he had predicted, finally, after a long
time, the flow slackened, and by morning, when I arose from my bed,
the water had ceased to drip, and then I found it salty to the
taste.

The next evening he appeared as usual, and prepared to resume his
reading, making no mention of the previous test of my faith. I
interrupted him, however, by saying that I had observed that the
sand had settled in the cylinder, and that in my opinion his
experiment was not true to appearances, but was a deception, since
the sand by its greater weight displaced the water, which escaped
through the tube, where there was least resistance. "Ah," he said,
"and so you refuse to believe your own eyesight, and are contriving
to escape the deserved penalty; I will, however, acquiesce in your
outspoken desire for further light, and repeat the experiment
without using sand.

But I tell you that mother earth, in the phenomena known as
artesian wells, uses sand and clay, pools of mineral waters of
different gravities, and running streams. The waters beneath the
earth are under pressure, induced by such natural causes as I have
presented you in miniature, the chief difference being that the
supplies of both salt and fresh water are inexhaustible, and by
natural combinations similar to what you have seen; the streams
within the earth, if a pipe be thrust into them, may rise
continuously, eternally, from a reservoir higher than the head.

In addition, there are pressures of gases, and solutions of many
salts, other than chloride of soda, that tend to favor the
phenomenon. You are unduly incredulous, and you ask of me more than
your right after staking your faith on an experiment of your own
selection. You demand more of me even than nature often
accomplishes in earth structure; but tomorrow night I will show you
that this seemingly impossible feat is possible." He then abruptly
left the room. The following evening he presented himself with a
couple of one-gallon cans, one of them without a bottom.

I thought I could detect some impatience of manner as he filled the
perfect can with water from the hydrant, and having spread a strip
of thin muslin over the mouth of the other can, pressed it firmly
over the mouth of the can of water, which it fitted tightly, thus
connecting them together, the upper ( bottomless ) can being
inverted. Then he made a narrow slit in the center of the muslin
with his pen-knife, and through it thrust a glass tube like that of
our former experiment.

Next he wrapped a string around the open top of the upper can,
crossed it over the top, and tied the glass tube to the center of
the cross string. "Simply to hold this tube in position," he
explained. The remainder of the bag of salt left from the
experiment of the preceding evening was then dissolved in water,
and the brine poured into the upper can, filling it to the top.
Then carefully thrusting the glass tube downward, he brought the
tip of the curve to within about one-half inch of the surface of
the brine, when immediately a rapid flow of liquid exhibited
itself. (Figure 24.)

"It rises above its source without sand," he observed. "I can not
deny the fact," I replied, "and furthermore I am determined that I
shall not question any subsequent statement that you make." We sat
in silence for some time, and the water ran continuously through
the tube. I was becoming alarmed, afraid of my occult guest, who
accepted my self-selected challenges, and worked out his results so
rapidly; he seemed to he more than human.

"I am a mortal, but a resident of a higher plane than you,"he
replied, divining my thoughts. "Is not this experiment a natural
one?" "Yes," I said. "Did not Shakspeare write, `There are more
things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your
philosophy'?" "Yes," I said. And my guest continued: "He might have
added, `and always will be'." "Scientific men will explain this
phenomenon," I suggested.

"Yes, when they observe the facts," he replied, "it is very simple.
They can now tell, as I have before remarked, how Columbus stood
the egg on end; however, given the problem before Columbus
expounded it, they would probably have wandered as far from the
true solution as the mountain with its edgewise layers of stone is
from the disconnected artesian wells on a distant sea coast where
the underground fresh and salt water in overlying currents and
layers clash together.

The explanation, of course, is simple. The brine is of greater
specific gravity than the pure water; the pressure of the heavier
fluid forces the lighter up in the tube. This action continues
until, as you will see by this experiment, in the gradual diffusion
of brine and pure water the salt is disseminated equally throughout
the vessels, and the specific gravity of the mixed liquid becomes
the same throughout, when the flow will cease.

However, in the earth, where supplies are inexhaustible, the
fountain flows unceasingly."


CHAPTER XXIX.
BEWARE OF BIOLOGY,
THE SCIENCE OF THE LIFE OF MAN.
xxxx
(The old man relates a story as an object lesson.) "But you have
not lived up to the promise; you have evaded part of the bargain,"I
continued. "While you have certainly performed some curious
experiments in physics which seem to be unique, yet, I am only an
amateur in science, and your hydrostatic illustrations may be
repetitions of investigations already recorded, that have escaped
the attention of the scientific gentlemen to whom I have hitherto
applied." "Man's mind is a creature of doubts and questions,"he
observed. "Answer one query, and others rise. His inner self is
never satisfied, and you are not to blame for wishing for a sign,
as all self-conscious conditions of your former existence compel.
Now that I have brushed aside the more prominent questionings, you
insist upon those omitted, and appeal to me to "- he hesitated. To
what?"I asked, curious to see if he had intuitively grasped my
unspoken sentence. "To exhibit to you your own brain,"he replied.
"That is it exactly,"I said; "you promised it, and you shall be
held strictly to your bargain. You agreed to show me my own brain,
and it seems evident that you have purposely evaded the promise."
"That I have made the promise and deferred its completion can not
be denied, but not by reason of an inability to fulfill the
contract. I will admit that I purposely deferred the exhibition,
hoping on your own account that you, would forget the hasty
promise. You would better release me from the promise; you do not
know what you ask." "I believe that I ask more than you can
perform,"I answered, "and that you know it." ( The reader is
invited to skip this chapter of horrors.- J. U. L. ) "Let me give
you a history,"he said, "and then perhaps you will relent. Listen.
A man once became involved in the study of anatomy. It led him to
destruction. He commenced the study in order to learn a profession;
he hoped to become a physician. Materia medica, pharmacy,
chemistry, enticed him at first, but after a time presented no
charms. He was a dull student in much that men usually consider
essential to the practice of medicine. He was not fitted to be a
physician. Gradually he became absorbed in two branches, physiology
and anatomy. Within his mental self a latent something developed
that neither himself nor his friends had suspected. This was an
increasing desire for knowledge concerning the human body. The
insatiable craving for anatomy grew upon him, and as it did so
other sections of medicine were neglected. Gradually he lost sight
of his professional object; he dropped chemistry, materia inedica,
pharmacy, and at last, morbidly lived only in the aforenamed two
branches. "His first visit to the dissecting room was disagreeable.
The odor of putrid flesh, the sight of the mutilated bodies
repulsed him. When first his hand, warm in life, touched the clammy
flesh of a corpse, he shuddered. Then when his fingers came in
contact with the viscera of a cadaver, that of a little child, he
cried out in horror. The demonstrator of anatomy urged him on; he
finally was induced to dissect part of the infant. The reflex
action on his sensitive mind first stunned, and then warped his
senses. His companions had to lead him from the room. `Wash it off,
wash it off,' he repeated, trying to throw his hand from his
person. `Horrid, horrible, unclean. The child is yet before me,' he
insisted. Then he went into a fever and raved. `Some mother will
meet me on the street and curse me,' he cried. "That hand is red
with the blood of my darling ; it has desecrated the innocent dead,
and mutilated that which is most precious to a mother."Take the
hand away, wash it,' he shouted. `The mother curses me; she demands
retribution. Better that a man be dead than cursed by a mother
whose child has been desecrated.' So the unfortunate being raved,
dreaming all manner of horrid imaginings. But at last he recovered,
a different man. He returned voluntarily to the dissecting-room,
and wrapped himself in the uncouth work. Nothing in connection with
corpse-mutilation was now offensive or unclean. He threw aside his
other studies, he became a slave possessed of one idea. He scarcely
took time to dine respectably; indeed, he often ate his lunch in
the dissecting-room. The blood of a child was again and again on
his fingers; it mattered not, he did not take the trouble to wash
it off. `The liver of man is not more sacred than the liver of a
hog,' he argued; `the flesh of a man is the same as other forms of
animal food. When a person dies the vital heat escapes,
consciousness is dissipated, and the cold, rigid remains are only
animal. Consciousness and life are all that is of man-one is force,
the other matter; when man dies both perish and are dissipated.'
His friends perceived his fondness for dissection, and argued with
him again, endeavoring now to overcome his infatuation; he repelled
them. ` I learned in my vision,' he said, referring to his fever,
`that Pope was right in saying that the "proper study of mankind is
man "; I care nothing for your priestly superstitions concerning
the dead. These fables are the invention of designing churchmen who
live on the superstitions of the ignorant. I am an infidel, and
believe in no spirit intangible; that which can be seen, felt, and
weighed is, all else is not. Life is simply a sensation. All beyond
is chimerical, less than fantastic, believed in only by dupes and
weak-minded, credulous tools of knaves, or creatures of blind
superstition.' He carried the finely articulated, bleached skull of
a cadaver to his room, and placed it beside a marble statue that
was a valued heirloom, the model of Venus of Milo. `Both are lime
compounds,' he cynically observed, ` neither is better than the
other.' His friends protested. `Your superstitious education is at
fault,' he answered; `you mentally clothe one of these objects in
a quality it does not deserve, and the thought creates a pleasant
emotion. The other, equally as pure, reminds you of the grave that
you fear, and you shudder. These mental pulsations are artificial,
both being either survivals of superstition, or creations of your
own mind. The lime in the skull is now as inanimate as that of the
statue; neither object is responsible for its form, neither is
unclean. To me, the delicate configuration, the exact articulation,
the perfect adaptation for the office it originally filled, makes
each bone of this skull a thing of beauty, an object of admiration.
As a whole, it gives me pleasure to think of this wonderful,
exquisitely arranged piece of mechanism. The statue you admire is
in every respect outrivaled by the skull, and I have placed the two
together because it pleases me to demonstrate that man's most
artistic creation is far inferior to material man. Throw aside your
sentimental prejudices, and join with me in the admiration of this
thing of beauty;' and he toyed with the skull as if it were a work
of art. So he argued, and arguing passed from bone to bone, and
from organ to organ. He filled his room with abnormal fragments of
the human body, and surrounded himself with jars of preserved
anatomical specimens. His friends fled in disgust, and he smiled,
glad to be alone with his ghastly subjects. He was infatuated in
one of the alcoves of science." The old man paused. "Shall I
proceed?"he asked. "Yes,"I said, but involuntarily moved my chair
back, for I began again to be afraid of the speaker. "At last this
scientific man had mastered all that was known concerning
physiology and anatomy. He learned by heart the wording of great
volumes devoted to these subjects. The human frame became to him as
an open book. He knew the articulation of every muscle, could name
a bone from a mere fragment. The microscope ceased to be an object
of interest, the secrets of pathology and physiology had been
mastered. Then, unconsciously, he was infected by another tendency
; a new thought was destined to dominate his brain. `What is it
that animates this frame? What lies inside to give it life?' He
became enthused again: `The dead body, to which I have given my
time, is not the conscious part of man,' he said to himself; `I
must find this thing of life within; I have been only a butcher of
the dead. My knowledge is superficial."' Again the old man
hesitated and looked at me inquiringly. "Shall I proceed?"he
repeated. I was possessed by horror, but yet fascinated, and
answered ,determinedly: "Go on." "Beware,"he added, "beware of the
Science of Life." Pleadingly he looked at me. "Go on,"I commanded.
He continued: "With the cunning of a madman, this person of
profound learning, led from the innocence of ignorance to the
heartlessness of advanced biological science, secretly planned to
seek the vital forces. ` I must begin with a child, for the life
essence shows its first manifestations in children,' he reasoned.
He moved to an unfrequented locality, discharged his servants, and
notified his former friends that visitors were unwelcome. He had
determined that no interruption to his work should occur. This
course was unnecessary, however, for now he had neither friends nor
visitors. He employed carpenters and artisans, and perfected a
series of mechanical tables, beautiful examples of automatic
mechanism. From the inner room of that house no cry could be heard
by persons outside.

[ It will be seen, by referring to the epilogue, that Mr. Drury
agreed to mutilate part of the book. This I have gladly done,
excising the heart-rending passages that follow. To use the words
of Prof. Venable, they do not "comport with the general delicacy of
the book. J. U. I,.]

"Hold, old man, cease,"I cried aghast; "I have had enough of this.
You trifle with me, demon; I have not asked for nightmare stories,
heart-curdling accounts of maniacal investigators, who madly pursue
their revolting calling, and discredit the name of science." "You
asked to see your own brain,"he replied. "And have been given a
terrible story instead,"I retorted. "So men perverted,
misconstruing the aim of science, answer the cry of humanity,"he
said. "One by one the cherished treasures of Christianity have been
stolen from the faithful. What, to the mother, can replace the babe
that has been lost? "The next world,"I answered, "offers a
comfort." "Bah,"he said; "does not another searcher in that same
science field tell the mother that there is no personal hereafter,
that she will never see her babe again ? One man of science steals
the body, another man of science takes away the soul, the third
annihilates heaven; they go like pestilence and famine, hand in
hand, subsisting on all that craving humanity considers sacred, and
offering no tangible return beyond a materialistic present. This
same science that seems to be doing so much for humanity will
continue to elevate so-called material civilization until, as the
yeast ferment is smothered in its own excretion, so will
science-thought create conditions to blot itself from existence,
and destroy the civilization it creates. Science is heartless,
notwithstanding the personal purity of the majority of her helpless
votaries. She is a thief, not of ordinary riches, but of treasures
that can not be replaced. Before science provings the love of a
mother perishes, the hope of immortality is annihilated. Beware of
materialism, the end of the science of man. Beware of the beginning
of biological inquiry, for he who commences, can not foresee the
termination. I say to you in candor, no man ever engaged in the
part of science lore that questions the life essence, realizing the
possible end of his investigations. The insidious servant becomes
a tyrannical master; the housebreaker is innocent, the horse thief
guiltless in comparison. Science thought begins in the brain of
man; science provings end all things with the end of the material
brain of man. Beware of your own brain." "I have no fear,"I
replied, "that I will ever be led to disturb the creeds of the
faithful, and I will not be diverted. I demand to see my brain."
"Your demand shall now be fulfilled; you have been warned of the
return that may follow the commencement of this study; you force
the issue; my responsibility ceases. No man of science realized the
end when he began to investigate his throbbing brain, and the end
of the fabric that science is weaving for man rests in the hidden
future. The story I have related is a true one, as thousands of
faithful men who unconsciously have been led into infidelity have
experienced; and as the faithful followers of sacred teachings can
also perceive, who recognize that their religion and the hope of
heaven is slipping away beneath the steady inroad of the heartless
materialistic investigator, who clothes himself in the garb of
science." Rising abruptly from his chair, he grasped my hand. "You
shall see your brain, man; come."

CHAPTER XXX. LOOKING BACKWARD.- THE LIVING BRAIN. The old man
accompanied his word "come,"as I have said, by rising from his
chair, and then with a display of strength quite out of proportion
to his age, he grasped my wrist and drew me toward the door.
Realizing at once that he intended I should accompany him into the
night, I protested, saying that I was quite unprepared. "My hat, at
least,"I insisted, as he made no recognition of my first demur.
"Your hat is on your head,"he replied. This was true, although I am
sure the hat had been previously hung on a rack in a distant part
of the room, and I am equally certain that neither my companion nor
myself had touched it. Leaving me no time for reflection, he opened
the door, and drew me through the hallway and into the gloom. As
though perfectly familiar with the city, he guided me from my cozy
home, on the retired side street in which I resided, eastwardly
into the busy thoroughfare, Western Row. Our course led us down
towards the river, past Ninth, Eighth, Seventh Streets. Now and
then a pedestrian stopped to gaze in surprise at the unique
spectacle, the old man leading the young one, but none made any
attempt to molest us. We passed on in silence, out of the busy part
of the thoroughfare and into the shady part of the city, into the
darkness below Fifth Street. Here the residences were poorer, and
tenement-houses and factories began to appear. We were now in a
quarter of the city into which strangers seldom, if ever,
penetrated after night, and in which I would not have cared to be
found unprotected at any time after sunset, much less in such
questionable company. I protested against the indiscretion; my
leader made no reply, but drew me on past the flickering gas lights
that now and then appeared at the intersection of Third, Pearl,
Second, and Water Streets, until at last we stood, in darkness, on
the bank of the Ohio River. Strange, the ferry-boat at that time of
night only made a trip every thirty minutes, and yet it was at the
landing as though by appointment. Fear began to possess me, and as
my thoughts recur to that evening, I can not understand how it was
that I allowed myself to be drawn without cry or resistance from my
secure home to the Ohio River, in such companionship. I can account
for the adventure only by the fact that I had deliberately
challenged my companion to make the test he was fulfilling, and
that an innate consciousness of pride and justice compelled me to
permit him to employ his own methods. We crossed the river without
speaking, and rapidly ascending the levee we took our course up
Main Street into Covington. Still in the lead, my aged guide,
without hesitation, went onward to the intersection of Main and
Pike Streets; thence he turned to the right, and following the
latter thoroughfare we passed the old tannery, that I recalled as
a familiar landmark, and then started up the hill. Onward we
strode, past a hotel named "Niemeyer's,"and soon were in the open
country on the Lexington Pike, treading through the mud, diagonally
up the hill back of Covington. Then, at a sharp curve in the road
where it rounded the point of the hill, we left the highway, and
struck down the hillside into a ravine that bounded the lower side
of the avenue. We had long since left the city lamps and sidewalks
behind us, and now, when we left the road way, were on the muddy
pike at a considerable elevation upon the hillside and, looking
backward, I beheld innumerable lights throughout the cities of
Cincinnati, Covington, and the village of Newport, sparkling away
in the distance behind and below us. "Come,"my companion said
again, as I hesitated, repeating the only word he had uttered since
telling his horrible story, "Come!" Down the hill into the valley
we plunged, and at last he opened the door of an isolated log
cabin, which we entered. He lighted a candle that he drew from his
pocket, and together we stood facing each other. "Be seated,"he
said dryly. And then I observed that the cold excuse for furniture
in that desolate room consisted of a single rude, hand-made chair
with corn-shuck bottom. However, I did not need a second
invitation, but sank exhausted and disconsolate upon the welcome
object. My companion lost no time, but struck at once into the
subject that concerned us, arguing as follows: "One of the troubles
with humanity is that of changing a thought from the old to a new
channel; to grasp at one effort an entirely new idea is an
impossibility. Men follow men in trains of thought expression, as
in bodily form generations of men follow generations. A child born
with three legs is a freak of nature, a monstrosity, yet it
sometimes appears. A man, possessed of a new idea is an anomaly, a
something that may not be impossible, but which has never appeared.
It is almost as difficult to conceive of a new idea as it is to
create out of nothing a new material or all element. Neither
thoughts nor things can be invented, both must be evolved out of a
preexisting something which it necessarily resembles. Every
advanced idea that appears in the brain of man is the result of a
suggestion from without. Men have gone on and on ceaselessly, with
their minds bent in one direction, ever looking outwardly, never
inwardly. It has not occurred to them to question at all in the
direction of backward sight. Mind has been enabled to read the
impressions that are made on and on the substance of brain
convolutions, but at the same time has been and is insensible to
the existence of the convolutions themselves. It is as though we
could read the letters of the manuscript that bears them without
having conceived of a necessity for the existence of a printed
surface, such as paper or anything outside the letters. Had
anatomists never dissected a brain, the human family would to-day
live in absolute ignorance of the nature of the substance that lies
within the skull. Did you ever stop to think that the mind can not
now bring to the senses the configuration, or nature, of the
substance in which mind exists? Its own house is unknown. This is
in consequence of the fact that physical existence has always
depended upon the study of external surroundings, and consequently
the power of internal sight lies undeveloped. It has never been
deemed necessary for man to attempt to view the internal
construction of his body, and hence the sense of feeling only
advises him of that which lies within his own self. This sense is
abstract, not descriptive. Normal organs have no sensible
existence. Thus an abnormal condition of an organ creates the
sensation of pain or pleasure, but discloses nothing concerning the
appearance or construction of the organ affected. The perfect liver
is as vacancy. The normal brain never throbs and aches. The
quiescent arm presents no evidence to the mind concerning its
shape, size, or color. Man can not count his fingers unless some
outside object touches them, or they press successively against
each other, or he perceives them by sight. The brain of man, the
seat of knowledge, in which mind centers, is not perceptible
through the senses. Does it not seem irrational, however, to
believe that mind itself is not aware, or could not be made
cognizant, of the nature of its material surroundings?" "I must
confess that I have not given the subject a thought,"I replied. "As
I predicted,"he said. "It is a step toward a new idea, and simple
as it seems, now that the subject has been suggested, you must
agree that thousands of intelligent men have not been able to
formulate the thought. The idea had never occurred to them. Even
after our previous conversation concerning the possibility of
showing you your own brain, you were powerless and could not
conceive of the train of thought which I started, and along which
I shall now further direct your senses." "The eye is so constituted
that light produces an impression on a nervous film in the rear of
that organ, this film is named the retina, the impression being
carried backward therefrom through a magma of nerve fibers ( the
optic nerve ), and reaching the brain, is recorded on that organ
and thus affects the mind. Is it not rational to suppose it
possible for this sequence to be reversed? In other words, if the
order were reversed could not the same set of nerves carry an
impression from behind to the retina, and picture thereon an image
of the object which lies anterior thereto, to be again, by reflex
action, carried back to the brain, thus bringing the brain
substance itself to the view of the mind, and thus impress the
senses? To recapitulate: If the nerve sensation, or force
expression, should travel from the brain to the retina, instead of
from an outward object, it will on the reverse of the retina
produce the image of that which lies behind, and then if the optic
nerve carry the image back to the brain, the mind will bring to the
senses the appearance of the image depicted thereon." "This is my
first consideration of the subject,"I replied. "Exactly,"he said ;
"you have passed through life looking at outside objects, and have
been heedlessly ignorant of your own brain. You have never made an
exclamation of surprise at the statement that you really see a star
that exists in the depths of space millions of miles beyond our
solar system, and yet you became incredulous and scornful when it
was suggested that I could show you how you could see the
configuration of your brain, an object with which the organ of
sight is nearly in contact. How inconsistent." "The chain of
reasoning is certainly novel, and yet I can not think of a mode by
which I can reverse my method of sight and look backward,"I now
respectfully answered. "It is very simple; all that is required is
a counter excitation of the nerve, and we have with us to-night
what any person who cares to consider the subject can employ at any
time, and thus behold an outline of a part of his own brain. I will
give you the lesson." Placing himself before the sashless window of
the cabin, which opening appeared as a black space pictured against
the night, the sage took the candle in his right hand, holding it
so that the flame was just below the tip of the nose, and about six
inches from his face. Then facing the open window he turned the
pupils of his eyes upward, seeming to fix his gaze on the upper
part of the open window space, and then he slowly moved the candle
transversely, backward and forward, across, in front of his face,
keeping it in such position that the flickering flame made a
parallel line with his eyes, and as just remarked, about six inches
from his face, and just below the tip of his nose. Speaking
deliberately, he said: "Now, were I you, this movement would
produce a counter irritation of the retina; a rhythm of the optic
nerve would follow, a reflex action of the brain accompanying, and
now a figure of part of the brain that rests against the skull in
the back of my head would be pictured on the retina. I would see it
plainly, apparently pictured or thrown across the open space before
me." "Incredible!"I replied. "Try for yourself,"quietly said my
guide. Placing myself in the position designated, I repeated the
maneuver, when slowly a shadowy something seemed to be evolved out
of the blank space before me. It seemed to be as a gray veil, or
like a corrugated sheet as thin as gauze, which as I gazed upon it
and discovered its outline, became more apparent and real. Soon the
convolutions assumed a more decided form, the gray matter was
visible, filled with venations, first gray and then red, and as I
became familiar with the sight, suddenly the convolutions of a
brain in all its exactness, with a network of red blood venations,
burst into existence. I beheld a brain, a brain, a living brain, my
own brain, and as an uncanny sensation possessed me I shudderingly
stopped the motion of the candle, and in an instant the shadowy
figure disappeared. "Have I won the wager?" "Yes,"I answered. Note:
This experiment is not claimed as original. See Purkinje's Beitrage
zur Kenntniss des Seheus in subjectiver Hinsicht ( Prague, 1923 and
1825 ), whose conclusions to the effect that the shadow of the
retina is seen, I-Am-The-Man ignores.-J. L. L. "Then,"said my
companion, "make no further investigations in this direction." "But
I wish to verify the experiment,"I replied. "Although it is not a
pleasant test, I can not withstand the temptation to repeat it."
And again I moved the candle backward and forward, when the figure
of my brain sprung at once into existence. "It is more vivid,"I
said; "I see it plainer, and more quickly than before." "Beware of
the science of man I repeat,"he replied; "now, before you are deep
in the toils, and can not foresee the end, beware of the science of
human biology. Remember the story recently related, that of the
physician who was led to destruction by the alluring voice." I made
no reply, but stood with my face fixed, slowly moving the candle
backward and forward, gazing intently into the depths of my own
brain. After a time the old man removed the candle from my hand,
and said: "Do you accept the fact? Have I demonstrated the truth of
the assertion?" "Yes,"I replied; "but tell me further, now that you
have excited my interest, have I seen and learned all that man can
discover in this direction?" "No; you have seen but a small portion
of the brain convolutions, only those that lie directly back of the
optic nerve. By systematic research, under proper conditions, every
part of the living brain may become as plainly pictured as that
which you have seen." "And is that all that could be learned?"I
asked. "No,"he continued. "Further development may enable men to
picture the figures engraved on the convolutions, and at last to
read the thoughts that are engraved within the brains of others,
and thus through material investigation the observer will perceive
the recorded thought of another person. An instrument capable of
searching and illuminating the retina could be easily affixed to
the eye of a criminal, after which, if the mind of the person
operated upon were stimulated by the suggestion of an occurrence
either remote or recent, the mind faculty would excite the brain,
produce the record, and spread the circumstances as a picture
before the observer. The brain would tell its own story, and the
investigator could read the truth as recorded in the brain of the
other man. A criminal subjected to such an examination could not
tell an untruth, or equivocate; his very brain would present itself
to the observer." "And you make this assertion, and then ask me to
go no further into the subject?" "Yes; decidedly yes." "Tell me,
then, could you not have performed this experiment in my room, or
in the dark cellar of my house?" "Any one can repeat it with a
candle in any room not otherwise lighted, by looking at a
blackboard, a blank wall, or black space,"he said. I was indignant.
"Why have you treated me so inhumanly? Was there a necessity for
this journey, these mysterious movements, this physical exertion?
Look at the mud with which I am covered, and consider the return
trip which yet lies before me, and which must prove even more
exhausting?" "Ah,"he said, "you overdraw. The lesson has been
easily acquired. Science is not an easy road to travel. Those who
propose to profit thereby must work circuitously, soil their hands
and person, meet discouragements, and must expect hardships,
reverses, abuse, and discomfort. Do not complain, but thank me for
giving you the lesson without other tribulations that might have
accompanied it. Besides, there was another object in my journey, an
object that I have quietly accomplished, and which you may never
know. Come, we must return." He extinguished the light of the
candle, and we departed together, trudging back through the mud and
the night. ( We must acquiesce in the explanation given for this
seemingly uncalled-for journey, and yet feel that it was
unnecessarily exacting.) Of that wearisome return trip I have
nothing to say beyond the fact that before reaching home my
companion disappeared in the darkness of a side street, and that
the cathedral chimes were playing for three o'clock A.M., as I
passed the corner of Eighth Street and Western Row. The next
evening my visitor appeared as usual, and realizing his complete
victory, he made no reference to the occurrences of the previous
night. In his usual calm and deliberate manner he produced the roll
of manuscript saying benignantly, and in a gentle tone: "Do you
recollect where I left off reading?" "You had reached that point in
your narrative,"I answered, "at which your guide had replaced the
boat on the surface of the lake." And the mysterious being resumed
his reading.

THE MANUSCRIPT CONTINUED. CHAPTER XXXI.

A LESSON ON VOLCANOES.- PRIMARY COLORS ARE CAPABLE OF FARTHER
SUBDIVISION. "Get into the boat,"said my eyeless pilot, "and we
will proceed to the farther edge of the lake, over the barrier of
which at great intervals of time, the surface water flows, and
induces the convulsion known as Mount Epomeo." We accordingly
embarked, and a gentle touch of the lever enabled us rapidly to
skirt the shore of the underground sea. The soft, bright, pleasant
earth-light continually enveloped us, and the absence of either
excessive heat or cold, rendered existence delightful. The weird
forms taken by the objects that successively presented themselves
on the shore were a source of continual delight to my mind. The
motion of our boat was constantly at the will of my guide. Now we
would skim across a great bay, flashing from point to point; again
we wound slowly through tortuous channels and among partly
submerged stones. "What a blessing this mode of locomotion would be
to humanity,"I murmured. "Humanity will yet attain it,"he replied.
"Step by step men have stumbled along towards the goal that the
light of coming centuries is destined to illuminate. They have
studied, and are still engaged in studying, the properties of
grosser forces, such as heat and electricity, and they will be led
by the thread they are following, to this and other achievements
yet unthought of, but which lie back of those more conspicuous." We
finally reached a precipitous bluff, that sprung to my view as by
magic, and which, with a glass-like surface, stretched upward to a
height beyond the scope of my vision, rising straight from the
surface of the lake. It was composed of a material seemingly black
as jet, and yet when seen under varying spectacular conditions as
we skirted its base it reflected, or emitted, most gorgeously the
brilliant lines of the rainbow, and also other colors hitherto
unknown to me. "There is something unique in these shades; species
of color appear that I can not identify; I seem to perceive colors
utterly unlike any that I know as the result of deflected, or
transmitted, sunlight rays, and they look unlike the combinations
of primary colors with which I am familiar." "Your observations are
true; some of these colors are unknown on earth." "But on the
surface of the earth we have all possible combinations of the seven
prismatic rays,"I answered. "How can there be others here ?"
"Because, first, your primary colors are capable of further
subdivision." "Second, other rays, invisible to men under usual
conditions, also emanate from the sun, and under favorable
circumstances may be brought to the sense of sight." "Do you assert
that the prism is capable of only partly analyzing the sunlight?"
"Yes; what reason have you to argue that, because a triangular bit
of glass resolves a white ray into seven fractions that are, as men
say, differently colored, you could not by proper methods subdivide
each of these so-called primary shades into others? What reason
have you to doubt that rays now invisible to man accompany those
capable of impressing his senses, and might by proper methods
become perceptible as new colors?" "None,"I answered; "only that I
have no proof that such rays exist." "But they do exist, and men
will yet learn that the term primitive ' ray, as applied to each of
the seven colors of the rainbow, is incorrect. Each will yet be
resolved, and as our faculties multiply and become more subtle,
other colors will be developed, possessed of a delicacy and
richness indescribable now, for as yet man can not comprehend the
possibilities of education beyond the limits of his present
condition." During this period of conversation we skirted the
richly colored bluff with a rapid motion, and at last shot beyond
it, as with a flash, into seeming vacancy. I was sitting with my
gaze directed toward the bluff, and when it instantly disappeared,
I rubbed my eyes to convince myself of their truthfulness, and as
I did so our boat came gradually to a stand on the edge of what
appeared to be an unfathomable abyss. Beneath me on the side where
had risen the bluff that disappeared so abruptly, as far as the eye
could reach, was an absolute void. To our right, and before and
behind us, stretched the surface of that great smooth lake on whose
bosom we rested. To our left, our boat brushing its rim, a narrow
ledge, a continuation of the black, glass-like material, reached
only a foot above the water, and beyond this narrow brink the mass
descended perpendicularly to seemingly infinite depths.
Involuntarily I grasped the sides of the boat, and recoiled from
the frightful chasm, over which I had been so suddenly suspended,
and which exceeded anything of a similar description that I had
ever seen. The immeasurable depth of the abyss, in connection with
the apparently frail barrier that held the great lake in its
bounds, caused me to shudder and shrink back, and my brain reeled
in dizzy fright. An inexplicable attraction, however,
notwithstanding my dread, held me spell-bound, and although I
struggled to shut out that view, the endeavor failed. I seemed to
be drawn by an irresistible power, and yet I shuddered at the awful
majesty of that yawning gulf which threatened to end the world on
which I then existed. Fascinated, entranced, I could not help
gazing, I knew not how long, down, down into that fathomless,
silent profundity. Composing myself, I turned a questioning glance
on my guide. He informed me that this hard, glass-like dam,
confined the waters of the slowly rising lake that we were sailing
over, and which finally would rise high enough to overflow the
barrier. "The cycle of the periodic overflow is measured by great
intervals,"he said; "centuries are required to raise the level of
the lake a fraction of an inch, and thousands of years may elapse
before its surface will again reach the top of the adamantine wall.
Then, governed by the law that attracts a liquid to itself, and
heaps the teaspoon with liquid, the water of the quiet lake piles
upon this narrow wall, forming a ledge along its summit. Finally
the superimposed surface water gives way, and a skim of water pours
over into the abyss."

He paused ; I leaned over and meditated, for I had now accustomed
myself to the situation. "There is no bottom,"I exclaimed. "Upon
the contrary,"he answered, "the bottom is less than ten miles
beneath us, and is a great funnel-shaped orifice, the neck of the
funnel reaching first down and then upward from us diagonally
toward the surface of the earth. Although the light by which we are
enveloped is bright, yet it is deficient in penetrating power, and
is not capable of giving the contour of objects even five miles
away, hence the chasm seems bottomless, and the gulf measureless."
"Is it not natural to suppose that a mass of water like this great
lake would overflow the barrier immediately, as soon as the surface
reached the upper edge, for the pressure of the immense volume must
be beyond calculation." "No, for it is height, not expanse, which,
as hydrostatic engineers understand, governs the pressure of water.
A liquid column, one foot in width, would press against the
retaining dam with the force of a body of the same liquid, the same
depth, one thousand miles in extent. Then the decrease of gravity
here permits the molecular attraction of the water's molecules to
exert itself more forcibly than would be the case on the surface of
the earth, and this holds the liquid mass together more firmly."
"See,"he observed, and dipping his finger into the water he held it
before him with a drop of water attached thereto ( Figure 27 ), the
globule being of considerable size, and lengthened as though it
consisted of some glutinous liquid. "How can a thin stratum of
water give rise to a volcanic eruption?"I next queried. "There
seems to be no melted rock, no evidence of intense heat,either
beneath or about us."FIG. 27. "I informed you some time ago that I
would partially explain these facts. Know then, that the theories
of man concerning volcanic eruptions, in connection with a molten
interior of the earth, are such as are evolved in ignorance of even
the subsurface of the globe. The earth's interior is to mankind a
sealed chamber, and the wise men who elucidate the curious theories
concerning natural phenomena occurring therein are forced to draw
entirely upon their imagination. Few persons realize the paucity of
data at the command of workers in science. Theories concerning the
earth are formulated from so little real knowledge of that body,
that our science may be said to be all theory, with scarcely a
trace of actual evidence to support it. If a globe ten inches in
diameter be covered with a sheet of paper, such as I hold in my
hand, the thickness of that sheet will be greater in proportion to
that of such a globe than the depth men have explored within the
earth is compared with the thickness of the crust of the earth. The
outer surface of a pencil line represents the surface of the earth;
the inner surface of the line represents the depth of man's
explorations; the highest mountain would be represented by a comma
resting on the line. The geologist studies the substances that are
thrust from the crater of an active volcano, and from this makes
conjectures regarding the strata beneath, and the force that casts
the excretions out. The results must with men, therefore, furnish
evidence from which to explain the cause. It is as though an
anatomist would form his idea of the anatomy of the liver by the
secretion thrown out of that organ, or of the lung texture by the
breath and sputum. In fact, volcanoes are of several descriptions,
and usually are extremely superficial. This lake, the surface of
which is but one hundred and fifty miles underground, is the mother
of an exceptionally deep one. When the water pours over this ledge
it strikes an element below us, the metallic base of salt, which
lies in great masses in some portions of the earth's crust. * Then
an immediate chemical reaction ensues, the water is dissociated,
intense heat results, part of the water combines with the metal,
part is vaporized as steam, while part escapes as an inflammable
gas. The sudden liberation of these gases causes an irregular
pressure of vapor on the surface of the lake, the result being a
throbbing and rebounding of the attenuated atmosphere above, which,
in gigantic waves, like swelling tides, dashes great volumes of
water over the ledge beside us, and into the depth below. This
water in turn reacts on fresh portions of the metallic base, and
the reflex action increases the vapor discharges, and as a
consequence the chamber we are in becomes a gasholder, containing
vapors of unequal gas pressures, and the resultant agitation of the
lake from the turmoil continues, and the pulsations are repeated
until the surface of the lake is lowered to such a degree as at
last to prevent the water from overflowing the barrier. Finally the
lake quiets itself, the gases slowly disappear by earth absorption,
and by escape from the volcanic exit, and for an unrecorded period
of time thereafter the surface of the lake continues to rise slowly
as it is doing now." "But what has this phenomenon to do with the
volcano?" "It produces the eruption; the water that rushes down
into the chasm, partly as steam, partly as gas, is forced onward
and upward through a crevice that leads to the old crater of the
presumed extinct but periodically active Mount Epomeo. These gases
are intensely heated, and they move with fearful velocity. They
tear off great masses of stone, which the resultant energy
disturbances, pressure, gas, and friction, redden with heat. The
mixture of gases from the decomposed water is in large amount, is
burning and exploding, and in this fiery furnace amid such
convulsions as have been described, the adjacent earth substance is
fused, and even clay is melted, and carried on with the fiery
blast. Finally the current reaches the earth's surface through the
funnel passage, the apex of which is a volcano- the blast described
a volcanic eruption." "One thing is still obscure in my mind,"I
said. "You assert that the reaction which follows the contact of
the flowing water and metallic bases in the crevice below us
liberates the explosive gases, and also volumes of vapor of water.
These gases rush, you say, and produce a volcanic eruption in a
distant part of the crust of the earth. I can not understand why
they do not rush backward as well, and produce another eruption in
Kentucky. Surely the pressure of a gas in confinement is the same
in all directions, is it not?" "Yes,"he replied, "but the
conditions in the different directions are dissimilar. In the
direction of the Kentucky cavern, the passage is tortuous, and
often contracts to a narrow crevice. In one place near the caverns
mouth, as you will remember, we had to dive beneath the surface of
a stream of water. That stratum of water as effectually closed the
exit from the Earth as the stopper prevents water from escaping
from a bottle. Between the point we now occupy and that water
stopper, rest thousands of miles of quiescent air. The inertia of
a thousand miles of air is beyond your comprehension. To move that
column of air by pushing against this end of it, and thus shoving
it instantly out the other end, would require greater force than
would burst the one hundred and fifty miles of inelastic stone
above us. Then, friction of the sides is another thing that
prevents its accomplishment. While a gradually applied pressure
would in time overcome both the inertia of the air and the friction
of the stone passages, it would take a supply of energy greater
than you could imagine to start into motion the elastic mass that
stands as solid and immovable as a sentinel of adamant, between the
cavern you entered, and the spot we now occupy. Time and energy
combined would be able to accomplish the result, but not under
present conditions. In the other direction, a broad, open channel
reaches directly to and connects with the volcanic shaft. Through
this channel the air is in motion, moving towards the extinct
crater, being supplied from another surface orifice. The gases
liberated in the manner in I have described, naturally follow the
line of least resistance. They turn at once away from the inert
mass of air that rests behind us, and move with increasing velocity
towards the volcanic exit. Before the pressure that might be
exerted towards the Kentucky cavern would have more than compressed
the intervening column of air enough to raise the water of a well
from its usual level to the surface of the earth, the velocity in
the other direction would have augmented prodigiously, and with its
increased rapidity a suction would follow more than sufficient to
consume the increasingly abundant gases from behind. Volcanoes are
therefore local, and the interior of the earth is not a molten mass
as I have been taught, I exclaimed. He answered: If men were far
enough along in their thought journey ( for the evolution of the
mental side of man is a journey in the world of thought ), they
would avoid such theories as that which ascribes a molten interior
to the earth. Volcanoes are superficial. They are as a rule, when
in activity but little blisters or excoriations upon the surface of
the earth, although their underground connections may be extensive.
Some of them are in a continual fret with frequent eruptions,
others, like the one under consideration, awaken only after great
periods of time. The entire surface of this globe has been or will
be subject to volcanic action. The phenomenon is one of the steps
in the world-making, matter-leveling process. When the deposit of
substances that I have indicated, and of which much of the earth's
interior is composed, the bases of salt, potash, and lime and clay
is exhausted, there will be no further volcanic action from this
cause, and in some places, this deposit has already disappeared, or
is covered deeply by layers of earth that serve as a protection."
"Is water, then, the universal cause of volcanoes?" "Water and air
together cause most of them. The action of water and its vapor
produces from metallic space dust, limestone, and clay soil, potash
and soda salts. This perfectly rational and natural action must
continue as long as there is water above, and free elementary bases
in contact with the earth bubbles. Volcanoes, earthquakes, geysers,
mud springs, and hot springs, are the natural result of that
reaction. Mountains are thereby forming by upheavals from beneath,
and the corresponding surface valleys are consequently filling up,
either by the slow deposit of the matter from the saline water of
hot springs, or by the sudden eruption of a new or presumably
extinct volcano." "What would happen if a crevice in the bottom of
the ocean should conduct the waters of the ocean into a deposit of
metallic bases?" "That often occurs,"was the reply; "a volcanic
wave results, and a volcano may thus rise from the ocean's depths."
"Is there any danger to the earth itself? May it not be riven into
fragments from such a convulsion?"I hesitatingly questioned. "No;
while the configuration of continents is continually being altered,
each disturbance must be practically superficial, and of limited
area." "But,"I persisted, "the rigid, solid earth may be blown to
fragments; in such convulsions a result like that seems not
impossible." "You argue from an erroneous hypothesis. The earth is
neither rigid nor solid." "True,"I answered. "If it were solid I
could not be a hundred miles beneath its surface in conversation
with another being; but there can not be many such cavities as that
which we are now traversing, and they can not surely extend
entirely through its mass; the great weight of the superincumbent
material would crush together the strongest materials, if a globe
as large as our earth were extensively honeycombed in this manner."
"Quite the contrary,"he replied; "and here let me, for the first
time, enlighten you as to the interior structure of the terrestrial
globe. The earth-forming principle consists of an invisible sphere
of energy that, spinning through space, supports the space dust
which collects on it, as dust on a bubble. By gradual accumulation
of substance on that sphere a hollow ball has resulted, on the
outer surface of which you have hitherto dwelt. The crust of the
earth is comparatively thin, not more than eight hundred miles in
average thickness, and is held in position by the central sphere of
energy that now exists at a distance about seven hundred miles
beneath the ocean level. The force inherent to this sphere
manifests itself upon the matter which it supports on both sides,
rendering matter the lighter the nearer it lies to the center
sphere. In other words, let me say to you: "The crust, or shell,
which I have just described as being but about eight hundred miles
in thickness, is firm and solid on both its convex and concave
surface, but gradually loses in weight, whether we penetrate from
the outer surface toward the center, or from any point of the inner
surface towards the outside, until at the central sphere matter has
no weight at all. Do you conceive my meaning?" "Yes,"I replied; "I
understand you perfectly." After a pause my pilot asked me
abruptly: "What do you most desire?" The question caused my mind to
revert instantly to my old home on the earth above me, and although
I felt the hope of returning to it spring up in my heart, the force
of habit caused me involuntarily to answer, "More light!" "More
light being your desire, you shall receive it." Obedient to his
touch, the bow of the boat turned from the gulf we had been
considering towards the center of the lake; the responsive craft
leaped forward, and in an instant the obsidian parapet disappeared
behind us. On and over the trackless waste of glass-like water we
sped, until the dead silence became painfully oppressive, and I
asked: "Whither are we bound?" "Towards the east." The well-timed
answer raised my spirits; I thought again that in`this man, despite
his repulsive shape, I beheld a friend, a brother; suspicion
vanished, and my courage rose. He touched the lever, and the craft,
subject to his will, nearly rose from the water, and sped with
amazing velocity, as was evident from the appearance of the
luminous road behind us. So rapid was our flight that the wake of
the boat seemed as if made of rigid parallel lines that disappeared
in the distance, too quick for the eye to catch the tremor.
Continuing his conversation, my companion informed me that he had
now directed the bark toward a point east of the spot where we
struck the shore, after crossing the lake, in order that we might
continue our journey downward, diagonally to the under surface of
the earth crust. "This recent digression from our journey
proper,"said he, "has been made to acquaint you with a subject,
regarding which you have exhibited a curiosity, and about which you
have heretofore been misinformed; now you understand more clearly
part of the philosophy of volcanoes and earthquakes. You have yet
much to learn in connection with allied phenomena, but this study
of the crude exhibition of force-disturbed matter, the manipulation
of which is familiar to man under the above names, is an
introduction to the more wonderful study destined yet to be a part
of your field, an investigation of quiescent matter, and pure
motion." "I can not comprehend you,"I replied, "as I stated once
before when you referred to what you designated as pure motion."

CHAPTER XXXII. MATTER IS RETARDED MOTION. "It is possible - is it
not? - for you to imagine a continuous volley of iron balls passing
near you in one line, in a horizontal direction, with considerable
velocity. Suppose that a pane of glass were to be gradually moved
so that a corner of it would be struck by one of the balls; then
the entire sheet of glass would be shivered by the concussion, even
though the bullet struck but a single spot of glass, the point of
contact covering only a small area. Imagine now that the velocity
of the volley of bullets be increased a thousand fold; then a plate
of glass thrust into their track would be smoothly cut, as though
with a file that would gnaw its way without producing a single
radiating fracture. A person standing near the volley would now
hear a deep purr or growling sound, caused by the friction between
the bullets and the air. Increase gradually the rapidity of their
motion, and this growl would become more acute, passing from a
deep, low murmur, into one less grave, and as the velocity
increased, the tone would become sharper, and at last piercingly
shrill. Increase now the rapidity of the train of bullets again,
and again the notes would decrease in turn, passing back again
successively through the several keys that had preceded, and
finally would reach the low growl which first struck the ear, and
with a further increase of speed silence would ensue, silence
evermore, regardless of increasing velocity. From these hundreds of
miles in a second at which the volley is now passing, let the
rapidity be augmented a thousand times, reaching in their flight
into millions of miles each second, and to the eye, from the point
where the sound disappeared, as the velocity increased, a dim
redness would appear, a glow just perceptible, indicating to the
sense of sight, by a continuous line, the track of the moving
missiles. To all appearance, the line would be as uniform as an
illuminated pencil mark, even though the several integral bullets
of the trail might be separated one from another by miles of space.
Let a pane of glass now be thrust across their track, and from the
point of contact a shower of sparks would fly, and the edges of
glass close to either side of the orifice would be shown, on
withdrawing the glass, to have been fused. Conceive now that the
velocity of the bullets be doubled and trebled, again and again,
the line of red light becomes brighter, then brilliant, and finally
as the velocity increases, at a certain point pure white results,
and to man's sense the trail would now be a continuous something,
as solid as a bar of metal if at a white heat, and ( even if the
bullets were a thousand miles apart ) man could not bring proof of
their separate existence to his senses. That portion of a pane of
glass or other substance, even steel or adamant, which should cross
its track now would simply melt away, the portion excised and
carried out of that pathway neither showing itself as
scintillations, nor as fragments of matter. The solid would
instantly liquefy, and would spread itself as a thin film over the
surface of each ball of that white, hot mass of fleeing metal, now
to all essential conditions as uniform as a bar of iron. Madly
increase the velocity to millions upon millions of miles per
second, and the heat will disappear gradually as did the sound,
while the bright light will pass backward successively through the
primary shades of color that are now known to man, beginning with
violet, and ending with red, and as the red fades away the train of
bullets will disappear to the sense of man. Neither light nor sound
now accompanies the volley, neither the human eye nor, the human
ear can perceive its presence. Drop a pane of glass or any other
object edgewise through it, and it gives to the sense of man no
evidence; the molecules of the glass separate from in front to
close in from behind, and the moving train passes through it as
freely as light, leaving the surface of the glass unaffected."
"Hold,"I interrupted; "that would be as one quality of matter
passing through another quality of matter without disturbance to
either, and it is a law in physics that two substances can not
occupy the same space at the same time." That law holds good as man
understands the subject, but bullets are no longer matter. Motion
of mass was first changed into motion of molecules, and motion of
molecule became finally augmented into motion of free force
entities as the bullets disintegrated into molecular corpuscles,
and then were dissociated, atoms resulting. At this last point the
sense of vision, and of touch, ceased to be affected by that moving
column ( neither matter nor force ), and at the next jump in
velocity the atoms themselves disappeared, and free intangible
motion resulted in nothing, vacancy. "This result is the
all-pervading spirit of space ( the ether of mankind ), as solid as
adamant and as mobile as vacuity. If you can reverse the order of
this phenomenon, and imagine an irregular retardation of the
rapidity of such atomic motion, you can read the story of the
formation of the material universe. Follow the chain backward, and
with the decrease of velocity, motion becomes tangible matter
again, and in accordance with conditions governing the change of
motion into matter, from time to time the various elements
successively appear. The planets may grow without and within, and
ethereal space can generate elemental dirt. If you can conceive of
an intermediate condition whereby pure space motion becomes partly
tangible, and yet is not gross enough to be earthy matter, you can
imagine how such forces as man is acquainted with, light, heat,
electricity, magnetism, or gravity even are produced, for these are
also disturbances in space motion. It should be easily understood
that, according to the same simple principle, other elements and
unknown forces as well, now imperceptible to man's limited
faculties, could be and are formed outside and inside his field of
perception." "I fear that I can not comprehend all this,"I
answered. "So I feared, and perhaps I have given you this lesson
too soon, although some time ago you asked me to teach you
concerning the assertion that electricity, light, heat, magnetism,
and gravity are disturbances, and you said, 'Disturbances of what?'
Think the lesson over, and you will perceive that it is easy. Let
us hope that the time will come when we will be able to glance
beneath the rough, material, earth surface knowledge that man has
acquired, and experience the mind expansion that leads to the
blissful insight possessed by superior beings who do not have to
contend with the rasping elements that encompass all who dwell upon
the surface of the earth." I pondered over these words, and a vague
light, an undefined, inexpressible something that I could not put
into words broke into my mind; I inferred that we were destined to
meet with persons, or existences, possessed of new senses, of a
mind development that man had not reached, and I was on the point
of questioning my pilot when the motion of the boat was suspended,
land appeared ahead, we drew up to it, and disembarked. Lifting the
boat from the water my guide placed it on land at the edge of the
motionless lake, and we resumed our journey. The scenery seemed but
little changed from that of the latter part of our previous line of
travel down the inclined plane of the opposite side of the lake
that we had crossed. The direction was still downward after leaving
the high ridge that bordered the edge of the lake, the floor of the
cavern being usually smooth, although occasionally it was rough and
covered with stony debris. The mysterious light grew perceptibly
brighter as we progressed, the fog-like halo previously mentioned
became less dense, and the ring of obscurity widened rapidly. I
could distinctly perceive objects at a great distance. I turned to
my companion to ask why this was, and he replied: "Because we are
leaving one of the undiscovered conditions of the upper atmosphere
that disturbs the sunlight." "Do you say that the atmosphere is
composed of substances unknown to man?" "Yes; several of them are
gases, and others are qualities of space condition, neither gas,
liquid, nor solid. ( This has since been partly supported by the
discovery of the element Argon. However, the statement has been
recorded many years. Miss Ella Burbige, stenographer, Newport, Ky.,
copied the original in 1887; Mr. S. D. Rouse, attorney, Covington,
Ky., read it in 1889; Mr. Russell Errett, editor of the Christian
Standard, in 1890, and Mr. H. C. Meader, President of the American
Ticket Brokers' Association, in 1892. It seems proper to make this
explanation in order to absolve the author from any charge of
plagiarism, for each of these persons will recall distinctly this
improbable [then ] assertion.- J. U. L. ) One particularly
interferes with light in its passage. It is an entity that is not
moved by the motion of the air, and is unequally distributed over
the earth's surface. As we ascend above the earth it decreases, so
it does as we descend into it. It is not vapor of water, is neither
smoke, nor a true gas, and is as yet sensible to man only by its
power of modifying the intensity of light. It has no color, is
chemically inactive, and yet modifies the sun's rays so as to blot
objects from view at a comparatively small distance from a person
on the face of the earth. That this fact is known to man is evident
from the knowledge he possesses of the difference in the power of
his organs of vision at different parts of the earth. His sight is
especially acute on the table lands of the Western Territories." "I
have been told,"I answered, "that vapor of water causes this
obscuration, or absorption, of light." "Vapor of water, unless in
strata of different densities, is absolutely transparent, and
presents no obstacle to the passage of light,"he said. "When vapor
obstructs light it is owing to impurities contained in it, to
currents of varying densities, or wave motions, or to a mechanical
mixture of condensed water and air, whereby multitudes of tiny
globular water surfaces are produced. Pure vapor of water, free
from motion, is passive to the sunlight." "I can scarcely believe
that a substance such as you describe, or that any constituent of
the air, can have escaped the perception of the chemist,"I replied.
In, as I thought, a facetious manner he repeated after me the word
"chemist," and continued. "Have chemists detected the ether of
Aristotle, that you have mentioned, and I have defined, which
scientists nevertheless accept pervades all space and every
description of matter, and that I have told you is really matter
itself changed into ultra, atomic motion? Have chemists explained
why one object is transparent, and another of equal weight and
solidity is opaque? Have chemists told you why vermilion is red and
indigo is blue ( the statement that they respectively reflect these
rays of light is not an explanation of the cause for such action )?
Have chemists told you why the prism disarranges or distorts
sunlight to produce the abnormal hues that men assume compose
elementary rays of light? Have chemists explained anything
concerning the why or wherefore of the attributes of matter, or
force, or even proven that the so-called primary forms of matter,
or elements, are not compounds? Upon the contrary, does not the
evolution that results in the recorded discoveries of the chemist
foretell, or at least indicate, the possible future of the art, and
promise that surrounding mysteries are yet to be developed and
expanded into open truths, thus elaborating hidden forces; and that
other forms of matter and unseen force expressions, are destined to
spring into existence as the sciences progress? The chemist of
to-day is groping in darkness; he is a novice as compared with the
elaborated chemist of the near future; the imperfectly seen of the
present, the silent and unsuspected, will become distinctly visible
in a time that is to come, and a brightening of the intellect by
these successively upward steps, up stairs of science, will, if
science serves herself best, broaden the mind and give power to the
imagination, resulting finally in "- He hesitated. "Go on,"I said.
"The passage of mortal man, with the faculties of man intact, into
communion with the spirit world."

CHAPTER XXXIII. "A STUDY OF SCIENCE IS A STUDY OF GOD."- COMMUNING
WITH ANGELS. "This is incredible,"I exclaimed. "You need not be
astonished,"he answered. "Is there any argument that can be offered
to controvert the assertion that man is ignorant of many natural
laws?" "I can offer none." "Is there any doubt that a force,
distinct and separate from matter, influences matter and vivifies
it into a living personality?" "I do not deny that there is such
force." "What then should prevent this force from existing separate
from the body if it be capable of existing in it?" "I can not argue
against such a position." "If, as is hoped and believed by the
majority of mankind, even though some try to deny the fact, it is
possible for man to exist as an association of earth matters,
linked to a personal spirit force, the soul, and for the spirit
force, after the death of the body, to exist independent of the
grosser attributes of man, free from his mortal body, is it not
reasonable to infer that the spirit, while it is still in man and
linked to his body, may be educated and developed so as, under
favorable conditions, to meet and communicate with other spirits
that have been previously liberated from earthly bondage?" "I
submit,"I answered; "but you shock my sensibilities when you thus
imply that by cold, scientific investigation we can place ourselves
in a position to meet the unseen spirit world "It was now my turn
to hesitate. "Go on,"he said. "To commune with the angels,"I
answered. "A study of true science is a study of God,"he continued.
"Angels are organizations natural in accordance with God's laws.
They appear superhuman, because of our ignorance concerning the
higher natural forces. They exist in exact accordance with the laws
that govern the universe; but as yet the attraction between clay
and clay-bound spirit is so great as to prevent the enthralled soul
of man from communicating with them. The faith of the religionist
is an example of the unquenchable feeling that creates a belief as
well as a hope that there is a self-existence separate from earthy
substances. The scoffing scientific agnostic, working for other
objects, will yet astonish himself by elaborating a method that
will practically demonstrate these facts, and then empirical
religion, as exemplified by the unquestioning faithful believer,
and systematic science, as typified in the experimental
materialist, will meet on common ground." CHAPTER XXXIV.

I CEASE TO BREATHE, AND YET I LIVE. During this conversation we had
been rapidly walking, or I should better say advancing, for we no
longer walked as men do, but skipped down into the earth, down,
ever downward. There were long periods of silence, in which I was
engaged in meditating over the problems that successively demanded
solution, and even had I desired to do so I could have kept no
record of time; days, or even weeks, may have been consumed in this
journey. Neither have I any method of judging of the rapidity of
our motion. I was sensible of a marked decrease in the amount of
muscular energy required to carry us onward, and I realized that my
body was quite exempt from weariness. Motion became restful instead
of exhausting, and it seemed to me that the ratio of the loss of
weight, as shown by our free movements, in proportion to the
distance we traversed, was greater than formerly. The slightest
exhibition of propelling force cast us rapidly forward. Instead of
the laborious, short step of upper earth, a single leap would carry
us many yards. A slight spring, and with our bodies in space, we
would skip several rods, alighting gently, to move again as easily.
I marveled, for, although I had been led to anticipate something
unusual, the practical evidence was wonderfully impressive, and I
again questioned my guide. "We are now nearing what physicists
would call the center of gravity,"he replied, "and our weight is
rapidly diminishing. This is in exact accordance with the laws that
govern the force called gravitation, which, at the earth's surface,
is apparently uniform, though no instrument known to man can
demonstrate its exact variation within the field man occupies. Men
have not, as yet, been in a position to estimate this change,
although it is known that mountains attract objects, and that a
change in weight as we descend into the earth is perceptible; but
to evolve the true law, observation, at a distance of at least ten
miles beneath the surface of the ocean is necessary, and man, being
a creature whose motions are confined to a thin, horizontal skin of
earth, has never been one mile beneath its surface, and in
consequence his opportunities for comparison are extremely
limited." "I have been taught,"I replied, "that the force of
gravitation decreases until the center of the earth is reached, at
which point a body is without weight; and I can scarcely understand
how such positive statements from scientific men can be far from
the truth." "It is supposed by your surface men that the maximum of
weight is to be found at one-sixth the distance beneath the surface
of the earth, and therefrom decreases until at the center it is
nothing at all,"he replied. "This hypothesis, though, a stagger
toward the right, is far from the truth, but as near as could be
expected, when we consider the data upon which men base their
calculations. Were it not for the purpose of controverting
erroneous views, men would have little incentive to continue their
investigations, and as has been the rule in science heretofore, the
truth will, in time, appear in this case. One generation of
students disproves the accepted theories of that which precedes,
all working to eliminate error, all adding factors of error, and
all together moving toward a common goal, a grand generalization,
that as yet can not be perceived. And still each series of workers
is overlooking phenomena that, though obvious, are yet unperceived,
but which will make evident to future scientists the mistakes of
the present. As an example of the manner in which facts are thus
overlooked, in your journey you have been impressed with certain
surprising external conditions, or surroundings, and yet are
oblivious to conditions more remarkable in your own body. So it is
with scientists. They overlook prominent facts that stare them
boldly in the face, facts that are so conspicuous as to be
invisible by reason of their very nearness." "This statement I can
not disprove, and therefore must admit under protest. Where there
is so much that appears mysterious I may have overlooked some
things, but I can scarcely accept that, in ignorance, I have passed
conditions in my own organization so marked as this decrease in
gravity which has so strikingly been called to my attention." "You
have, and to convince you I need only say that you have nearly
ceased to breathe, and are unconscious of the fact." I stopped
short, in momentary alarm, and now that my mind was directed to the
fact, I became aware that I did not desire to breathe, and that my
chest had ceased to heave with the alternate inhalation and
exhalation of former times. I closed my lips firmly, and for a long
period there was no desire for breath, then a slight involuntary
inhalation followed, and an exhalation, scarcely noticeable,
succeeded by a great interval of inaction. I impulsively turned my
face toward the passage we had trod; a feeling of alarm possessed
me, an uncontrollable, inexpressible desire to flee from the
mysterious earth-being beside me, to return to men, and be an
earth-surface man again, and I started backward through the chamber
we had passed. The guide seized me by the hand, "Hold, hold,"he
cried;"where would you go, fickle mortal?" "To the surface,"I
shouted; "to daylight again. Unhand me, unearthly creature,
abnormal being, man or devil; have you not inveigled me far enough
into occult realms that should be forever sealed from mankind? Have
you not taken from me all that men love or cherish, and undone
every tie of kith or kin? Have you not led me into paths that the
imagination of the novelist dare not conjure, and into experiences
that pen in human hand would not venture to describe as possible,
until I now stand with my feet on the boundary line that borders
vacancy, and utter loss of weight; with a body nearly lost as a
material substance, verging into nothing, and lastly with breath
practically extinguished, I say, and repeat, is it not time that I
should hesitate and pause in my reckless career?" "It is not
time,"he answered. "When will that hour come?"I asked in
desperation, and I trembled as he replied: "When the three Great
Lights are closed."

CHAPTER XXXV. A CERTAIN POINT WITHIN A SPHERE."- MEN ARE AS
PARASITES ON THE ROOF OF EARTH. I realized again, as I had so many
times before, that it was useless for me to rebel. "The
self-imposed mystery of a sacrificed life lies before me,"I
murmured, "and there is no chance to retrace my footsteps. The
'Beyond' of the course that I have voluntarily selected, and sworn
to follow, is hidden; I must nerve myself to pursue it to the
bitter end, and so help me God, and keep me steadfast." "Well
said,"he replied; "and since you have so wisely determined, I am
free to inform you that these new obligations, like those you have
heretofore taken, contain nothing which can conflict with your duty
to God, your country, your neighbor, or yourself. In considering
the phenomena presented by the suspension of the act of breathing,
it should occur to you that where little labor is to be performed,
little consumption of energy is required. Where there is such a
trifling destruction of the vital force ( not mind force ) as at
present is the case with us, it requires but slight respiration to
retain the normal condition of the body. On earth's surface the act
of respiration alone consumes by far the larger proportion of vital
energy, and the muscular exertion involved thereby necessitates a
proportionate amount of breathing in order that breath itself may
continue. This act of respiration is the result of one of the
conditions of surface earth life, and consumes most of the vital
force. If men would think of this, they would understand how
paradoxical it is for them to breathe in order to live, when the
very act of respiration wears away their bodies and shortens their
lives more than all else they have to do, and without adding to
their mental or physical constitution in the least. Men are
conversant with physical death as a constant result of suspended
respiration, and with respiration as an accompaniment of life,
which ever constant and connected conditions lead them to accept
that the act of breathing is a necessity of mortal life. In
reality, man occupies an unfortunate position among other
undeveloped creatures of external earth; he is an animal, and is
constitutionally framed like the other animals about him. He is
exposed to the warring elements, to the vicious attacks of savage
beasts and insidious parasites, and to the inroads of disease. He
is a prey to the elementary vicissitudes of the undesirable
exposure in which he exists upon the outer surface of our globe,
where all is war, even among the forces of nature about him. These
conditions render his lot an unhappy one indeed, and in ignorance
he overlooks the torments of the weary, rasping, endless slavery of
respiration in the personal struggle he has to undergo in order to
retain a brief existence as an organized being. Have you never
thought of the connected tribulations that the wear and tear of
respiration alone inflict upon the human family? The heaving of the
chest, the circulation of the blood, the throbbing of the heart,
continue from mortal birth until death. The heart of man forces
about two and one-half ounces of blood with each pulsation. At
seventy beats per minute this amounts to six hundred and fifty -
six pounds per hour, or nearly eight tons per day. The lungs
respire over one thousand times an hour, and move over three
thousand gallons of air a day. Multiply these amounts by three
hundred and sixty-five, and then by seventy, and you have partly
computed the enormous life-work of the lungs and heart of an adult.
Over two hundred thousand tons of blood, and seventy-five million
gallons of air have been moved by the vital force. The energy thus
consumed is dissipated. No return is made for the expenditure of
this life force. During the natural life of man, more energy is
consequently wasted in material transformation resulting from the
motion of heart and lungs, than would be necessary to sustain the
purely vital forces alone for a thousand years. Besides, the act of
respiration which man is compelled to perform in his exposed
position, necessitates the consumption of large amounts of food, in
order to preserve the animal heat, and replace the waste of a
material body that in turn is worn out by these very movements. Add
this waste of energy to the foregoing, and then you will surely
perceive that the possible life of man is also curtailed to another
and greater degree in the support of the digestive part of his
organism. His spirit is a slave to his body; his lungs and heart,
on which he imagines life depends, are unceasing antagonists of
life. That his act of breathing is now a necessity upon the surface
of the earth, where the force of gravity presses so heavily, and
where the elements have men at their command, and show him no
mercy, I will not deny; but it is exasperating to contemplate such
a waste of energy, and corresponding loss of human life." "You must
admit, however, that it is necessary?"I queried. "No; only to an
extent. The natural life of man should, and yet will be, doubled,
trebled, multiplied a dozen, yes a thousand fold." I stepped in
front of him; we stood facing each other. "Tell me,"I cried, "how
men can so improve their condition as to lengthen their days to the
limit you name, and let me return to surface earth a carrier of the
glad tidings." He shook his head. I dropped on my knees before him.
"I implore you in behalf of that unfortunate humanity, of which I
am a member, give me this boon. I promise to return to you and do
your bidding. Whatever may be my subsequent fate, I promise to
acquiesce therein willingly." He raised me to my feet. "Be of good
cheer,"he said, "and in the proper time you may return to the
surface of this rind of earth, a carrier of great and good news to
men." "Shall I teach them of what you have shown me ?"I asked.
"Yes; in part you will be a forerunner, but before you obtain the
information that is necessary to the comfort of mankind you will
have to visit surface earth again, and return again, perhaps
repeatedly. You must prove yourself as men are seldom proven. The
journey you have commenced is far from its conclusion, and you may
not be equal to its subsequent trials; prepare yourself, therefore,
for a series of events that may unnerve you. If you had full
confidence and faith in your guide, you would have less cause to
fear the result, but your suspicious human nature can not overcome
the shrinking sensation that is natural to those who have been
educated as you have been amid the changing vicissitudes of the
earth's surface, and you can not but be incredulous by reason of
that education." Then I stopped as I observed before me a peculiar
fungus- peculiar because [ it was ]unlike all others I had seen.
The convex part of its bowl was below, and the great head, as an
inverted toadstool, stood upright on a short, stem-like pedestal.
The gills within were of a deep green color, and curved out from
the center in the form of a spiral. This form, however, was not the
distinguishing feature, for I had before observed specimens that
were spiral in structure. The extraordinary peculiarity was that
the gills were covered with fruit. This fruit was likewise green in
color, each spore, or berry, being from two to three inches in
diameter, and honeycombed on the surface, corrugated most
beautifully. I stopped, leaned over the edge of the great bowl, and
plucked a specimen of the fruit. It seemed to be covered with a
hard, transparent shell, and to be nearly full of a clear, green
liquid. I handled and examined it in curiosity, at which my guide
seemed not to be surprised. Regarding me attentively, he said:
"What is it that impels a mortal towards this fruit?" "It is
curious,"I said; "nothing more." "As for that,"said he, "it is not
curious at all; the seed of the lobelia of upper earth is more
curious, because, while it is as exquisitely corrugated, it is also
microscopically small. In the second place you err when you say it
is simply curious, ' nothing more,' for no mortal ever yet passed
that bowl without doing exactly as you have done. The vein of
curiosity, were it that alone that impels you, could not but have
an exception." Then he cracked the shell of the fruit by striking
it on the stony floor, and carefully opened the shell, handing me
one of the halves filled with a green fluid. As he did so he spoke
the single word, "Drink,"and I did as directed. He stood upright
before me, and as I looked him in the face he seemingly, without a
reason, struck off into a dissertation, apparently as distinct from
our line of thought as a disconnected subject could be, as follows:

 CHAPTER XXXVI. DRUNKeNNESS.- THE DRINKS OF MAN. "Intemperance has
been the vice of every people, and is prevalent in all climes,
notwithstanding that intoxicants, properly employed, may serve
humanity's highest aims. Beginning early in the history of a
people, the disease increases with the growth of a nation, until,
at last, unless the knife is used, civilization perishes. A lowly
people becomes more depraved as the use of liquor increases; a
cultivated people passes backward into barbarism with the
depravities that come from dissipation. Here nations meet, and
individuals sink to a common level. No drinking man is strong
enough to say, ' I can not become dissipated-' no nation is rich
and cultivated enough to view the debauch of its people without
alarm. "The disgusting habit of the drunken African finds its
counterpart in the lascivious wine-bibber of aristocratic society.
To picture the indecencies of society, that may be charged to
debauchery, when the Grecian and Roman empires were at the height
of greatness, would obscure the orgies of the barbarous African,
and make preferable the brutality of the drunken American Indian.
Intemperance brings men to the lowest level, and holds its power
over all lands and all nations." "Did the aborigines know how to
make intoxicants, and were barbarians intemperate before contact
with civilized nations?" "Yes." "But I have understood that
drunkenness is a vice inherent only in civilized people; are not
you mistaken?" "No. Every clime, unless it be the far North where
men are scarcely more than animals, furnishes intoxicants, and all
people use them. I will tell you part of this record of nations.
"The Nubians make a barley beer which they call bouze, and also a
wine, from the palm tree. The savages of Africa draw the clear,
sweet juice of the palm oil tree into a gourd, in the morning, and
by night it becomes a violent intoxicant. The natives of the
Malayan Archipelago ferment and drink the sap of the flower stems
of the cocoanut. The Tartar tribes make an intoxicating drink from
mare's milk, called koomis. In South America the natives drink a
vile compound, called cane, distilled from sugar cane; and in the
Sandwich Islands, the shrub kava supplies the intoxicant kava-kava,
drunk by all the inhabitants, from king to slave, and mother to
child. In the heart of Africa, cannibal tribes make legyce of a
cereal, and indulge in wild orgies over their barbaric cup. In
North America the Indians, before Columbus discovered America, made
an intoxicating drink of the sap of the maple tree. The national
drink of the Mexicans is pulque, a beastly intoxicant, prepared
from the Agave Americana. Mead is an alcoholic drink, made of
honey, and used in many countries. In China wine was indulged in
from the earliest day, and in former times, had it not been for the
influence of their philosophers, especially Confucius, who foresaw
the end, the Chinese nation would have perished from drunkenness.
Opium, that fearful enslaver of millions of human beings, is in
every sense a narcotic intoxicant, and stands conspicuous as an
agent, capable of being either a friend, a companion, or a master,
as man permits. History fails to indicate the date of its
introduction to humanity. In South America the leaf of the cocoa
plant is a stimulant scarcely less to be dreaded than opium. The
juice of a species of asclepias produces the intoxicant soma, used
once by the Brahmins, not only as a drink, but also in sacrificial
and religious ceremonies. Many different flavored liquors made of
palm, cocoanuts, sugar, pepper, honey, spices, etc., were used by
native Hindoos, and as intoxicants have been employed from the
earliest days in India. The Vedic people were fearfully dissipated,
and page after page of that wonderful sacred book, the Rig-Veda, is
devoted to the habit of drunkenness. The worst classes of drunkards
of India used Indian hemp to make bhang, or combined the deadly
narcotic stramonium with arrack, a native beer, to produce a
poisonous intoxicant. In that early day the inhabitants of India
and China were fearfully depraved drunkards, and but for the
reforms instituted by their wise men, must have perished as a
people. Parahaoma, or ' hotna,' is an intoxicant made from a lost
plant that is described as having yellow blossoms, used by the
ancient dissolute Persians from the day of Zoroaster. Cannabis
sativa produces an intoxicant that in Turkey is known as hadschy,
in Arabia and India as hashish, and to the Hottentots as dacha, and
serves as a drunkard's food in other lands. The fruit of the
juniper produces gin, and the fermented juice of the grape, or malt
liquors, in all civilized countries are the favorite intoxicants,
their origin being lost in antiquity. Other substances, such as
palm, apples, dates, and pomegranates have also been universally
employed as drink producers. "Go where you will, man's tendency
seems to be towards the bowl that inebriates, and yet it is not the
use but the abuse of intoxicants that man has to dread. Could he be
temperate, exhilarants would befriend." "But here,"I replied, "in
this underground land, where food is; free, and existence possible
without an effort, this shameful vice has no existence. Here there
is no incentive to intemperance, and even though man were present
with his inherent passion for drink, he could not find means to
gratify his appetite." "Ah,"my guide replied, "that is an error.
Why should this part of the earth prove an exception to the general
rule? Nature always supplies the means, and man's instinct teaches
him how to prepare an intoxicant. So long as man is human his
passions will rule. If you should prove unequal to the task you
have undertaken, if you shrink from your journey, and turn back,
the chances are you will fail to reach the surface of the earth.
You will surely stop in the chamber which we now approach, and
which I have now prepared you to enter, and will then become one of
a band of earth drunkards; having all the lower passions of a
mortal you will yet be lost to the virtues of man. In this chamber
those who falter and turn back, stop and remain for all time,
sinking until they become lower in the human scale than any
drunkard on earth. Without any restraining influence, without a
care, without necessity of food or incentive to exertion, in this
habitation where heat and cold are unknown, and no motive for
self-preservation exists, they turn their thoughts toward the
ruling passion of mankind and- Listen! Do you not hear them?
Listen!" CHAPTER XXXVII. THE DRUNKARD'S VOICE. Then I noticed a
medley of sounds seemingly rising out of the depths beyond us. The
noise was not such as to lead me to infer that persons were
speaking coherently, but rather resembled a jargon such as might
come from a multitude of persons talking indiscriminately and
aimlessly. It was a constant volley, now rising and now falling in
intensity, as though many persons regardless of one another were
chanting different tunes in that peculiar sing-song tone often
characteristic of the drunkard. As we advanced, the noise became
louder and more of a medley, until at last we were surrounded by
confusion. Then a single voice rose up strong and full, and at
once, from about us, close to us, yes, against our very persons,
cries and shrieks unearthly smote my ears. I could distinguish
words of various tongues, English, Irish, German, and many
unfamiliar and disjointed cries, imprecations, and maledictions.
The cavern about seemed now to be resonant with voices,- shrieks,
yells, and maniacal cries commingled,- and yet no form appeared. As
we rushed onward, for now my guide grasped my arm tightly and drew
me rapidly down the cavern floor, the voices subsided, and at
length sounded as if behind us. Now however it seemed as though
innumerable arrows, each possessed of a whistle or tone of its own,
were in wave-like gusts shrieking by us. Coming from in front, they
burst in the rear. Stopping to listen, I found that a connection
could be traced between the screech of the arrow-like shriek, and
a drunkard's distant voice. It seemed as though a rocket made of an
escaping voice would scream past, and bursting in the cavern
behind, liberate a human cry. Now and then all but a few would
subside, to burst out with increased violence, as if a flight of
rockets each with a cry of its own would rush past, to be followed
after their explosion by a medley of maniacal cries, songs,
shrieks, and groans, commingled. It was as though a shell
containing a voice that escaped slowly as by pressure from an
orifice, were fired past my ears, to explode and liberate the voice
within my hearing. The dreadful utterance was not an echo, was not
hallucination, it was real. I stopped and looked at my guide in
amazement. He explained: "Did you not sometime back experience that
your own voice was thrown from your body?" "Yes,"I answered. "These
crazed persons or rather experiences depraved, are shouting in the
cavern beyond,"he said. "They are in front; their voices pass us to
burst into expression in the rear."Then, even as he spoke, from a
fungus stalk near us, a hideous creature unfolded itself, and
shambled to my side. It had the frame of a man, and yet it moved
like a serpent, writhing towards me. I stepped back in horror, but
the tall, ungainly creature reached out an arm and grasped me
tightly. Leaning over he placed his hideous mouth close to my ear,
and moaned : "Back, back, go thou back." I made no reply, being
horror-stricken. "Back, I say, back to earth, or "- He hesitated,
and still possessed of fear, and unable to reply, I was silent.
"Then go on,"he said, "on to your destiny, unhappy man,"and
slinking back to the fungus whence he arose, he disappeared from
sight. "Come,"said my guide, "let us pass the Drunkard's Den. This
was but a straggler; nerve yourself, for his companions will soon
surround us."

CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE DRUNKARDS' DEN. As we progressed the voices in
our rear became more faint, and yet the whistling volleys of
screeching voice bombs passed us as before. I shuddered in
anticipation of the sight that was surely to meet our gaze, and
could not but tremble for fear. Then I stopped end recoiled, for at
my very feet I beheld a huge, living human head. It rested on the
solid rock, and had I not stopped suddenly when I did, I would have
kicked it at the next leap. The eyes of the monster were fixed in
supplication on my face; the great brow indicated intelligence, the
finely cut mouth denoted refinement, the well-modeled head denoted
brain, but the whole constituted a monster. The mouth opened, and
a whizzing, arrow voice swept past, and was lost in the distance.
"What is this?"I gasped. "The fate of a drunkard,"my guide replied.
"This was once an intelligent man, but now he has lost his body,
and enslaved his soul, in the den of drink beyond us, and has been
brought here by his comrades, who thus rid themselves of his
presence. Here he must rest eternally. He can not move, he has but
one desire, drink, and that craving, deeper than life, can not be
satiated." "But he desires to speak; speak lower, man, or head of
man, if you wish me to know your wants,"I said, and leaned toward
him. Then the monster whispered, and I caught the words: "Back,
back, go thou back!" I made no reply. "Back I say, back to earth or
"- Still I remained silent. "Then go on,"he said; "on to your
destiny, unhappy man.""This is horrible," I muttered. "Come,"said
the guide, "let us proceed." And we moved onward. Now I perceived
many such heads about us, all resting upright on the stony floor.
Some were silent, others were shouting, others still were
whispering and endeavoring to attract my attention. As we hurried
on I saw more and more of these abnormal creatures. Some were in
rows, resting against each other, leaving barely room for us to
pass between, but at last, much to my relief, we left them behind
us. But I found that I had no cause for congratulation, when I felt
myself clutched by a powerful hand- a hand as large as that of a
man fifty feet in height. I looked about expecting to see a
gigantic being, but instead beheld a shrunken pigmy. The whole man
seemed but a single hand- a Brobdingnag hand affixed to the body of
a Lilliputian.

"Do not struggle,"said the guide; "listen to what he wishes to
impart." I leaned over, placing my ear close to the mouth of the
monstrosity. "Back, back, go thou back,"it whispered. "What have I
to fear ?"I asked. "Back, I say, back to earth, or "- "Or what?"I
said. "Then go on; on to your destiny, unhappy man,"he answered,
and the hand loosed its grasp. My guide drew me onward. Then, from
about us, huge hands arose; on all sides they waved in the air;
some were closed and were shaken as clenched fists, others moved
aimlessly with spread fingers, others still pointed to the passage
we had traversed, and in a confusion of whispers I heard from the
pigmy figures a babble of cries, "Back, back, go thou back."Again
I hesitated, the strain upon my nerves was becoming unbearable; I
glanced backward and saw a swarm of misshaped diminutive fortes,
each holding up a monstrous arm and hand. The passage behind us was
closed against retreat. Every form possessed but one hand, the
other and the entire body seemingly had been drawn into this
abnormal member. While I thus meditated, momentarily, as by a
single thought each hand closed, excepting the index finger,
Listen,"he said, "have you not observed that these creatures do not
seek to harm you? Have not all of them spoken kindly, have any
offered violence?" "No,"I replied, "but they are horrible." "That
they realize; but fearing that you will prove to be as weak as they
have been, and will become as they are now, they warn you back.
However, I say to you, if you have courage sufficient, you need
have no fear. Come, rely on me, and do not be surprised at anything
that appears." Again we went forward. I realized now my utter
helplessness. I became indifferent again; I could neither retrace
my footsteps alone, nor guide them forward in the path I was to
pursue. I submissively relied on my guide, and as stoical as he
appeared to be, I moved onward to new scenes. We came to a great
chamber which, as we halted on its edge, seemed to be a prodigious
amphitheater. In its center a rostrum-like stone of a hundred feet
in diameter, flat and circular on the top, reared itself about
twelve feet above the floor, and to the base of this rostrum the
floor of the room sloped evenly. The amphitheater was fully a
thousand feet in diameter, of great height, and the floor was
literally alive with grotesque beings. Imagination could not depict
an abnormal human form that did not exhibit itself to my startled
gaze. One peculiarity now presented itself to my mind; each
abnormal part seemed to be created at the expense of the remainder
of the body. Thus, to my right I beheld a single leg, fully twelve
feet in height, surmounted by a puny human form, which on this leg,
hopped ludicrously away. I saw close behind this huge limb a great
ear attached to a small head and body; then a nose so large that
the figure to which it was attached was forced to hold the face
upward, in order to prevent the misshaped organ from rubbing on the
stony floor. Here a gigantic forehead rested on a shrunken face and
body, and there a pair of enormous feet were walking, seemingly
attached to the body of a child, and yet the face was that of a
man. If an artist were to attempt to create as many revolting
figures as possible, each with some member out of proportion to the
rest of the body, he could not add one form to those upon this
floor. And yet, I again observed that each exaggerated organ seemed
to have drawn itself into existence by absorbing the remainder of
the body. We stood on, the edge of this great room, and I pondered
the scene before my eyes. At length my guide broke the silence:
"You must cross this floor; no other passage is known. Mark well my
words, heed my advice." "This is the Drunkards' Den. These men are
lost to themselves and to the world. Every member of this assembly
once passed onward as you are now doing, in [ the ] charge of a
guide. They failed to reach the goal to which you aspire, and
retreating, reached this chamber, to become victims to the drink
habit. Some of these creatures have been here for ages, others only
for a short period." "Why are they so distorted?"I asked. "Because
matter is now only partly subservient to will,"he replied. "The
intellect and mind of a drunkard on surface earth becomes abnormal
by the influence of an intoxicant, but his real form is unseen,
although evidently misshapen and partly subject to the perception
of a few only of his fellow men. Could you see the inner form of an
earth surface drunkard, you would perceive as great a mental
monstrosity as is any physical monster now before you, and of the
two the physically abnormal creature is really the least
objectionable. Could you see the mind configurations of an assembly
of surface earth topers, you would perceive a class of beings as
much distorted mentally as are these physically. A drunkard is a
monstrosity. On surface earth the mind becomes abnormal; here the
body suffers." "Why is it,"I asked, "that parts of these creatures
shrink away as some special organ increases?" "Because the abnormal
member can grow only by abstracting its substance from the other
portions of the body. An increasing arm enlarges itself by drawing
its strength front the other parts, hence the body withers as the
hand enlarges, and in turn the hand shrinks when the leg increases
in size. The total weight of the individual remains about the same.
"Men on earth judge of men not by what they are, but by what they
seem to be. The physical form is apparent to the sense of sight,
the real man is unseen. However, as the boot that encloses a foot
can not altogether hide the form of the foot within, so the body
that encloses the life entity, can not but exhibit here and there
the character of the dominating spirit within. Thus a man's
features may grow to indicate the nature of the enclosed spirit,
for the controlling character of that spirit will gradually impress
itself on the material part of man. Even on surface earth, where
the matter side of man dominates, a vicious spirit will produce a
villainous countenance, a mediocre mind a vapid face, and an
amorous soul will even protrude the anterior part of the skull.
"Carry the same law to this location, and it will be seen that as
mind, or spirit, is here the master, and matter is the slave, the
same rule should, under natural law, tend to produce such abnormal
figures as you perceive. Hence the part of a man's spirit that is
endowed most highly sways the corresponding part of his physical
body at the expense of the remainder. Gradually the form is altered
under the relaxing influence of this fearful intra-earth
intoxicant, and eventually but one organ remains to tell of the
symmetrical man who formerly existed. Then, when he is no longer
capable of self-motion, the comrades carry the drunkard's fate,
which is here the abnormal being you have seen, into the selected
corridor, and deposit it among others of its kind, as in turn the
bearers are destined sometime to be carried by others. We reached
this cavern through a corridor in which heads and arms were
abnormal, but in others may be found great feet, great legs, or
other portions of self-abused man. "I should tell you, furthermore,
that on surface earth a drunkard is not less abnormal than these
creatures; but men can not see the form of the drunkard's spirit.
Could they perceive the image of the real man life that corresponds
to the material part, it would appear not less distorted and
hideous. The soul of a mortal protrudes from the visible body as
down expands from a thistle seed, but it is invisible. Drink drives
the spirit of an earth-surface drunkard to unnatural forms, not
less grotesque than these physical distortions. Could you see the
real drunkard on surface earth he would be largely outside the body
shell, and hideous in the extreme. As a rule, the spirit of an
earth-surface drunkard dominates the nose and face, and if mortal
man could be suddenly gifted with the sense of mind-sight, they
would find themselves surrounded by persons as misshapen as any
delirious imagination can conjure. Luckily for humanity this scene
is as yet withheld from man, for life would otherwise be a fearful
experience, because man has not the power to resist the temptation
to abuse drink." "Tell me,"I said, "how long will those beings rest
in these caverns?" "They have been here for ages,"replied the
guide; "they are doomed to remain for ages yet." "You have
intimated that if my courage fails I will return to this cavern and
become as they are. Now that you Have warned me of my doom, do you
imagine that anything, even sudden death, can swerve me from my
journey ? Death is surely preferable to such an existence as this."
"Do not be so confident. Every individual before you has had the
same opportunity, and has been warned as you have been. They could
not undergo the test to which they were subjected, and you may
fail. Besides, on surface earth are not men constantly confronted
with the doom of the drunkard, and do they not, in the face of this
reality, turn back and seek his caverns? The journey of life is not
so fearful that they should become drunkards to shrink from its
responsibilities. You have reached this point in safety. You have
passed the sentinels without, and will soon be accosted by the band
before us. Listen well now to my advice. A drunkard always seeks to
gain companions, to draw others down to his own level, and you will
be tried as never have you been before. Taste not their liquor by
whatever form or creature presented. They have no power to harm him
who has courage to resist. If they entreat you, refuse; if they
threaten, refuse; if they offer inducements, refuse to drink. Let
your answer be No, and have no fear. If your strength fail you,
mark well my "- Before he could complete his sentence I felt a
pressure, as of a great wind, and suddenly found myself seized in
an embrace irresistible, and then, helpless as a feather, was swept
out into the cavern of the drunkards.

CHAPTER XXXIX. AMONG THE DRUNKARDS. I remember once to have stood
on the edge of Niagara's great whirlpool, but not more fearful did
its seething waters then seem than did the semi-human whirl into
which I had now been plunged. Whether my guide had been aware of
the coming clove that separated us I never knew, but, as his words
were interrupted, I infer that he was not altogether ready to part
from my company. Be this as it may, he disappeared from sight, and,
as by a concerted move, the cries of the drunkards subsided
instantly. I found myself borne high in the air, perched on a huge
hand that was carried by its semi-human comrades. It seemed as
though the contents of that vast hall had been suddenly thrown
beneath me, for, as I looked about, I saw all around a sea of human
fragments, living, moving parts of men. Round and round that hall
we circled as an eddy whirls in a rock-bound basin, and not less
silently than does the water of an eddy. Then I perceived that the
disjointed mass of humanity moved as a spiral, in unison, throbbing
like a vitalized stream, bearing me submissively on its surface.
Gradually the distance between myself and the center stone
lessened, and then I found that, as if carried in the groove of a
gigantic living spiral, I was being swept towards the stone
platform in the center of the room. There was method in the
movements of the drunkards, although I could not analyze the
intricacies of their complex reel. Finally I was borne to the
center stone, and by a sudden toss of the hand, in the palm of
which I was seated, I was thrown upon the raised platform. Then in
unison the troop swung around the stone, and I found myself gazing
on a mass of vitalized fragments of humanity. Quickly a figure
sprung upon the platform, and in him I discerned a seemingly
perfect man. He came to my side and grasped my hand as if he were
a friend. I could not resist his pleasing promise. I suddenly and
unaccountably believed in his sincerity. He impressed the with
confidence in his truthfulness, yes, against my better judgment,
convinced me that he must be a friend, a savior. Grasping him by
the hand I thanked him for his interest in a disconsolate wanderer,
and assured him of my confidence. "I am in your hands,"I said, "I
will obey you implicitly. I thank you, my deliverer; lead me back
to surface earth and receive the gratitude of a despairing mortal."
"This I will surely do,"he said; "rest your case in my hands, do
not concern yourself in the least about your future. Before
acquiescing in your desire, however, I will explain part of the
experiences through which you have recently passed. You have been
in the control of an evil spirit, and have been deceived. The
grotesque figures, the abnormal beings about you, exist only in
your disordered imagination. They are not real. These persons are
happy and free from care or pain. They live in bliss inexpressible.
They have a life within a life, and the outward expression that you
have perceived is as the uncouth hide and figure that incloses the
calm, peaceful eye of a toad. Look at their eyes, not at their
seemingly distorted forms." I turned to the throng and beheld a
multitude of upturned faces mildly beaming upon me. As I glanced
from eye to eye of each countenance, the repulsive figure
disappeared from my view, and a sweet expression of innocence was
all that was disclosed to me. I realized that I had judged by the
outer garment. I had wronged these fellow-beings. A sense of
remorse came over me, a desire to atone for my short-sightedness.
"What can I offer as a retribution?"I asked. "I have injured these
people." "Listen,"was the reply. "These serene intelligences are
happy. They are as a band of brothers. They seek to do you a
kindness, to save you from disaster. One hour of experience such as
they enjoy is worth a hundred years of the pleasures known to you.
This delicious favor, an hour of bliss, they freely offer you, and
after you have partaken of their exquisite joy, I will conduct you
back to earth's surface whenever you desire to leave us."He
emphasized the word, desire. "I am ready, ' I replied; "give me
this promised delight." "Do not fear,"he said; "obey our request,
and you will not be harmed." "What do you desire?"I asked. He
pointed to the center of the stone, and I saw thereon many
gigantic, inverted fungus bowls. The gills of some had been crushed
to a pulp, and had saturated themselves with liquid which, perhaps
by a species of fermentation, had undergone a structural change;
others were as yet intact; others still contained men intently
cutting the gills into fragments and breaking the fruit preparatory
to further manipulation. "You are to drink with us,"he replied.
"No,"I said; "I will not drink." "Then you must die; to refuse to
drink with us is to invite death." "So must it be; I will not
drink." We stood facing each other, apparently both meditating on
the situation. I remember to have been surprised, not that the man
before me had been able to spring from the floor to the table rock
on which I stood, but that so fair a personage could have been a
companion of the monstrosities about me. He was a perfect type of
manhood, and was exquisitely clothed in a loose, flowing robe that
revealed and heightened the beauty of his symmetrical form. His
face was fair, yet softly tinted with rich, fresh color; his hair
and beard were neatly trimmed; his manner was polished, and his
countenance frank and attractive. The contrast between the
preternatural shapes from among whom he sprung and himself was as
between a demon and an angel. I marveled that I had not perceived
him before, for such a one should have been conspicuous because so
fair; but I reflected that it was quite natural that among the
thousands of grotesque persons about me, one attractive form should
have escaped notice. Presently he spoke again, seemingly having
repented of his display of temper. "I am a friend,"he said; "a
deliverer. I will serve you as. I have others before you. Lean on
me, listen to my story, accept my proffered friendship." Then he
continued: "When you have rested, I will guide you in safety back
to upper earth, and restore you to your friends." The genial
allurer turned to the table rock behind us, and continued: "In
these fungus bowls we foment the extract of life. The precious
cordial is as a union of the quintessential spirits of joy, peace,
tranquillity, happiness, and delight. Could man abstract from
ecstasy the thing that underlies the sense that gives that word a
meaning, his product would not approach the power of the potent
liquids in these vessels." "Of what are they composed?"I asked. "Of
derivatives of the rarest species of the fungus family,"he
answered. " They are made by formulae that are the result of
thousands of years of experimentation. Come, let us not delay
longer the hour of bliss." Taking me by the hand, my graceful
comrade led me to the nearest bowl. Then on closer view I perceived
that its contents were of a deep green color, and in active
commotion, and although no vapor was apparent, a delightful
sensation impressed my faculties. I am not sure that I inhaled at
all,- the feeling was one of penetration, of subtile, magic
absorption. My companion took a tiny shell which he dipped into the
strange cauldron. Holding the tiny cup before me, he spoke the one
word, "Drink." Ready to acquiesce, forgetful of the warning I had
received, I grasped the cup, and raised it to my lips, and as I did
so chanced to glance at my tempter's face, and saw not the supposed
friend I had formerly observed, but, as through a mask fair in
outline, the countenance of an exulting demon, regarding me with a
sardonic grin. In an instant he had changed from man to devil. I
dashed the cup upon the rock. "No; I will not drink,"I shouted.
Instantly the cavern rung with cries of rage. A thousand voices
joined as by accord, and simultaneously the throng of fragments of
men began to revolve again. The mysterious spiral seemed to unwind,
but I could not catch the method of its movement. The motion was
like that of an uncoiling serpent bisected lengthwise, the two
halves of the body seeming to slide against each other. Gradually
that part of the cavern near the stone on which I stood became
clear of its occupants, and at last I perceived that the throng had
receded to the outer edge. Then the encircling side walls of the
amphitheater became visible, and as water sinks into sand, the
medley of fragments of humanity disappeared from view. I turned to
my companion; he, too, had vanished. I glanced towards the liquor
cauldrons; the stone was bare. I alone occupied the gigantic hall.
No trace remained to tell of the throng that a short time
previously had surrounded and mocked me. Desolate, distracted, I
threw myself upon the stone, and cursed my miserable self. "Come
back,"I cried, "come back. I will drink, drink, drink."

The End of the Earth

CHAPTER XL. FURTHER TEMPTATION.- ETIDORHPA. Then, as my voice
reverberated from the outer recesses, I caught a sound as of music
in the distance. I raised my head and listened- yes, surely there
was music. The melody became clearly distinct, and soon my senses
were aware that both vocal and instrumental music were combined.
The airs which came floating were sweet, simple, and beautiful. The
voices and accompanying strains approached, but I could distinguish
no words. By and by, from the corridors of the cavern, troops of
bright female forms floated into view. They were clad in robes
ranging from pure white to every richest hue, contrasting
strangely, and in the distance their rainbow brilliancy made a
gorgeous spectacle. Some were fantastically attired in short gowns,
such as I imagine were worn by the dancing girls of sacred history,
others had kirtles of a single bright color, others of many shades
intermingled, while others still were dressed in gauze-like fabrics
of pure white. As they filed into the cavern, and approached me,
they formed into platoons, or into companies, and then, as
dissolving views come and go, they presented first one and then
another figure. Sometimes they would stretch in great circling
lines around the hall, again they would form into squares, and
again into geometrical figures of all shades and forms, but I
observed that with every change they drew nearer to the stone on
which I rested. They were now so near that their features could be
distinguished, and never before had I seen such loveliness in human
mold. Every face was as perfect as a master's picture of the
Madonna, and yet no two seemed to possess the same type of beauty.
Some were of dark complexion with glossy, raven hair, others were
fair with hair ranging from light brown to golden. The style of
head dress, as a rule, was of the simplest description. A tinted
ribbon, or twisted cord, over the head, bound their hair with
becoming grace, and their silken locks were either plaited into
braids, curled into ringlets, or hung loosely, flowing in wavelets
about their shoulders. Some held curious musical instruments,
others beautiful wands, and altogether they produced a scenic
effect of rare beauty that the most extravagant dream of fairyland
could not surpass. Thus it was that I became again the center of a
throng, not of repulsive monsters, but of marvelously lovely
beings. They were as different from those preceding as darkness is
from daylight. Could any man from the data of my past experiences
have predicted such a scene? Never before had the semblance of a
woman appeared, never before had an intimation been given that the
gentle sex existed in these silent chambers. Now, from the
grotesque figures and horrible cries of the former occupants of
this same cavern, the scene had changed to a conception of the
beautiful and artistic, such as a poetic spirit might evolve in an
extravagant dream of higher fairy land. I glanced above; the great
hall was clothed in brilliant colors, the bare rocks had
disappeared, the dome of that vast arch reaching to an immeasurable
height, was decorated in all the colors of the rainbow. Tags and
streamers fluttered in breezes that also moved the garments of the
angelic throng about me, but which I could not sense; profiles of
enchanting faces pervaded the glimmering space beyond; I alone was
but an onlooker, not a participant of the joys about me. The
movements of the seraph-like figures continued, innumerable forms
and figures followed forms and figures innumerable, and music
indescribable blended with the poetry of motion. I was rapt, the
past disappeared, my former mind was blotted from existence, the
world vanished, and I became a thrill of joy, a sensation of
absolute delight. The band of spirits or fairy forms reached the
rock at my feet, but I did not know how long a time they consumed
in doing this; it may have been a second, and it may have been an
eternity. Neither did I care. A single moment of existence such as
I experienced, seemed worth an age of any other pleasure. Circling
about me, these ethereal creatures paused from their motions, and,
as the music ceased, I stood above them, and yet in their midst,
and gazed out into a distance illimitable, but not less beautiful
in the expanse than was the adjacent part. The cavern had
altogether disappeared, and in the depths about me as far as the
eye could reach, seemingly into the broad expanse of heaven, I saw
the exquisite forms that I have so imperfectly described. Then a
single band from the throng lightly sprung upon the stony terrace
where I stood, and sung and danced before me. Every motion was
perfect as imagination could depict, every sound was concentrated
extract of melody. This band retired to be replaced by another,
which in turn gave way to another, and still another, until, as in
space we have no standard, time vanished, and numbers ceased to be
numbers. No two of the band of dancers were clothed alike, no two
songs were similar, though all were inexpressibly enchanting. The
first group seemed perfect, and yet the second was better, and each
succeeding band sung sweeter songs, were more beautiful, and richer
in dress than those preceding. I became enveloped in the aesthetic
atmosphere, my spirit seemed to be loosened from the body, it was
apparently upon the point of escaping from its mortal frame;
suddenly the music ceased, the figures about became passive, and
every form standing upright and graceful, gazed upon my face, and
as I looked at the radiant creatures, each successive face, in
turn, seemed to grow more beautiful, each form more exquisite than
those about. Then, in the distance, I observed the phalanx divide,
forming into two divisions, separated by a broad aisle, stretching
from my feet to the limit of space without, and down this aisle I
observed a single figure advancing toward me. As she approached,
the phalanx closed in behind her, and when at last she reached the
stone on which I stood, she stepped, or was wafted to my side, and
the phalanx behind moved together and was complete again. "My name
is Etidorhpa. In me you behold the spirit that elevates man, and
subdues the most violent of passions. In history, so far back in
the dim ages as to be known now as legendary mythology, have I
ruled and blessed the world. Unclasp my power over man and beast,
and while heaven dissolves, the charms of Paradise will perish. I
know no master. The universe bows to my authority. Stars and suns
enamored pulsate and throb in space and kiss each other in waves of
light; atoms cold embrace and cling together; structures inanimate
affiliate with and attract inanimate structures; bodies dead to
other noble passions are not dead to love. The savage beast, under
my enchantment, creeps to her lair, and gently purrs over her
offspring; even man becomes less violent, and sheathes his weapon
and smothers his hatred as I soothe his passions beside the loved
ones in the privacy of his home.

"I have been known under many titles, and have comforted many
peoples. Strike my name from Time's record, and the lovely
daughters of Zeus and Dione would disappear; and with them would
vanish the grace and beauty of woman; the sweet conception of the
Froth Child of the Cyprus Sea would be lost; Venus, the Goddess of
love, would have no place in song, and Love herself, the holiest
conception of the poet, man's superlative conception of Heaven's
most precious charms, would be buried with the myrtle and the rose.
My name is Etidorhpa; interpret it rightly, and you have what has
been to humanity the essence of love, the mother of all that
ennobles. He who loves a wife worships me; she, who in turn makes
a home happy, is typical of me. I am Etidorhpa, the beginning and
the end of earth. Behold in me the antithesis of envy, the opposite
of malice, the enemy of sorrow, the mistress of life, the queen of
immortal bliss. "Do you know,"she continued, and her voice, soft
and sweet, carried with it a pleasurable sense of truthfulness
indescribable, "do you know that man's idea of heaven, places me,
Etidorhpa, on the highest throne? With the charm of maiden pure, I
combine the devotion of wife and the holiness of mother. Take from
the life of man the treasures I embody, and he will be homeless,
childless, loveless. The thought of Heaven will in such a case be
as the dismal conception of a dreary platitude. A life in such a
Heaven, a Heaven devoid of love ( and this the Scriptures teach ),
is one of endless torment. "Love, by whatever name the conception
is designated, rules the world. Divest the cold man of science, of
the bond that binds him to his life-thought, and his work is ended.
Strike from the inaster in music the chord that links his soul to
the voice lie breathes, and his songs will be hushed. Deaden the
sense of love which the artist bears leis art, and as the spirit
that underlies leis thoughtscenes vanishes, his touch becomes
chilled, and his brush inexpressive. The soldier thinks of his home
and country, and without a murinur sheds his life blood. "And yet
there are debasing phases of love, for as love of country builds a
nation, so love of pillage may destroy it. Love of the Holy and
tile beautiful stalids in Iiullian life opposed to love of the
debasing and vicious, and I, Etidorhpa, am typical of the highest
love of man. As the wine force binds the molecules of the rose acid
the violet as well as those of noxious drugs, so the same soul
conception may serve the love of good or the love of evil. Love may
guide a tyrant or actuate a saint, may make man torture his fellow,
or strive to case leis pain. "Thus, man's propensity to serve his
holy or his evil passion may each be called a degree in love, and
in the serving of that passion the love of one heart may express
itself as the antithesis of love in another. As bitter is to some
men's taste more pleasant than sweet, and sour is yet more grateful
to others, so one man may love the beautiful, another dclight in
the grotesque, and a third may love to see his neighbor suffer.
Amid these, the phase of love that ennobles, brings the greatest
degree of pleasure and comfort to mankind, but the love that
degrades is love nevertheless, by whatever name the expression of
the passion may be called. Love rules the world, and typical of
man's interisest, holiest love, I, Etidorlipa, stand the Soul of
Love Supreme." She hesitated. "Go on." "I have already said, and in
saying this have told the truth, I come from beyond the empty shell
of a materialistic gold and silver conception of Heaven. Go with
me, and in my bottle you will find mail's soul devotion, regardless
of material surroundings. I have said, and truly, the corridors of
the Heaven mansion, enriched by precious stones and metals fine,
but destitute of my smiles and graces, are deserted. The golden
calf is no longer worshiped, cobwebs cling in festoons motionless,
and the dust of selfish thoughts perverted, dry and black as the
soot from Satan's fires settling therein, as the dust of an
antiquated sarcophagus, rest undisturbed. Place on one side the
Heaven of which gold-bound misers sing, and on the other Etidorhpa
and the treasures that come with me to man and woman, ( for without
me neither wife, child, nor father could exist,) and from any other
heaven mankind will turn away. The noblest gift of Heaven to
humanity is the highest sense of love, and I, Etidorhpa, am the
soul of love." She ceased speaking, and as I looked at the form
beside me I forgot myself in the rapture of that gaze. Crush the
colors of the rainbow into a single line possessed of the
attributes of all the others, and multiply that entity to infinity,
and you have less richness than rested in any of the complex colors
shown in the trimming of her raiment. Lighten the softness of
eiderdown a thousand times, and yet maintain its sense of
substance, and you have not conceived of the softness of the gauze
that decked her simple, flowing garments. Gather the shadows cast
by a troop of radiant angels, then sprinkle the resultant shade
with star dust, and color therewith a garment brighter than satin,
softer than silk, and more ethereal than light itself, and you have
less beauty than reposed in the modest dress that enveloped her
figure. Abstract the perfume from the sweetest oriental grasses,
and combine with it the essential spirit of the wild rose, then add
thereto the soul of ambergris, and the quintessential extracts of
the finest aromatics of the East, and you have not approached the
exquisite fragrance that penetrated my very being at her approach.
She stood before me, slender, lithe, symmetrical, radiant. Her hair
was more beautiful than pen can depict; it was colorless because it
can not be described by colors known to mortals. Her face paled the
beauty of all who had preceded her. She could not be a fairy, for
no conception of a fairy can approach such loveliness; she was not
a spirit, for surely material substance was a part of her form; she
was not an angel, for no abnormal, irrational wing protruded from
her shoulder to blemish her seraphic figure. "No,"I said musingly
; "she is a creature of other climes; the Scriptures tell of no
such being; she is neither human nor angelic, but "- "But what?"she
said. "I do not know,"I answered. "Then I will tell you,"she
replied. "Yes; I will tell you of myself and of my companions. I
will show you our home, carrying you through the shadows of heaven
to exhibit that fair land, for heaven without Etidorhpa casts a
shadow in comparison therewith. See,"she said, as with her dainty
fingers she removed from her garment a fragment of transparent film
that I had not previously observed; "see, this is a cobweb that
clung to my skirt, as, on my way to meet you, I passed through the
dismal corridors of the materialists' loveless heaven." She dropped
it on the floor, and I stooped to pick it up, but vainly- my
fingers passed through it as through a mist. "You must be an
angel,"I stammered. She smiled. "Come,"she said, "do not consume
your time with thoughts of materialistic heaven; come with me to
that brighter land beyond, and in those indescribable scenes we,
you and I, will wander together forever." She held out her hand; I
hesitatingly touched it, and then raised it to my lips. She made no
resistance. I dropped upon my knees. "Are you to be mine?"I cried.
"Mine forever?" "Yes,"she answered; "if you will it, for he who
loves will be loved in turn." "I will do it,"I said ; "I give
myself to you, be you what you may, be your home where it may, I
give up the earth behind me, and the hope of heaven before me, the
here and the hereafter I will sacrifice. Let us hasten,"I said, for
she made no movement. She shook her head. "You must yet be tempted
as never before, and you must resist the tempter. You can not pass
into the land of Etidorlipa until you have suffered as only the
damned can suffer, until you have withstood the pangs of thirst,
and have experienced heat and cold indescribable. Remember the
warning of your former guide, mark well the words of Etidorhpa: you
must not yield. 'Twas to serve you that I came before you now,
'twas to preserve you from the Drunkard's Cavern that I have given
you this vision of the land beyond the End of Earth where, if you
will serve yourself, we will meet again. She held aloft two tiny
cups; I sprung to my feet and grasped one of them, and as I glanced
at the throng in front of me, every radiant figure held aloft in
the left hand a similar cup. All were gazing in my face. I looked
at the transparent cup in my hand; it appeared to be partly filled
with a green liquid. I looked at her cup and saw that it contained
a similar fluid. Forgetting the warning she had so recently given,
I raised the cup to my lips, and just before touching it glanced
again at her face. The fair creature stood with bowed head, her
face covered with her hand; her very form and attitude spoke of
sorrow and disappointment, and she trembled in distress. She held
one hand as though to thrust back a form that seemed about to force
itself beyond her figure, for peering exultingly from behind,
leered the same Satanic face that met my gaze on the preceding
occasion, when in the presence of the troop of demons, I had been
tempted by the perfect man. Dashing the cup to the floor I shouted:
"No; I will not drink." Etidorhpa dropped upon her knees and
clasped her hands. The Satanic figure disappeared from sight.
Realizing that we had triumphed over the tempter, I also fell upon
my knees in thankfulness. CHAPTER XLI. MISERY. As all the bubbles
in a glass shrink and vanish when the first collapses, so the troop
of fairy-like forms before me disintegrated, and were gone. The
delicate being, whose hand I held, fluttered as does a mist in the
first gust of a sudden gale, and then dissolved into transparency.
The gaily decked amphitheater disappeared, the very earth cavern
passed from existence, and I found myself standing solitary and
alone in a boundless desert. I turned towards every point of the
compass only to find that no visible object appeared to break the
monotony. I stood upon a floor of pure white sand which stretched
to the horizon in gentle wave-like undulations as if the swell of
the ocean had been caught, transformed to sand, and fixed. I bent
down and scooped a handful of the sand, and raised it in the palm
of my hand, letting it sift back again to earth; it was surely
sand. I pinched my flesh, and pulled my hair, I tore my garments,
stamped upon the sand, and shouted aloud to demonstrate that I
myself was still myself. It was real, yes, real. I stood alone in
a desert of sand. Morning was dawning, and on one side the great
sun rose slowly and majestically. "Thank God for the sun,"I cried.
"Thank God for the light and heat of the sun." I was again on
surface earth; once more I beheld that glorious orb for the sight
of which I had so often prayed when I believed myself miserable in
the dismal earth caverns, and which I had been willing to give my
very life once more to behold. I fell on my knees, and raised my
hands in thankfulness. I blessed the rising sun, the illimitable
sand, the air about me, and the blue heavens above. I blessed all
that was before me, and again and again returned thanks for my
delivery from the caverns beneath me. I did not think to question
by what power this miracle had been accomplished. I did not care to
do so; had I thought of the matter at all I would not have dared to
question for fear the transition might prove a delusion. I turned
towards the sun, and walked eastward. As the day progressed and the
sun rose into the heavens, I maintained my journey, aiming as best
I could to keep the same direction. The heat increased, and when
the sun reached the zenith it seemed as though it would melt the
marrow in my bones. The sand, as white as snow and hot as lava,
dazzled my eyes, and I covered them with my hands. The sun in the
sky felt as if it were a ball of white hot iron near my head. It
seemed small, and yet appeared to shine as through a tube directed
only towards myself. Vainly did I struggle to escape and get beyond
its boundary, the tube seemed to follow my every motion, directing
the blazing shafts, and concentrating them ever upon my defenseless
person. I removed my outer garments, and tore my shirt into fibers
hoping to catch a waft of breeze, and with one hand over my eyes,
and the other holding my coat above my head, endeavored to escape
the mighty flood of heat, but vainly. The fiery rays streamed
through the garment as mercury flows through a film of gauze. They
penetrated my flesh, and vaporized my blood. My hands, fingers, and
arms puffed out as a bladder of air expands under the influence of
heat. My face swelled to twice, thrice its normal size, and at last
my eyes were closed, for my cheeks and eyebrows met. I rubbed my
shapeless hand over my sightless face, and found it as round as a
ball; the nose had become imbedded in the expanded flesh, and my
ears had disappeared in the same manner. I could no longer see the
still, but felt the vivid, piercing rays I could not evade. I do
not know whether I walked or rolled along; I only know that I
struggled to escape those deadly rays. Then I prayed for death, and
in the same breath begged the powers that had transferred me to
surface earth to carry the back again to the caverns below. The
recollection of their cool, refreshing atmosphere was as the
thought of heaven must be to a lost spirit. I experienced the agony
of a damned soul, and now, in contradistinction to former times,
considered as my idea of perfect happiness the dismal earth caverns
of other days. I thought of the day I had stood at the mouth of the
Kentucky cave, and waded into the water with my guide; I recalled
the refreshing coolness of the stream in the darkness of that
cavern when the last ray of sunshine disappeared, and I cursed
myself for longing then for sunshine, and the surface earth. Fool
that man is, I mentally cried, not to be contented with that which
is, however he may be situated, and wherever he may be placed. This
is but a retribution, I am being cursed for my discontented mind,
this is hell, and in comparison with this hell all else on or in
earth is happiness. Then I damned the sun, the earth, the very God
of all, and in my frenzy cursed everything that existed. I felt my
puffed limbs, and prayed that I might become lean again. I asked to
shrink to a skeleton, for seemingly my misery came with my expanded
form; but I prayed and cursed in vain. So I struggled on in agony,
every moment seemingly covering a multitude of years; struggled
along like a lost soul plodding in an endless expanse of
ever-increasing, ever-concentrating hell. At last, however, the day
declined, the heat decreased, and as it did so my distorted body
gradually regained its normal size, my eyesight returned, and
finally I stood in that wilderness of sand watching the great red
sun sink into the earth, as in the morning I had watched it rise.
But between the sunrise and the sunset there had been an eternity
of suffering, and then, as if released from a spell, I dropped
exhausted upon the sand, and seemed to sleep. I dreamed of the sun,
and that an angel stood before me, and asked why I was miserable,
and in reply I pointed to the sun. "See,"I said, "the author of the
misery of man." Said the angel: "Were there no sun there would be
no men, but were there no men there would still be misery." "Misery
of what?"I asked. "Misery of mind,"replied the angel. "Misery is a
thing, misery is not a conception- pain is real, pain is not an
impression. Misery and pain would still exist and prey upon mind
substance were there no men, for mind also is real, and not a mere
conception. The pain you have suffered has not been the pain of
matter, but the pain of spirit. Matter can not suffer. Were it
matter that suffered, the heated sand would writhe in agony. No; it
is only mind and spirit that experience pain, or pleasure, and
neither mind nor spirit can evade its destiny, even if it escape
from the body." Then I awoke and saw once more the great red sun
rise from the sand-edge of my desolate world, and I became aware of
a new pain, for now I perceived the fact that I experienced the
sense of thirst. The conception of the impression drew my mind to
the subject, and instantly intense thirst, the most acute of bodily
sufferings, possessed me. When vitalized tissue craves water, other
physical wants are unfelt; when man parches to death all other
methods of torture are disregarded. I thought no longer of the
rising sun, I remembered no more the burning sand of yesterday, I
felt only the pain of thirst. "Water, water, water,"I cried, and
then in the distance as if in answer to my cry, I beheld a lake of
water. Instantly every nerve was strained, every muscle stretched,
and I fled over the sands towards the welcome pool. On and on I
ran, and as I did so, the sun rising higher and higher, again began
to burn the sands beneath my feet, and roast the flesh upon my
bones. Once more I experienced that intolerable sense of pain, the
pain of living flesh disintegrating by fire, and now with thirst
gnawing at my vitals, and fire drying up the residue of my
evaporated blood, I struggled in agony towards a lake that vanished
before my gaze, to reappear just beyond. This day was more horrible
than the preceding, and yet it was the reverse so far as the action
of the sun on my flesh was concerned. My prayer of yesterday had
been fearfully answered, and the curses of the day preceding were
being visited upon my very self. I had prayed to become lean, and
instead of the former puffed tissue and expanded flesh, my body
contracted as does beef when dried. The tightening skin squeezed
upon the solidifying flesh, and as the moisture evaporated, it left
a shriveled integument, contracted close upon the bone. My joints
stood out as great protuberances, my skin turned to a dark amber
color, and my flesh became transparent as does wetted horn. I saw
my very vitals throb, I saw the empty blood vessels, the shriveled
nerves and vacant arteries of my frame. I could not close my eyes.
I could not shield them from the burning sun. I was a mummy, yet
living, a dried corpse walking over the sand, dead to all save
pain. I tried to fall, but could not, and I felt that, while the
sun was visible, I must stand upright; I could not stop, and could
not stoop. Then at last the malevolent sun sank beneath the
horizon, and as the last ray disappeared again, I fell upon the
sand. I did not sleep, I did not rest, I did not breathe nor live
a human; I only existed as a living pain, the conception of pain
realized into a conscious nucleus,- and so the night passed. Again
the sun arose, and with the light of her first ray I saw near at
hand a caravan, camels, men, horses, a great cavalcade. They
approached rapidly and surrounded me. The leader of the band
alighted and raised me to my feet, for no longer had I the power of
motion. He spoke to me kindly, and strange as it may seem to you,
but not at all strange did it seem to me, called me by name. "We
came across your tracks in the desert,"he said; "we are your
deliverers." I motioned for water; I could not speak. "Yes,"he
said, "water you shall have." Then from one of the skins that hung
across the hump of a camel he filled a crystal goblet with
sparkling water, and held it towards me, but just before the goblet
touched my lips he withdrew it and said: "I forgot to first extend
the greetings of our people." And then I noticed in his other hand
a tiny glass containing a green liquid, which he placed to my lips,
pronouncing the single word, "Drink." I fastened my gaze upon the
water, and opened my lips. I smelled the aroma of the powerful
narcotic liquid within the glass, and hastened to obey, but glanced
first at my deliverer, and in his stead saw the familiar face of
the satanic figure that twice before had tempted me. Instantly,
without a thought as to the consequences, without a fear as to the
result, I dashed the glass to the sand, and my voice returning, I
cried for the third time, "No; I will not drink." The troop of
camels instantly disappeared, as had the figures in the scenes
before, the tempter resolved into clear air, the sand beneath my
feet became natural again, and I became myself as I had been before
passing through the hideous ordeal. The fact of my deliverance from
the earth caverns had, I now realized, been followed by temporary
aberration of my mind, but at last I saw clearly again, the painful
fancy had passed, the delirium was over. I fell upon my knees in
thankfulness; the misery through which I had passed had proven to
be illusory, the earth caverns were beneath me, the mirage and
temptations were not real, the horrors I had experienced were
imaginary- thank God for all this- and that the sand was really
sand. Solitary, alone, I kneeled in the desert barren, from horizon
to horizon desolation only surrounded, and yet the scene of that
illimitable waste, a fearful reality, it is true, was sweet in
comparison with the misery of body and soul about which I had
dreamed so vividly. "'Tis no wonder,"I said to myself, "that in the
moment of transition from the underground caverns to the sunshine
above, the shock should have disturbed my mental equilibrium, and
in the moment of reaction I should have dreamed fantastic and
horrible imaginings." A cool and refreshing breeze sprung now, from
I know not where; I did not care to ask; it was too welcome a gift
to question, and contrasted pleasantly with the misery of my past
hallucination. The sun was shining hot above me, the sand was
glowing, parched beneath me, and yet the grateful breeze fanned my
brow, and refreshed my spirit. "Thank God,"I cried, "for the
breeze, for the coolness that it brings; only those who have
experienced the silence of the cavern solitudes through which I
have passed, and added thereto, have sensed the horrors of the more
recent nightmare scenes, can appreciate the delights of a gust of
air." The incongruity of surrounding conditions, as connected with
affairs rational, did not appeal at all to my questioning senses,
it seemed as though the cool breeze, coming from out the
illimitable desolation of a heated waste was natural. I arose and
walked on, refreshed. From out that breeze my physical self drew
refreshment and strength. "Tis the cold,"I said; "the blessed
antithesis of heat, that supports life. Heat enervates, cold
stimulates; heat depresses, cold animates. Thank God for breezes,
winds, waters, cold." I turned and faced the gladsome breeze. "Tis
the source of life, I will trace it to its origin, I will leave the
accursed desert, the hateful sunshine, and seek the blissful
regions that give birth to cool breezes." I walked rapidly, and the
breeze became more energetic and cooler. With each increase of
momentum on my part, corresponding strength seemed to be added to
the breeze-both strength and coolness. "Is not this delightful?"I
murmured; "my God at last has come to be a just God. Knowing what
I wanted, He sent the breeze; in answer to my prayer the cool,
refreshing breeze arose. Damn the heat,"I cried aloud, as I thought
of the horrid day before; "blessed be the cold,"and as though in
answer to my cry the breeze stiffened and the cold strengthened
itself, and I again returned thanks to my Creator. With ragged coat
wrapped about my form I faced the breeze and strode onward towards
the home of the gelid wind that now dashed in gusts against my
person. Then I heard my footstep crunch, and perceived that the
sand was hard beneath my feet; I stooped over to examine it and
found it frozen. Strange, I reflected, strange that dry sand can
freeze, and then I noticed, for the first time, that spurts of snow
surrounded me, 'twas a sleety mixture upon which I trod, a crust of
snow and sand. A sense of dread came suddenly over me, and
instinctively I turned, affrighted, and ran away from the wind,
towards the desert behind me, back towards the sun, which, cold and
bleak, low in the horizon, was sinking. The sense of dread grew
upon me, and I shivered as I ran. With my back towards the breeze
I had blessed, I now fled towards the sinking still I had cursed.
I stretched out my arms in supplication towards that orb, for from
behind overhanging blackness spread, and about me roared a fearful
hurricane. Vainly. As I thought in mockery the heartless still
disappeared before my gaze, the hurricane surrounded me, and the
wind about me became intensely cold, and raved furiously. It seemed
as though the still had fled from my presence, and with the
disappearance of that orb, the outline of the earth was blotted
from existence. It was an awful blackness, and the universe was now
to me a blank. The cold strengthened and froze my body to the
marrow of my bones. First came the sting of frost, then the pain of
cold, then insensibility of flesh. My feet were benumbed, my limbs
motionless. I stood a statue, quiescent in the midst of the roaring
tempest. The earth, the sun, the heavens themselves, my very person
now had disappeared. Dead to the sense of pain or touch, sightless,
amid a blank, only the noise of the raging winds was to me a
reality. And as the creaking frost reached my brain and congealed
it, the sound of the tempest ceased, and then devoid of physical
senses, my quickened intellect, enslaved, remained imprisoned in
the frozen form it could not leave, and yet could no longer
control. Reflection after reflection passed through that
incarcerated thought entity, and as I meditated, the heinous
mistakes I had committed in the life that had passed, arose to
torment. God had answered my supplications, successively I had
experienced the hollowness of earthly pleasures, and had left each
lesson unheeded. Had I not alternately begged for and then cursed
each gift of God? Had I not prayed for heat, cold, light, and
darkness, and anathematized each? Had I not, when in perfect
silence, prayed for sound ; in sheltered caverns, prayed for winds
and storms; in the very corridors of heaven, and in the presence of
Etidorhpa, had I not sought for joys beyond? Had I not found each
pleasure of life a mockery, and notwithstanding each bitter lesson,
still pursued my headstrong course, alternately blessing and
cursing my Creator, and then myself, until now, amid a howling
waste, in perfect darkness, my conscious intellect was bound to the
frozen, rigid semblance of a body? All about me was dead and dark,
all within was still and cold, only my quickened intellect remained
as in every corpse the self-conscious intellect must remain, while
the body has a mortal form, for death of body is not attended by
the immediate liberation of mind. The consciousness of the dead man
is still acute, and he who thinks the dead are mindless, will
realize his fearful error when devoid of motion he lies a corpse,
conscious of all that passes on around him, waiting the liberation
that can only come by disintegration and destruction of the flesh.
So, unconscious of pain, unconscious of any physical sense, I
existed on and on, enthralled, age after age passed and piled upon
one another, for time was to me unchangeable, no more an entity. I
now prayed for change of any kind, and envied the very devils in
hell their pleasures, for were they not gifted with the power of
motion, could they not hear, and see, and realize the pains they
suffered? I prayed for death- death absolute, death eternal. Then,
at last, the darkness seemed to lessen, and I saw the frozen earth
beneath, the monstrous crags of ice above, the raging tempest
about, for I now had learned by reflection to perceive by pure
intellect, to see by the light within. My body, solid as stone, was
fixed and preserved in a waste of ice. The world was frozen. I
perceived that the sun, and moon, and stars, nearly stilled, dim
and motionless, had paled in the cold depths of space. The universe
itself was freezing, and amid the desolation only my deserted
intellect remained. Age after age had passed, aeons of ages had
fled, nation after nation had grown and perished, and in the
uncounted epochs behind, humanity had disappeared. Unable to free
itself from the frozen body, my own intellect remained the solitary
spectator of the dead silence about. At last, beneath my vision,
the moon disappeared, the stars faded one by one, and then I
watched the sun grow dim, until at length only a milky, gauze-like
film remained to indicate her face, and then- vacancy. I had lived
the universe away. And in perfect darkness the living intellect,
conscious of all that had transpired in the ages past, clung still
enthralled to the body of the frozen mortal. I thought of my record
in the distant past, of the temptations I had undergone, and called
myself a fool, for, had I listened to the tempter, I could at least
have suffered, I could have had companionship even though it were
of the devils in hell. I lived my life over and over, tunes without
number; I thought of my tempters, of the offered cups, and
thinking, argued with myself: "No,"I said; "no, I had made the
promise, I have faith in Etidorhpa, and were it to do over again I
would not drink." Then, as this thought sped from me, the ice scene
dissolved, the enveloped frozen form of myself faded from view, the
sand shrunk into nothingness, and with my natural body, and in
normal condition, I found myself back in the earth cavern, on my
knees, beside the curious inverted fungus, of which fruit I had
eaten in obedience to my guide's directions. Before me the familiar
figure of my guide stood, with folded arms, and as my gaze fell
upon him he reached out his hand and raised me to my feet. "Where
have you been during the wretched epochs that have passed since I
last saw you?"I asked. "I have been here,"he replied, "and you have
been there." "You lie, you villainous sorcerer,"I cried; "you lie
again as you have lied to me before. I followed you to the edge of
demon land, to the caverns of the drunkards, and then you deserted
me. Since last we met I have spent a million, billion years of
agony inexpressible, and have had that agony made doubly horrible
by contrast with the thought, yes, the very sight and touch of
Heaven. I passed into a double eternity, and have experienced the
ecstacies of the blessed, and suffered the torments of the damned,
and now you dare boldly tell me that I have been here, and that you
have been there, since last I saw you stand by this cursed fungus
bowl." "Yes,"he said, taking no offense at my violence; "yes,
neither of us has left this spot; you have sipped of the drink of
an earth-damned drunkard, you have experienced part of the curses
of intemperance, the delirium of narcotics. Thousands of men on
earth, in their drunken hallucination, have gone through hotter
hells than you have seen; your dream has not exaggerated the
sufferings of those who sup of the delirium of intemperance."And
then he continued: "Let me tell you of man's conception of
eternity." CHAPTER XLII. ETERNITY WITHOUT TIME. "Man's conception
of eternity is that of infinite duration, continuance without
beginning or end, and yet everything he knows is bounded by two or
more opposites. From a beginning, as he sees a form of matter, that
substance passes to an end."Thus spoke my guide. Then he asked, and
showed by his question that he appreciated the nature of my recent
experiences: "Do you recall the instant that you left me standing
by this bowl to start, as you imagined, with me as a companion, on
the journey to the cavern of the grotesque?" "No; because I did not
leave you. I sipped of the liquid, and then you moved on with me
from this spot; we were together, until at last we were separated
on the edge of the cave of drunkards." "Listen,"said he; "I neither
left you nor went with you. You neither went from this spot nor
came back again. You neither saw nor experienced my presence nor my
absence; there was no beginning to your journey." "Go on." "You ate
of the narcotic fungus; you have been intoxicated." "I have not,"I
retorted. "I have been through your accursed caverns, and into hell
beyond. I have been consumed by eternal damnation in the journey,
have experienced a heaven of delight, and also an eternity of
misery." "Upon the contrary, the time that has passed since you
drank the liquid contents of that fungus fruit has only been that
which permitted you to fall upon your knees. You swallowed the
liquor when I handed you the shell cup; you dropped upon your
knees, and then instantly awoke. See,"he said; "in corroboration of
my assertion the shell of the fungus fruit at your feet is still
dripping with the liquid you did not drink. Time has been
annihilated. Under the influence of this potent earth-bred
narcoto-intoxicant, your dream began inside of eternity; you did
not pass into it." "You say,"I interrupted, "that I dropped upon my
knees, that I have experienced the hallucination of intoxication,
that the experiences of my vision occurred during the second of
time that was required for me to drop upon my knees." "Yes." "Then
by your own argument you demonstrate that eternity requires time,
for even a millionth part of a second is time, as much so as a
million of years." "You mistake,"he replied, "you misinterpret my
words. I said that all you experienced in your eternity of
suffering and pleasure, occurred between the point when you touched
the fungus fruit to your lips, and that when your knees struck the
stone." "That consumed time,"I answered. "Did I assert,"he
questioned, "that your experiences were scattered over that entire
period?" "No." "May not all that occurred to your mind have been
crushed into the second that accompanied the mental impression
produced by the liquor, or the second of time that followed, or any
other part of that period, or a fraction of any integral second of
that period? "I can not say,"I answered, "what part of the period
the hallucination, as you call it, occupied." "You admit that so
far as your conception of time is concerned, the occurrences to
which you refer may have existed in either an inestimable fraction
of the first, the second, or the third part of the period." "Yes,"I
replied, "yes; if you are correct in that, they were illusions."
"Let me ask you furthermore,"he said; "are you sure that the flash
that bred your hallucination was not instantaneous, and a part of
neither the first, second, nor third second ?" "Continue your
argument." "I will repeat a preceding question with a slight
modification. May not all that occurred to your mind have been
crushed into the space between the second of time that preceded the
mental impression produced by the liquor, and the second that
followed it? Need it have been a part of either second, or of time
at all? Indeed, could it have been a part of time if it were
instantaneous?" "Go on." "Suppose the entity that men call the soul
of man were in process of separation from the body. The process you
will admit would occupy time, until the point of liberation was
reached. Would not dissolution, so far as the separation of matter
and spirit is concerned at its critical point be instantaneous?" I
made no reply. "If the critical point is instantaneous, there would
be no beginning, there could be no end. Therein rests an eternity
greater than man can otherwise conceive of, for as there is neither
beginning nor end, time and space are annihilated. The line that
separates the soul that is in the body from the soul that is out of
the body is outside of all things. It is a between, neither a part
of the nether side nor of the upper side; it is outside the here
and the here-after. Let us carry this thought a little
further,"said he. "Suppose a good man were to undergo this change,
could not all that an eternity of happiness might offer be crushed
into this boundless conception, the critical point? All that a
mother craves in children dead, could reappear again in their once
loved forms; all that a good life earns, would rest in the soul's
experience in that eternity, but not as an illusion, although no
mental pleasure, no physical pain is equal to that of
hallucinations. Suppose that a vicious life were ended, could it
escape the inevitable critical point? Would not that life in its
previous journey create its own sad eternity? You have seen the
working of an eternity with an end but not a beginning to it, for
you can not sense the commencement of your vision. You have been in
the cavern of the grotesque,the realms of the beautiful, and have
walked over the boundless sands that bring misery to the soul, and
have, as a statue, seen the frozen universe dissolve. You are
thankful that it was all an illusion as you deem it now; what would
you think had only the heavenly part been spread before you?" "I
would have cursed the man who dispelled the illusion,"I answered.
"Then,"he said, "you are willing to admit that men who so live as
to gain such an eternity, be it mental illusion, hallucination or
real, make no mistake in life." "I do,"I replied; "but you confound
me when you argue in so cool a manner that eternity may be
everlasting to the soul, and yet without the conception of time."
"Did I not teach you in the beginning of this journey,"he
interjected, "that time is not as men conceive it. Men can not
grasp an idea of eternity and retain their sun bred, morning and
evening, conception of time. Therein lies their error. As the tip
of the whip-lash passes with the lash, so through life the soul of
man proceeds with the body. As there is a point just when the tip
of the whip-lash is on the edge of its return, where all motion of
the line that bounds the tip ends, so there is a motionless point
when the soul starts onward from the body of man. As the tip of the
whip-lash sends its cry through space, not while it is in motion
either way, but from the point where motion ceases, the spaceless,
timeless point that lies between the backward and the forward, so
the soul of man leaves a cry ( eternity) at the critical point. It
is the death echo, and thus each snap of the life-thread throws an
eternity, its own eternity, into eternity's seas, and each eternity
is made up of the entities thus cast from the critical point. With
the end of each soul's earth journey, a new eternity springs into
existence, occupying no space, consuming no time, and not
conflicting with any other, each being exactly what the soul-earth
record makes it, an eternity of joy ( heaven ), or an eternity of
anguish ( hell ). There can be no neutral ground." Then he
continued: "The drunkard is destined to suffer in the drunkard's
eternity, as you have suffered; the enticement of drink is
evanescent, the agony to follow is eternal. You have seen that the
subregions of earth supply an intoxicant. Taste not again of any
intoxicant; let your recent lesson be your last. Any stimulant is
an enemy to man, any narcotic is a fiend. It destroys its victim,
and corrupts the mind, entices it into pastures grotesque, and even
pleasant at first, but destined to eternal misery in the end.
Beware of the eternity that follows the snapping of the life-thread
of a drunkard. Come,"he abruptly said, "we will pursue our
journey." ( NOTE.- Morphine, belladonna, hyoscyamus and cannabis
indica are narcotics, and yet each differs in its action from the
others. Alcohol and methyl alcohol are intoxicants; ether,
chloroform and chloral are anesthetics, and yet no two are
possessed of the same qualities. Is there any good reason to doubt
that combinations of the elements as yet hidden from man can not
cause hallucinations that combine and intensify the most virulent
of narcotics, intoxicants, and anesthetics, and pall the effects of
hashish or of opium? If, in the course of experimentation, a
chemist should strike upon a compound that in traces only would
subject his mind and drive his pen to record such seemingly
extravagant ideas as are found in the hallucinations herein
pictured, would it not be his duty to bury the discovery from
others, to cover from mankind the existence of such a noxious fruit
of the chemist's or pharmaceutist s art? Introduce such an
intoxicant, and start it to ferment in humanity's blood, and before
the world were advised of its possible results, might not the ever
increasing potency gain such headway as to destroy, or debase, our
civilization, and even to exterminate mankind?- J. U. L.)

INTERLUDE. CHAPTER XLIII. THE LAST CONTEST. I, Lewellyn Drury, had
been so absorbed in the fantastic story the old man read so
fluently from the execrably written manuscript, and in the
metaphysical argument which followed his account of the vision he
had introduced so artfully as to lead me to think it was a part of
his narrative, that I scarcely noted the passage of time. Upon
seeing him suspend his reading, fold the manuscript, and place it
in his pocket, I reverted to material things, and glancing at the
clock, perceived that the hands pointed to bed-time. "Tomorrow
evening,"said he, "I will return at nine o'clock. In the interim,
if you still question any part of the story, or wish further
information on any subject connected with my journey, I will be
prepared to answer your queries. Since, however, that will be your
last opportunity, I suggest that you make notes of all subjects
that you wish to discuss." Then, in his usual self-possessed,
exquisitely polite manner, he bowed himself out. I spent the next
day reviewing the most questionable features. of his history,
recalling the several statements that had been made. Remembering
the humiliation I had experienced in my previous attempts to
confute him, I determined to select such subjects as would appear
the most difficult to explain, and to attack the old man with
vehemence. I confess, that notwithstanding my several failures, and
his successful and constant elucidation and minute details in
regard to occurrences which he related, and which anticipated many
points I had once had in mind to question, misgivings still
possessed me concerning the truthfulness of the story. If these
remarkable episodes were true, could there be such a thing as
fiction? If not all true, where did fact end and fancy begin ?
Accordingly I devoted the following day to meditating my plan of
attack, for I felt that I had been challenged to a final contest.
Late the next day, I felt confident of my own ability to dispossess
him, and in order further to test his power, when night came I
doubly locked the door to my room, first with the key and next with
the inside bolt. I had determined to force him again to induce
inert material to obey his command, as he had done at our first
interview. The reader will remember that Prof. Chickering had
deemed that occurrence an illusion, and I confess that time had
dimmed the vividness of the scene in my own mind. Hence I proposed
to verify the matter. Therefore, at the approach of nine o'clock,
the evening following, I sat with my gaze riveted on the bolt of
the door, determined not to answer his knock. He gave me no chance
to neglect a response to his rap. Exactly at the stroke of nine the
door swung noiselessly on its hinges, the wizard entered, and the
door closed again. The bolt had not moved, the knob did not turn.
The bar passed through the catch and back to its seat,- I sprung
from my chair, and excitedly and rudely rushed past my guest. I
grasped the knob, wrenched it with all my might. Vainly; the door
was locked, the bolt was fastened. Then I turned to my visitor. He
was quietly seated in his accustomed place, and apparently failed
to notice my discomposure, although he must have realized that he
had withstood my first test. This pronounced defeat, at the very
beginning of our proposed contest, produced a depressing effect;
nevertheless I made an effort at self-control, and seating myself
opposite, looked my antagonist in the face. Calm, dignified, with
the brow of a philosopher, and the countenance of a philanthropist,
a perfect type of the exquisite gentleman, and the cultured
scholar, my guest, as serene and complacent as though, instead of
an intruder, he were an invited participant of the comforts of my
fireside, or even the host himself, laid his hat upon the table,
stroked his silvery, translucent beard, and said: "Well?" I
accepted the challenge, for the word, as he emphasized it, was a
challenge, and hurled at him, in hopes to catch him unprepared, the
following abrupt sentence: "I doubt the possibility of the
existence of a great cavern such as you have described. The
superincumbent mass of earth would crush the strongest metal. No
material known to man could withstand a pressure so great as would
overlie an arch as large as that you depict; material would succumb
even if the roof were made of steel." "Do not be so positive,"he
replied. "By what authority do you make this assertion?" "By the
authority of common sense as opposed to an unreasonable hypothesis.
You should know that there is a limit to the strength of all
things, and that no substance is capable of making an arch of
thousands of miles, which, according to your assertion, must have
been the diameter of the roof of your inland sea." "Ah,"he replied,
"and so you again crush my facts with your theory. Well, let me ask
a question." "Proceed." "Did you ever observe a bubble resting on
a bubble?" "Yes." "Did you ever place a pipe-stem in a partly
filled bowl of soap water, and by blowing through it fill the bowl
with bubbles?" "Yes." "Did you ever calculate the tensile strength
of the material from which you blew the bubble?" "No; for soap
water has no appreciable strength." "And yet you know that a bubble
made of suds has not only strength, but elasticity. Suppose a
bubble of energy floating in space were to be covered to the depth
of the thickness of a sheet of tissue paper with the dust of space,
would that surprise you?"

"No." "Suppose two such globes of energy, covered with dust, were
to be telescoped or attached together, would you marvel at the fact
?" "No." He drew a picture on a piece of paper, in which one line
was inclosed by another, and remarked: "The pencil mark on this
paper is proportionately thicker than the crust of the earth over
the earth cavern I have described. Even if it were made of soap
suds, it could revolve through space and maintain its contour."
"But the earth is a globe,"I interjected. "You do not mean an exact
globe?" "No; it is flattened at the poles." He took from his pocket
two thin rubber balls, one slightly larger than the other. With his
knife he divided the larger ball, cutting it into halves. He then
placed one of the sections upon the perfect ball, and held the
arrangement between the gas light and the wall. "See; is not the
shadow flattened,as your earth is, at the poles?" "Yes; but the
earth is not a shadow." "We will not argue that point now,"he
replied, and then asked: "Suppose such a compound shell as this
were to revolve through space and continuously collect dust, most
of it of the earth's temperature, forming a fluid ( water ), would
not that dust be propelled naturally from the poles?" "Yes;
according to our theory." "Perhaps,"said he, "the contact edge of
the invisible spheres of energy which compose your earth bubbles,
for planets are bubbles, that have been covered with water and soil
during the time the energy bubble, which is the real bone of the
globe, has been revolving through space; perhaps, could you reach
the foundation of the earth dust, you would find it not a perfect
sphere, but a compound skeleton, as of two bubbles locked, or
rather telescoped together. See dig. 34.1 "Are you sure that my
guide did not lead me through the space between the bubbles?" Then
he continued: "Do not be shocked at what I am about to assert, for,
as a member of materialistic humanity, you will surely consider me
irrational when I say that matter, materials, ponderous substances,
one and all, so far as the ponderous part is concerned, have no
strength." "What! No strength ?" "None whatever." I grasped the
poker. "Is not this matter?" "Yes." "I can not break it." "No."
"Have not I strength?" "Confine your argument now to the poker; we
will consider you next. You can not break it." "I can break this
pencil, though,"and I snapped it in his face. "Yes. " I curled my
lip in disdain. "You carry this argument too far." "Why? " "I can
break the pencil, I can not break the poker; had these materials
not different strengths there could be no distinction; had I no
strength I could not have broken either." "Are you ready to
listen?"he replied. "Yes; but do not exasperate me." "I did not say
that the combination you call a poker had no strength, neither did
I assert that you could not break a pencil." "A distinction without
a difference; you play upon words." "I said that matter, the
ponderous side of material substances, has no strength." "And I say
differently." He thrust the end of the poker into the fire, and
soon drew it forth red-hot. Is it as strong as before ?"No."Heat it
to whiteness and it becomes plastic. "Yes." "Heat it still more and
it changes to a liquid." "Yes." "Has liquid iron strength?" "Very
little, if any." "Is it still matter?" "Yes." "Is it the material
of the iron, or is it the energy called heat that qualifies the
strength of the metal? It seems to me that were I in your place I
would now argue that absence of heat constitutes strength,"he
sarcastically continued. "Go on." "Cool this red-hot poker by
thrusting it into a pail of cold water, and it becomes very hard
and brittle." "Yes." "Cool it slowly, and it is comparatively soft
and plastic." "Yes." "The material is the same, is it not?" "Go
on." "What strength has charcoal?" "Scarcely any." "Crystallize it,
and the diamond results." "I did not speak of diamond." "Ah! and is
not the same amount of the same material present in each, a grain
of diamond and a grain of charcoal? What is present in a grain of
diamond that is not present in a grain of charcoal?" "Go on."
"Answer my question." "I can not." "Why does brittle, cold zinc,
when heated, become first ductile, and then, at an increased
temperature, become brittle again? In each case the same material
is present." "I do not know; but this I do know: I am an organized
being, and I have strength of body." The old man grasped the heavy
iron poker with both hands, and suddenly rising to his full height,
swung it about his head, then with a motion so menacing that I,
shrunk back into my chair and cried out in alarm, seemed about to
strike, with full force, my defenseless brow. "My God,"I shouted,
"what have I done that you should murder me?" He lowered the
weapon, and calmly asked: "Suppose that I had crushed your
skull-where then would be your vaunted strength?" I made no reply,
for as yet I had not recovered from the mental shock. "Could you
then have snapped a pencil? Could you have broken a reed? Could you
even have blown the down from a thistle bloom ?" "No." "Would not
your material body have been intact?" "Yes." "Listen,"said he.
"Matter has no strength, matter obeys spirit, and spirit dominates
all things material. Energy in some form holds particles of matter
together, and energy in other forms loosens them. 'Tis this
imponderable force that gives strength to substances, not the
ponderable side of the material. Granite crushed is still granite,
but destitute of rigidity. Creatures dead are still organic
structures, but devoid of strength or motion. The spirit that
pervades all material things gives to them form and existence. Take
from your earth its vital spirit, the energy that subjects matter,
and your so-called adamantine rocks would disintegrate, and sift as
dust into the interstices of space. Your so-called rigid globe, a
shell of space dust, would dissolve, collapse, and as the spray of
a burst bubble, its ponderous side would vanish in the depths of
force." I sat motionless. "Listen,"he repeated. "You wrong your own
common sense when you place dead matter above the spirit of matter.
Atoms come and go in their ceaseless transmigrations, worlds move,
universes circulate, not because they are material bodies, but
because as points of matter, in a flood of force, they obey the
spirit that can blot out a sun, or dissolve the earth, as easily as
it can unlink two atoms. Matter is an illusion, spirit is the
reality." I felt that he had silenced me against my will, and
although I could not gainsay his assertions, I determined to study
the subject carefully, at my leisure. "As you please,"he
interjected into my musings; "but since you are so determined, you
would better study from books that are written by authors who know
whereof they write, and who are not obliged to theorize from
speculative data concerning the intrastructural earth crust." "But
where call I find such works? I do not know of any." "Then,"said
he, "perhaps it would be better to cease doubting the word of one
who has acquired the knowledge to write such a book, and who has no
object in misleading you." "Still other questions arise,"I said.
"Well?" "I consider the account of the intra-earth fungus
intoxicant beyond the realm of fact." "In what respect?" "The
perfect loss of self that resulted immediately, in an instant,
after swallowing the juice of the fungous fruit, so that you could
not distinguish between the real guide at your side and the phantom
that sprung into existence, is incredible. An element of time is a
factor in the operation of nerve impressions." "Have you
investigated all possible anaesthetics?"he asked. "Of course not."
"Or all possible narcotics?" "No." "How long does it require for
pure prussic acid to produce its physiological action ?" "I do not
know." He ignored my reply, and continued: "Since there exists a
relative difference between the time that is required for ether and
chloroform to produce insensibility, and between the actions and
resultant effects of all known an xstlletics, intoxicants, and
narcotics, I think you are hypercritical. Some nerve excitants
known to you act slowly, others quickly; why not others still
instantaneously? If you can rest your assertion on any good basis,
I will gladly meet your questions, but I do not accept such
evidence as you now introduce, and I do not care to argue for both
parties." ( It is well that reference was made to this point. Few
readers would probably notice that Chapter XXXVI. begun a narcotic
hallucination.- J. U. L. ) Again I was becoming irritated, for I
was not satisfied with the manner in which I upheld my part of the
argument, and naturally, as is usually the case with the defeated
party, became incensed at my invincible antagonist. "Well,"I said,
"I criticise your credulity. The drunkards of the drunkards' cavern
were beyond all credence. I cannot conceive of such abnormal
creations, even in illusion. Had I met with your experiences I
would not have supposed, for an instant, that the fantastic shapes
could have been aught but a dream, or the result of hallucination,
while, without a question, you considered them real" "You are
certainly pressed for subjects about which to complain when you
resort to criticising the possibilities in creations of a mind
under the influence of a more powerful intoxicant than is known to
surface earth "he remarked. "However, I will show you that nature
fashions animals in forms more fantastic than I saw, and that even
these figures were not overdrawn " Without heeding his remark, I
interrupted his discourse, determined to have my say: "And I
furthermore question the uncouth personage you describe as your
guide. Would you have me believe that such a being has an existence
outside an abnormal thought-creation?" "Ah,"he replied, "you have
done well to ask these two questions in succession, for you permit
me to answer both at once. Listen: The Monkey, of all animals,
seems to approach closest to man in figure, the Siamang Gibon of
Asia, the Baldheaded Saki of South America, with its stub of a
tail, being nearest. From these types we have great deviations as
in the Wanderer of India, with its whiskered face, and the Black
Macaque of the Island of Celebes, with its hairy topknot, and
hairless stub of a tail, or the well-known Squirrel Monkey, with
its long supple tail, and the Thumbless Spider Monkey, of South
America. Between these types we have among monkeys, nearly every
conceivable shape of limb and figure, and in color of their faces
and bodies, all the shades of the rainbow. "Some Squirrels jump and
then sail through the air. The Sloth can barely move on the earth.
Ant-eaters have no teeth at all, while the Grizzly Bear can crush
a gun barrel with its molars. "The Duck-billed Platypus of South
Australia has the body of a mole, the tail of a raccoon, the flat
bill of a duck, and the flipper of a seal, combined with the feet
of a rat. It lays eggs as birds do, but suckles its young as do
other mammalia. The Opossum has a prehensile tail, as have some
monkeys, and in addition a living bag or pouch in which the female
carries her tiny young. The young of a kind of tree frog of the
genus Hylodes, breathe through a special organ in their tails; the
young of the Pipa, a great South American toad, burrow into the
skin of the mother, and still another from Chili, as soon as
hatched, creep down the throat of the father frog, and find below
the jaw an opening into a false membrane covering the entire
abdomen, in which they repose in safety. Three species of frogs and
toads have no tongue at all, while in all the others the tongue is
attached by its tip to the end of the mouth, and is free behind.
The ordinary Bullfrog has conspicuous great legs, while a relative,
the Cocilia ( and others as well ) have a head reminding of the
frog, but neither tail nor legs, the body being elongated as if it
were a worm. The long, slender fingers of a Bat are united by means
of a membrane that enables it to fly like a bird, while as a
contrast, the fingers of a Mole, its near cousin, are short and
stubby, and massive as compared with its frame. The former flies
through the air, the latter burrows ( almost flies ) through the
earth. The Great Ant-eater has a curved head which is drawn out
into a slender snout, no teeth, a long, slender tongue, a great
bushy tail, and claws that neither allow the creature to burrow in
the earth nor climb into trees, but which are admirably adapted to
tear an ant-hill into fragments. Its close relatives, the Apar and
Armadillo, have a round body covered with bony plates, and a short,
horny, curved tail, while another relative, the Long-tailed
Pangolin, has a great alligator-like tail which, together-with its
body, is covered with horny, overlapping scales. "The Greenland
Whale has an enormous head occupying more than one-third its
length, no teeth, and a throat scarcely larger than that of a
sucker fish. The Golden Mole has a body so nearly symmetrical that,
were it not for the snout, it would be difficult to determine the
location of the head without close inspection, and it has legs so
short that, were it not for the powerful claws, they would not be
observed at all. The Narwhal has a straight, twisted tusk, a "-
"Hold, hold,"I interrupted; "do you think that I am concerned in
these well known contrasts in animal structure?" "Did you not
question the possibility of the description I gave of my grotesque
drunkards, and of the form of my subterranean guide?"my guest
retorted. "Yes; but I spoke of men, you describe animals." "Man is
an animal, and between the various species of animals that you say
are well known, greater distinctions can be drawn than between my
guide and surface-earth man. Besides, had you allowed me to proceed
to a description of animal life beneath the surface of the earth,
I would have shown you that my guide partook of their attributes.
Of the creatures described, one only was of the intra-earth origin-
the Mole,-and like my guide, it is practically eyeless." "Go on,"I
said; "'tis useless for me to resist. And yet "- "And yet what?"
"And yet I have other subjects to discuss." "Proceed." "I do not
like the way in which you constantly criticise science, especially
in referring thereto the responsibilities of the crazed anatomist.
It seems to me that he was a monomaniac, gifted, but crazed, and
that science was unfortunate in being burdened with such an
incubus." "True, and yet science advances largely by the work of
such apparently heartless creatures. Were it not for investigators
who overstep the bounds of established methods, and thus criticise
their predecessors, science would rust and disintegrate. Besides,
why should not science be judged by the rule she applies to others
?" "What do you mean?" "Who is more free to criticise religion than
the materialistic man of science?" "But a religious man is not
cruel." "Have you not read history? Have you not shuddered at the
crimes recorded in the name of the religions of man?" * This
section ( see p. 190 ) was excised, being too painful.- J. U. L.
"Yes; but these cruelties were committed by misguided men under the
cloak of the church, or of false religions, during the dark ages.
Do not blame religion, but the men who abused the cause." "Yes,"he
added, "you are right; they were fanatics, crazed beings, men; yes,
even communities, raving mad. Crazed leaders can infuse the minds
of the people with their fallacies, and thus become leaders of
crazed nations. Not, as I have depicted in my scientific
enthusiast, one man alone in the privacy of his home torturing a
single child, but whole nations pillaging, burning, torturing, and
destroying. But this is foreign to our subject. Beware, I
reiterate, of the science of humnan biology. The man who enters the
field can not foresee the end, the man who studies the science of
life, and records his experiments, can not know the extremes to
which a fanatical follower may carry the thought-current of his
leader. I have not overdrawn the lesson. Besides, science is now
really torturing, burning, maiming, and destroying humanity. The
act of destruction has been transferred from barbarians and the
fanatic in religion to the follower of the devotees of science."
"No; I say, no." "Who created the steam engine? Who evolves
improved machinery? Who creates improved artillery, and explosives?
Scientific men."He hesitated. "Go on." "Accumulate the maimed and
destroyed each year; add together the miseries and sorrows that
result from the explosions, accidents, and catastrophes resulting
from science improvements, and the dark ages scarcely offer a
parallel. Add thereto the fearful destruction that follows a war
among nations scientific, and it will be seen that the scientific
enthusiast of the present has taken the place of the misguided
fanatic of the past. Let us be just. Place to the credit of
religion the good that religion has done, place to the credit of
science the good that science is doing, and yet do not mistake,
both leave in their wake an atmosphere saturated with misery, a
road whitened with humanity's bones. Neither the young nor the old
are spared, and so far as the sufferer is concerned it matters not
whether the person has been racked by the tortures of an
inquisition, or the sword of an infidel, is shrieking in the agony
of a scald by super-heated steam, or is mangled by an explosion of
nitroglycerin." Again he hesitated. "Go on." "One of science's most
serious responsibilities, from which religion has nearly escaped,
is that of supplying thought-food to fanatics, and from this
science can not escape." "Explain yourself." "Who places the
infidel in possession of arguments to combat sacred teachings? Who
deliberately tortures animals, and suggests that biological
experimentation in the name of science, before cultured audiences
even, is legitimate, such as making public dissections of living
creatures?" "Enough, enough,"I cried, thinking of his crazed
anatomist, and covering my face with my hands; "you make my blood
creep." "Yes,"he added sarcastically; "you shudder now and
criticise my truthful study, and to-morrow you will forget the
lesson, and perhaps for dinner you will relish your dish of veal,
the favorite food of mothers, the nearest approach to the flesh of
babies." Then his manner changed, and in his usual mild, pleasant
way, he said: "Take what I have said kindly; I wish only to induce
your religious part to have more charity for your scientific self,
and the reverse. Both religion and science are working towards the
good of man, although their devotees are human, and by human errors
bring privations, sufferings, and sorrows to men. Neither can fill
the place of the other; each should extend a helping hand, and have
charity for the shortcomings of the other; they are not
antagonists, but workers in one field; both must stand the
criticisms of mutual antagonists, and both have cause to fear the
evils of fanaticism within their own ranks more than the attacks of
opponents from without. Let the religious enthusiast exercise care;
his burning, earnest words may lead a weakminded father to murder
an innocent family, and yet 'tis not religion that commits the
crime. Let the zealous scientific man hesitate; he piles up fuel by
which minds unbalanced, or dispositions perverted, seek to burn and
destroy hopes that have long served the yearnings of humanity's
soul. Neither pure religion nor true science is to blame for the
acts of its devotees, and yet each must share the responsibility of
its human agents." "We will discuss the subject no further,"I said;
"it is not agreeable." Then I continued: "The idea of eternity
without time is not quite clear to me, although I catch an
imperfect conception of the argument advanced. Do you mean to say
that when a soul leaves the body, the earth life of the individual,
dominated by the soul, is thrown off from it as is the snap of a
whip-lash, and that into the point between life and death, the
hereafter of that mortal may be concentrated?" "I simply give you
the words of my guide,"he replied, "but you have expressed the idea
about as well as your word language will admit. Such a conception
of eternity is more rational to one who, like myself, has lived
through an instant that covered, so far as mind is concerned, a
trillion years of time, than is ail attempt to grasp a conception
of an eternity, without beginning or end, by basing an argument on
conditions governing material substances, as these substances are
known to man. You have the germ of the idea which may be simply a
thought for you to ponder over; you can study the problem at your
leisure. Do not, however, I warn you, attempt to comprehend the
notion of eternity by throwing into it the conception of time as
men accept that term, for the very word time, as men define it,
demands that there be both a beginning and an end. With the sense
of time in one's mind, there can be no conception of the term
eternity." Then, as I had so often done before, I unwarily gave him
an opportunity to enlarge on his theme, to my disadvantage. I had
determined not to ask any questions concerning his replies to my
criticism, for whenever I had previously done so, the result had
been disastrous to me. In this case I unwittingly said: "Why do you
say that our language will not permit of clearer conceptions than
you give?" "Because your education does not permit you to think
outside of words; you are word-bound." "You astonish me by making
such an arrogant assertion. Do you mean to assert that I can not
think without using words?" "Yes. Every thought you indulge in is
circumscribed. You presumably attempt to throw a thought-line
forward, and yet you step backward and spin it in words that have
been handed you from the past, and, struggle as you may, you can
not liberate yourself from the dead incubus. Attempt to originate
an idea, and see if you can escape your word-master?" "Go on; I am
listening." "Men scientific think in language scientific. Men
poetical think in language poetic. All educated men use words in
thinking of their subjects, words that came to them from the past,
and enslave their intellect. Thus it is that the novelist can not
snake fiction less real than is fact; that scientists can not
commence at the outside, and build a theory back to phenomena
understood. In each case the foundation of a thought is a word that
in the very beginning carries to the mind a meaning, a something
from the past. Each thought ramification is an offshoot from words
that express ideas and govern ideas, yes, create ideas, even
dominating the mind. Men speak of ideas when they intend to refer
to an image in the mind, but in reality they have no ideas outside
of the word sentences they uncon-sciously reformulate. Define the
term idea correctly, and it will be shown that an idea is a
sentence, and if a sentence is made of words already created, there
can be no new idea, for every word has a fixed meaning. Hence, when
men think, they only rearrange words that carry with themselves
networks of ideas, and thus play upon their several established
meanings. How can men so circumscribed construct a new idea or
teach a new science ?" "New words are being created." "Language is
slowly progressing, but no new word adds itself to a language; it
is linked to thought-chains that precede. In order to create a
word, as a rule, roots are used that are as established in
philology as are building materials in architecture. When a new
sound is thrust into a language, its intent must be introduced by
words already known, after which it conveys a meaning derived from
the past, and becomes a part of mind sentences already constructed,
as it does of spoken language. Language has thus been painfully and
slowly evolved and is still being enlarged, but while new
impressions may be felt by an educated person, the formulated
feeling is inseparable, from well-known surviving words." "Some men
are dumb." "Yes; and yet they frame mind-impressions into unspoken
words of their own, otherwise they would be scarcely more than
animals. Place an uneducated dumb person in a room with a
complicated instrument, and although he may comprehend its uses, he
can not do so unless he frames sense-impressions into, what is to
him, a formulated mind-word sequence." "But he can think about it."
"No; unless he has already constructed previous impressions into
word-meanings of his own, he can not think about it at all. Words,
whether spoken or unspoken, underlie all ideas. Try, if you believe
I am mistaken, try to think of any subject outside of words?" I sat
a moment, and mentally attempted the task, and shook my head.
"Then,"said the old man, "how can I use words with established
meanings to convey to your senses an entirely new idea? If I use
new sounds, strung together, they are not words to you, and convey
no meaning; if I use words familiar, they reach backward as well as
forward. Thus it is possible to instruct you, by a laborious course
of reasoning, concerning a phenomenon that is connected with
phenomena already understood by you, for your word-language can be
thrust out from the parent stalk, and can thus follow the
outreaching branches. However, in the case of, phenomena that exist
on other planes, or are separated from any known material, or
force, as is the true conception that envelops the word eternity,
there being neither connecting materials, forces, nor words to
unite the outside with the inside, the known with the unknown, how
can I tell you more than I have done? You are word-bound."
"Nevertheless, I still believe that I can think outside of words."
"Well, perhaps after you attempt to do so, and fail again and
again, you will appreciate that a truth is a truth, humiliating as
it may be to acknowledge the fact." "A Digger Indian has scarcely
a word-language,"I asserted, loth to relinquish the argument. "You
can go farther back if you desire, back to primitive man; man
without language at all, and with ideas as circumscribed as those
of the brutes, and still you have not strengthened your argument
concerning civilized man. But you are tired, I see." "Yes; tired of
endeavoring to combat your assertions. You invariably lead me into
the realms of speculation, and then throw me upon the defensive by
asking me to prove my own theories, or with apparent sincerity, you
advance an unreasonable hypothesis, and then, before I am aware of
your purpose, force me to acquiesce because I can not find facts to
confute you. You very artfully throw the burden of proof on me in
all cases, for either by physical comparisons that I can not make,
I must demonstrate the falsity of your metaphysical assertions, or
by abstract reasonings disprove statements you assert to be facts."
"You are peevish and exhausted, or you would perceive that I have
generally allowed you to make the issue, and more than once have
endeavored to dissuade you from doing so. Besides, did I not
several times in the past bring experimental proof to dispel your
incredulity ? Have I not been courteous ?" "Yes,"I petulantly
admitted; "yes." Then I determined to imitate his artful methods,
and throw him upon the defensive as often as he had done with me.
I had finally become familiar with his process of arguing a
question, for, instead of coming immediately to his subject, he
invariably led by circuitous route to the matter under discussion.
Before reaching the point he would manage to commit me to his own
side of the subject, or place me in a defenseless position. So with
covert aim I began: "I believe that friction is one method of
producing heat." "Yes." "I have been told that the North American
Indians snake fires by rubbing together two pieces of dry wood."
"True." "I have understood that the light of a shooting star
results from the heat of friction, producing combustion of its
particles." "Partly,"he answered. "That when the meteoric fragment
of space dust strikes the air, the friction resulting from its
velocity heats it to redness, fuses its surface, or even burns its
very substance into ashes." "Yes." "I have seen the spindle of a
wheel charred by friction." "Yes." "I have drawn a wire rapidly
through a handkerchief tightly grasped in my hands, and have warmed
the wire considerably in doing so." "Yes." I felt that I had him
committed to my side of the question, and I prepared to force him
to disprove the possibility of one assertion that he had made
concerning his journey. "You stated that you rode in a boat on the
underground lake." "Yes." "With-great rapidity?" "Yes." "Rapid
motion produces friction, I believe?" "Yes." "And heat?" "Yes."
"Why did not your boat become heated even to redness? You rode at
the rate of nine hundred miles an hour,"I cried exultingly. "For
two reasons,"he calmly replied; "two natural causes prevented such
a catastrophe." And again he warned me, as he had done before, by
saying: "While you should not seek for supernatural agencies to
account for any phenomena in life, for all that is is natural,
neither should you fail to study the differences that varying
conditions produce in results already known. A miracle ceases to be
a miracle when we understand the scientific cause underlying the
wonder; occultism is natural, for if there be occult phenomena they
must be governed by natural law; mystery is not mysterious if the
veil of ignorance that envelops the investigator is lifted. What
you have said is true concerning the heat that results from
friction, but- "First, the attraction of gravitation was
inconsiderable where the boat, to which you refer, rested on the
water. "Second, the changing water carried away the heat as fast as
it was produced. While it is true that a cannon ball becomes heated
in its motion through the air, its surface is cooled when it
strikes a body of water, notwithstanding that its great velocity is
altogether overcome by the water. The friction between the water
and the iron does not result in heated iron, but the contrary. The
water above the rapids of a river has practically the temperature
of the water below the rapids, regardless of the friction that
ensues between these points. Admit, however, that heat is liberated
as the result of the friction of solids with water, and still it
does not follow that this heat will perceptibly affect the solid.
With a boat each particle of water carries the heat away, each
succeeding portion of water takes up the heat liberated by that
preceding it. Thus the great body of water, over which our boat
sped, in obedience to the ordinary law, became slightly warmed, but
its effect upon the boat was scarcely perceptible. Your comparison
of the motion of a meteor, with that of our boat, was unhappy. We
moved rapidly, it is true, in comparison with the motion of vessels
such as you know, but comparison can not be easily drawn between
the velocity of a boat and that of a meteor. While we moved at the
rate of many miles a minute, a meteor moves many times faster,
perhaps as many miles in a second. Then you must remember that the
force of gravitation was so slight in our position that "-
"Enough,"I interrupted. "We will pass the subject. It seems that
you draw upon science for knowledge to support your arguments,
however irrational they may be, and then you sneer at this same
method of argument when I employ it." He replied to my peevish
complaint with the utmost respect by calling to my attention the
fact that my own forced argument had led to the answer, and that he
had simply replied to my attacks. Said he: "If I am wrong in my
philosophy, based on your science thought, I am right in my facts,
and science thought is thus in the wrong, for facts overbalance
theory. I ask you only to give me the attention that my statements
merit. I am sincere, and aim to serve your interests. Should
investigation lead you hereafter to infer that I am in error, at
our final interview you can have my considerate attention. Be more
charitable, please." Then he added: "Is there any other subject you
wish to argue?" "Yes,"I answered, and again my combativeness arose;
"yes. One of the truly edifying features of your narrative is that
of the intelligent guide,"and I emphasized the word intelligent,
and curled up my lip in a sarcastic manner. "Proceed." "He was
verily a wonderful being; an eyeless creature, and yet possessed of
sight and perception beyond that of mortal man; a creature who had
been locked in the earth, and yet was more familiar with its
surface than a philosopher; a cavern-bred monstrosity, and yet
possessed of the mind of a sage; he was a scientific expert, a
naturalist, a metaphysical reasoner, a critic of religion, and a
prophet. He could see in absolute darkness as well as in daylight;
without a compass he could guide a boat over a trackless sea, and
could accomplish feats that throw Gulliver and Munchausen into
disrepute." In perfect composure my aged guest listened to my
cynical, and almost insulting tirade. He made no effort to restrain
my impetuous sentences, and when I had finished replied in the
polished language of a scholarly gentleman. "You state truly,
construe my words properly, as well as understand correctly." Then
he continued musingly, as though speaking to himself: "I would be
at fault and deserve censure did I permit doubts to be thrown upon
so clear a subject, or discredit on so magnanimous a person."
Turning to me he continued: "Certainly I did not intend to mislead
or to be misunderstood, and am pleased to find you so earnest a
scholar." And then in his soft, mild manner, he commenced his
detail reply, pouring oil upon the waters of my troubled soul, his
sweet, melodious voice being so in contrast to my rash harangue. He
began with his expressive and often repeated word, "listen."
"Listen. You are right, my guide was a being wonderful to mortals.
He was eyeless, but as I have shown you before, and now swear to
the fact, was not sightless; surely,"he said, "surely you have not
forgotten that long ago I considered the phenomenal instinct at
length. He predicted the future by means of his knowledge of the
past- there is nothing wonderful in that. Can not a civil engineer
continue a line into the beyond, and predict where the projection
of that line will strike; can he not also calculate the effect that
a curve will have on his line's destiny? Why should a being
conversant with the lines and curves of humanity's journey for ages
past not be able to indicate the lines that men must follow in the
future? Of course he could guide the boat, in what was to the a
trackless waste of water, but you err in asserting that I had said
he did not have a guide, even if it were not a compass. Many
details concerning this journey have not been explained to you;
indeed, I have acquainted you with but little that I experienced.
Near surface earth we passed through caverns filled with creeping
reptiles; through others we were surrounded by flying creatures,
neither beast nor bird; we passed through passages of ooze and
labyrinths of apparently interminable intra-earth structures; to
have disported on such features of my journey would have been
impracticable. From time to time I experienced strains of melody,
such as never before had I conceived, seemingly choruses of angels
were singing in and to my very soul. From empty space about me,
from out the crevices beyond and behind me, from the depths of my
spirit within me, came these strains in notes clear and distinct,
but yet indescribable. Did I fancy, or was it real? I will not
pretend to say. Flowers and structures beautiful, insects gorgeous
and inexplicable were spread before me. Figures and forms I can not
attempt to indicate in word descriptions, ever and anon surrounded,
accompanied, and passed me by. The canvas conceptions of earth-bred
artists bring to mind no forms so strange and weird and yet so
beautiful as were these compound beings. Restful beyond description
was it to drink in the indescribable strains of poetry of motion
that I appreciated in the movements of fair creatures I have not
mentioned, and it was no less soothing to experience the soul
relief wrought by the sounds about me, for musicians know no notes
so sweet and entrancing.

"There were also, in side caverns to which I was led, combinations
of sounds and scenes in which floating strains and fleeting figures
were interwoven and interlaced so closely that the senses of both
sight and hearing became blended into a single sense, new, weird,
strange, and inexpressible. As flavor is the combination of odor
and taste, and is neither taste nor odor, so these sounds and
scenes combined were neither scenes' nor sounds, but a complex
sensation, new, delicious. Sometimes I begged to be permitted to
stop and live forever 'mid those heavenly charms, but with as firm
a hand as when helping me through the chambers of mire, ooze, and
creeping reptiles, my guide drew me onward.

"But to return to the subject. As to my guide being a cavern-bred
monstrosity, I do not remember to have said that he was
cavern-bred, and if I have forgotten a fact, I regret my short
memory. Did I say that he was always a cavern being. Did I assert
that he had never lived among mortals of upper earth? If so, I do
not remember our conversation on that subject. He was surely a sage
in knowledge, as you have experienced from my feeble efforts in
explaining the nature of phenomena that were to you unknown, and
yet have been gained by me largely through his instruction. He was
a metaphysician, as you assert; you are surely right; he was a
sincere, earnest reasoner and teacher. He was a conscientious
student, and did not by any word lead me to feel that he did not
respect all religions, and bow to the Creator of the universe, its
sciences, and its religions. His demeanor was most considerate, his
methods faultless, his love of nature deep, his patience
inexhaustible, his sincerity unimpeachable. "Yes,"the old man said;
"you are right in your admiration of this lovely personage, and
when you come to meet this being as you are destined yet to do- for
know now that you too will some day pass from surface earth, and
leave only your name in connection with this story of myself- you
will surely then form a still greater love and a deeper respect for
one so gifted, and yet so self-sacrificing." "Old man,"I cried,
"you mock me. I spoke facetiously, and you answer literally. Know
that I have no confidence in your sailor-like tales, your Marco
Polo history." "Ah ! You discredit Marco Polo? And why do you
doubt?" "Because I have never seen such phenomena, I have never
witnessed such occurrences. I must see a thing to believe it." "And
so you believe only what you see?"he queried. "Yes." "Now answer
promptly,"he commanded, and his manner changed as by magic to that
of a master. "Did you ever see Greenland?" "No." "Iceland?" "No."
"A geyser?" "No." "A whale?" "No." "England?" "No." "France?" "No."
"A walrus?" "No." "Then you do not believe that these conditions,
countries, and animals have an existence?" "Of course they have."
"Why? " "Others have seen them." "Ah,"he said; "then you wish to
modify your assertion you only believe what others have seen?"
"Excepting one person,"I retorted. Then he continued, seemingly not
having noticed my personal allusion. "Have you ever seen your
heart?"I hesitated. "Answer,"he commanded. "No." "Your stomach ?"
"No." "Have you seen the stomach of any of your friends?" "No."
"The back of your head?" I became irritated, and made no reply.
"Answer,"he again commanded. "I have seen its reflection in a
glass." "I say no,"he replied ; "you have not." "You are
impudent,"I exclaimed. "Not at all,"he said, good humoredly; "how
easy it is to make a mistake. I venture to say that you have never
seen the reflection of the back of your head in a mirror." "Your
presumption astounds me." "I will leave it to yourself." He took a
hand-glass from the table and held it behind my head. "Now, do you
see the reflection?" "No; the glass is behind me." "Ah, yes; and so
is the back of your head." "Look,"I said, pointing to the great
mirror on the bureau; "look, there is the reflection of the back of
my head." "No; it is the reflection of the reflection in my hand
glass." "You have tricked me; you quibble!" "Well,"he said,
ignoring my remark; "what do you believe?" "I believe what others
have seen, and what I can do." "Excluding thyself as to what others
have seen,"he said facetiously. "Perhaps,"I answered, relenting
somewhat. "Has any man of your acquaintance seen the middle of
Africa?" "No." "The center of the earth ?" "No." "The opposite side
of the moon?" "No." "The soul of man ?" "No." "Heat, light,
electricity?" "No." "Then you do not believe that Africa has a
midland, the earth a center, the moon an opposite side, man a soul,
force an existence?" "You distort my meaning." "Well, I ask
questions in accord with your suggestions, and you defeat yourself.
You have now only one point left. You believe only what you can
do?" "Yes." "I will rest this case on one statement, then, and you
may be the judge." "Agreed." "You can not do what any child in
Cincinnati can accomplish. I assert that any other man, any other
woman in the city can do more than you can. No cripple is so
helpless, no invalid so feeble as not, in this respect, to be your
superior." "You insult me,"I again retorted, almost viciously. "Do
you dispute the assertion seriously?" "Yes." "Well, let me see you
kiss your elbow." Involuntarily I twisted my arm so as to bring the
elbow towards my mouth, then, as I caught the full force of his
meaning, the ridiculous result of my passionate wager came over me,
and I laughed aloud. It was a change of thought from the sublime to
the ludicrous. The white-haired guest smiled in return, and kindly
said: "It pleases me to find you in good humor at last. I will
return to-morrow evening and resume the reading of my manuscript.
In the meantime take good exercise, eat heartily, and become more
cheerful." He rose and bowed himself out. THE OLD MAN CONTINUES HIS
MANUSCRIPT. CHAPTER XLIV. THE FATHOMLESS ABYSS.- THE EDGE OF THE
EARTH SHELL. Promptly at eight o'clock the next evening the old man
entered my room. He did not allude to the occurrences of the
previous evening, and for this considerate treatment I felt
thankful, as my part in those episodes had not been enviable. He
placed his hat on the table, and in his usual cool and deliberate
manner, commenced reading as follows: For a long time thereafter we
journeyed on in silence, now amid stately stone pillars, then
through great cliff openings or among gigantic formations that
often stretched away like cities or towns dotted over a plain, to
vanish in the distance. Then they scene changed, and we traversed
magnificent avenues, bounded by solid walls which expanded into
lofty caverns of illimitable extent, from whence we found ourselves
creeping through narrow crevices and threading winding passages
barely sufficient to admit our bodies. For a considerable period I
had noted the absence of water, and as we passed from grotto to
temple reared without hands, it occurred to me that I could not now
observe evidence of water erosion in the stony surface over which
we trod, and which had been so abundant before we reached the lake.
My guide explained by saying in reply to my thought question, that
we were beneath the water line. He said that liquids were impelled
back towards the earth's surface from a point unnoticed by me, but
long since passed. Neither did I now experience hunger nor thirst,
in the slightest degree, a circumstance which my guide assured me
was perfectly natural in view of the fact that there was neither
waste of tissue nor consumption of heat in my present organism. At
last I observed far in the distance a slanting sheet of light that,
fan-shaped, stood as a barrier across the way; beyond it neither
earth nor earth's surface appeared. As we approached, the
distinctness of its outline disappeared, and when we came nearer,
I found that it streamed into the space above, from what appeared
to be a crevice or break in the earth that stretched across our
pathway, and was apparently limitless and bottomless. "Is this
another hallucination?"I queried. "No; it is a reality. Let us
advance to the brink." Slowly we pursued our way, for I hesitated
and held back. I had really begun to distrust my own senses, and my
guide in the lead was even forced to demonstrate the feasibility of
the way, step by step, before I could be induced to follow. At
length we neared the edge of the chasm, and while he stood boldly
upright by the brink, with fear and trembling I crept on my knees
to his side, and together we faced a magnificent but fearful void
that stretched beneath and beyond us, into a profundity of space.
I peered into the chamber of light, that indescribable gulf of
brilliancy, but vainly sought for an opposite wall; there was none.
As far as the eye could reach, vacancy, illuminated vacancy,
greeted my vision. The light that sprung from that void was not
dazzling, but was possessed of a beauty that no words can suggest.
I peered downward, and found that we stood upon the edge of a
shelving ledge of stone that receded rapidly beneath us, so that we
seemed to rest upon the upper side of its wedge-like edge. I
strained my vision to catch a glimpse of the bottom of this chasm,
but although I realized that my eyes were glancing into miles and
miles of space, there was no evidence of earthly material other
than the brink upon which we stood. The limit of vision seemed to
be bounded by a silvery blending of light with light, light alone,
only light. The dead silence about, and the new light before me,
combined to produce a weird sensation, inexplicable, overpowering.
A speck of dust on the edge of immensity, I clung to the stone
cliff, gazing into the depths of that immeasurable void.

CHAPTER XLV. MY HART THROB IS STILLED, AND YET I LIVE. "It now
becomes my duty to inform you that this is one of the stages in our
journey that can only be passed by the exercise of the greatest
will force. Owing to our former surroundings upon the surface of
the earth, and to your inheritance of a so-called instinctive
education, you would naturally suppose that we are now on the brink
of an impassable chasm. This sphere of material vacuity extends
beneath us to a depth that I am sure you will be astonished to
learn is over six thousand miles. We may now look straight into the
earth cavity, and this streaming light is the reflected purity of
the space below. The opposite side of this crevice, out of sight by
reason of its distance, but horizontally across from where we
stand, is precipitous and comparatively solid, extending upward to
the material that forms the earth's surface. We have, during our
journey, traversed an oblique, tortuous natural passage, that
extends from the spot at which you entered the cave in Kentucky,
diagonally down into the crust of the globe, terminating in this
shelving bluff. I would recall to your mind that your journey up to
this time has been of your own free will and accord. At each period
of vacillation- and you could not help but waver occasionally- you
have been at liberty to return to surface earth again, but each
time you decided wisely to continue your course. You can now return
if your courage is not sufficient to overcome your fear, but this
is the last opportunity you will have to reconsider, while in my
company." "Have others overcome the instinctive terrors to which
you allude ?" "Yes; but usually the dread of death, or an
unbearable uncertainty, compels the traveler to give up in despair
before reaching this spot, and the opportunity of a lifetime is
lost. Yes; an opportunity that occurs only in the lifetime of one
person out of millions, of but few in our brotherhood." "Then I can
return if I so elect?" "Certainly." "Will you inform me concerning
the nature of the obstacle I have to overcome, that you indicate by
your vague references?" "We must descend from this cliff." "You can
not be in earnest." "Why?" "Do you not see that the stone recedes
from beneath us, that we stand on the edge of a wedge overhanging
bottomless space?" "That I understand." "There is no ladder,"and
then the foolish remark abashed me as I thought of a ladder six
thousand miles in length. "Go on." He made no reference to my
confusion. "There is practically no bottom,"I asserted, "if I can
believe your words; you told me so." "And that I reiterate." "The
feat is impracticable, impossible, and only a madman would think of
trying to descend into such a depth of space." Then an idea came
over me; perhaps there existed a route at some other point of the
earth's crevice by which we could reach the under side of the stone
shelf, and I intimated as much to the guide. "No; we must descend
from this point, for it is the only entrance to the hollow
beneath." We withdrew from the brink, and I meditated in silence.
Then I crept again to the edge of the bluff, and lying flat on my
chest, craned my head over, and peered down into the luminous gulf.
The texture of the receding mineral was distinctly visible for a
considerable distance, and then far, far beneath all semblance to
material form disappeared- as the hull of a vessel fades in deep,
clear water. As I gazed into the gulf it seemed evident that, as a
board floating in water is bounded by water, this rock really
ended. I turned to my guide and questioned him. "Stone in this
situation is as cork,"he replied; "it is nearly devoid of weight;
your surmise is correct. We stand on the shelving edge of a cliff
of earthly matter, that in this spot slants upward from beneath
like the bow of a boat. We have reached the bottom of the film of
space dust on the bubble of energy that forms the skeleton of
earth." I clutched the edge of the cliff with both hands. "Be not
frightened; have I not told you that if you wish to return you can
do so. Now hearken to me: "A short time ago you endeavored to
convince me that we could not descend from this precipice, and you
are aware that your arguments were without foundation. You drew
upon your knowledge of earth materials, as you once learned them,
and realized at the time that you deluded yourself in doing so, for
you know that present conditions are not such as exist above
ground. You are now influenced by surroundings that are entirely
different from those that govern the lives of men upon the earth's
surface. You are almost without weight. You have nearly ceased to
breathe, as long since you discovered, and soon I hope will agree
entirely to suspend that harsh and wearying movement. Your heart
scarcely pulsates, and if you go with me farther in this journey,
will soon cease to beat." I started up and turned to flee, but he
grasped and held me firmly. "Would you murder me? Do you think I
will mutely acquiesce, while you coolly inform me of your inhuman
intent, and gloat over the fact that my heart will soon be as
stone, and that I will be a corpse?"He attempted to break in, but
I proceeded in frenzy. "I will return to upper earth, to sunshine
and humanity. I will retreat while yet in health and strength, and
although I have in apparent willingness accompanied you to this
point, learn now that at all times I have been possessed of the
means to defend myself from personal violence."I drew from my
pocket the bar of iron. "See, this I secreted about my person in
the fresh air of upper earth, the sweet sunshine of heaven, fearing
that I might fall into the hands of men with whom I must combat.
Back, back,"I cried. He released his hold of my person, and folded
his arms upon his breast, then quietly faced me, standing directly
between myself and the passage we had trod, while I stood on the
brink, my back to that fearful chasm. By a single push he could
thrust me into the fathomless gulf below, and with the realization
of that fact, I felt that it was now a life and death struggle.
With every muscle strained to its utmost tension, with my soul on
fire, my brain frenzied, I drew back the bar of iron to smite the
apparently defenseless being in the forehead, but he moved not, and
as I made the motion, he calmly remarked: "Do you remember the
history of Hiram Abiff?"

The hand that held the weapon dropped as if stricken by paralysis,
and a flood of recollections concerning my lost home overcame me.
I had raised my hand against a brother, the only being of my kind
who could aid me, or assist me either to advance or recede. How
could I, unaided, recross that glassy lake, and pass through the
grotesque forests of fungi and the labyrinth of crystal grottoes of
the salt bed? How could I find my way in the utter darkness that
existed in the damp, soppy, dripping upper caverns that I must
retrace before I could hope to reach the surface of the earth?
"Forgive me,"I sobbed, and sunk at his feet. "Forgive me, my
friend, my brother; I have been wild, mad, am crazed."He made no
reply, but pointed over my shoulder into the space beyond. I
turned, and in the direction indicated, saw, in amazement, floating
in the distant space a snow and ice-clad vessel in full sail. She
was headed diagonally from us, and was moving rapidly across the
field of vision Every spar and sail was clearly defined, and on her
deck, and in the rigging I beheld sailors clad in winter garments
pursuing their various duties. As I gazed, enraptured, she
disappeared in the distance. "A phantom vessel,"I murmured. "No,"he
replied; "the abstraction of a vessel sailing on the ocean above
us. Every object on earth is the second to an imprint in another
place. There is an apparent reproduction of matter in so-called
vacancy, and on unseen pages a recording of all events. As that
ship sailed over the ocean above us, she disturbed a current of
energy, and it left its impress as an outline on a certain zone
beneath, which is parallel with that upon which we now chance to
stand." "I can not comprehend,"I muttered. "No,"he answered; "to
you it seems miraculous, as to all men an unexplained phenomenon
approaches the supernatural. All that is is natural. Have men not
been told in sacred writings that their every movement is being
recorded in the Book of Life, and do they not often doubt because
they can not grasp the problem? May not the greatest scientist be
the most apt skeptic?" "Yes,"I replied. "You have just seen,"he
said, "the record of an act on earth, and in detail it is being
printed elsewhere in the Book of Eternity. If you should return to
earth's surface you could not by stating these facts convince even
the persons on that same ship, of your sanity. You could not make
them believe that hundreds of miles beneath, both their vessel and
its crew had been reproduced in fac simile, could you?" "No." "Were
you to return to earth you could not convince men that you had
existed without breath, with a heart dead within you. If you should
try to impress on mankind the facts that you have learned in this
journey, what would be the result?" "I would probably be considered
mentally deranged; this I have before admitted." "Would it not be
better then,"he continued, "to go with me, by your own free will,
into the unknown future, which you need fear less than a return to
the scoffing multitude amid the storms of upper earth? You know
that I have not at any time deceived you. I have, as yet, only
opened before you a part of one rare page out of the bound-less
book of nature; you have tasted of the sweets of which few persons
in the flesh have sipped, and I now promise you a further store of
knowledge that is rich beyond conception, if you wish to continue
your journey." "What if I decide to return ?" "I will retrace my
footsteps and liberate you upon the surface of the earth, as I have
others, for few persons have courage enough to pass this spot."
"Binding me to an oath of secrecy?" "No,"he answered; "for if you
relate these events men will consider you a madman, and the more
clearly you attempt to explain the facts that you have witnessed,
the less they will listen to you; such has been the fate of
others." "It is, indeed, better for me to go with you,"I said
musingly ; to that effect my mind is now made up, my course is
clear, I am ready." With a motion so quick in conception, and rapid
in execution that I was taken altogether by surprise, with a grasp
so powerful that I could not have repelled him, had I expected the
movement and tried to protect myself, the strange man, or being
beside me, threw his arms around my body. Then, as a part of the
same movement, he raised me bodily from the stone, and before I
could realize the nature of his intention, sprung from the edge of
the cliff into the abyss below, carrying me with him into its
depths.

CHAPTER XLVI. THE INNER CIRCLE, OR THE END OF GRAVITATION.- IN THE
BOTTOMLESS GULF. I recall a whirling sensation, and an involuntary
attempt at self-preservation, in which I threw my arms wildly about
with a vain endeavor to clutch some form of solid body, which
movement naturally ended by a tight clasping of my guide in my
arms, and locked together we continued to speed down into the seven
thousand miles of vacancy. Instinctively I murmured a prayer of
supplication, and awaited the approaching hereafter, which, as I
believed, would quickly witness the extinction of my unhappy life,
the end of my material existence; but the moments ( if time can be
so divided when no sun marks the division ) multiplied without
bodily shock or physical pain of any description; I retained my
consciousness. "Open your eyes,"said my guide, "you have no cause
for fear."I acquiesced in an incredulous, dazed manner. "This
unusual experience is sufficient to unnerve you, but you need have
no fear, for you are not in corporal danger, and can relax your
grasp on my person." I cautiously obeyed him, misgivingly, and
slowly loosened my hold, then gazed about to find that we were in
a sea of light, and that only light was visible, that form of light
which I have before said is an entity without source of radiation.
In one direction, however, a great gray cloud hung suspended and
gloomy, dark in the center, and shading therefrom in a circle, to
disappear entirely at an angle of about forty-five degrees. "This
is the earth-shelf from which we sprung,"said the guide; "it will
soon disappear." Wherever I glanced this radiant exhalation, a
peaceful, luminous envelope, this rich, soft, beautiful white light
appeared. The power of bodily motion I found still a factor in my
frame, obedient, as before, to my will. I could move my limbs
freely, and my intellect seemed to be intact. Finally I became
impressed with the idea that I must be at perfect rest, but if so
what could be the nature of the substance, or material, upon which
I was resting so complacently? No; this could not be true. Then I
thought: "I have been instantly killed by a painless shock, and my
spirit is in heaven;"but my earthly body and coarse, ragged
garments were palpable realities; the sense of touch, sight, and
hearing surely were normal, and a consideration of these facts
dispelled my first conception. "Where are we now?" "Moving into
earth's central space." "I comprehend that a rushing wind surrounds
us which is not uncomfortable, but otherwise I experience no
unusual sensation, and can not realize but that I am at rest." "The
sensation, as of a blowing wind is in consequence of our rapid
motion, and results from the friction between our bodies and the
quiescent, attenuated atmosphere which exists even here, but this
atmosphere becomes less and less in amount until it will disappear
altogether at a short distance below us. Soon we will be in a
perfect calm, and although moving rapidly, to all appearances will
be at absolute rest." Naturally, perhaps, my mind attempted, as it
so often had done, to urge objections to his statements, and at
first it occurred to me that I did not experience the peculiar
sinking away sensation in the chest that I remembered follows, on
earth, the downward motion of a person falling from a great height,
or moving rapidly in a swing, and I questioned him on the absence
of that phenomenon. "The explanation is simple,"he said; "on the
surface of the earth a sudden motion, either upward or downward,
disturbs the equilibrium of the organs of respiration, and of the
heart, and interferes with the circulation of the blood. This
produces a change in blood pressure within the brain, and the ;'
sinking ' sensation in the chest, or the dizziness of the head of
a person moving rapidly, or it may even result in unconsciousness,
and complete suspension of respiration, effects which sometimes
follow rapid movements, as in a person falling from a considerable
height. Here circumstances are entirely different. The heart is
quiet, the lungs in a comatose condition, and the blood stagnant.
Mental sensations, therefore, that result from a disturbed
condition of these organs are wanting, and, although we are
experiencing rapid motion, we are in the full possession of our
physical selves, and maintain our mental faculties unimpaired."
Again I interposed an objection: "If, as you say, we are really
passing through an attenuated atmosphere with increasing velocity,
according to the law that governs falling bodies that are acted
upon by gravity which continually accelerates their motion, the
friction between ourselves and the air will ultimately become so
intense as to wear away our bodies." "Upon the contrary,"said he,
"this attenuated atmosphere is decreasing in density more rapidly
than our velocity increases, and before long it will have
altogether disappeared. You can perceive that the wind, as you call
it, is blowing less violently than formerly; soon it will entirely
cease, as I have already predicted, and at that period, regardless
of our motion, we will appear to be stationary." Pondering over the
final result of this strange experience I became again alarmed, for
accepting the facts to be as he stated, such motion would
ultimately carry us against the opposite crust of the earth, and
without a doubt the shock would end our existence. I inquired about
this, to me, self-evident fact, and he replied: "Long before we
reach the opposite crust of the earth, our motion will be
arrested." I had begun now to feel a self-confidence that is
surprising as I recall that remarkable position in connection with
my narrow experience in true science, and can say that instead of
despondency, I really enjoyed an elated sensation, a curious
exhilaration, a feeling of delight, which I have no words to
describe. Life disturbances and mental worry seemed to have
completely vanished, and it appeared as if, with mental perception
lucid, I were under the influence of a powerful soporific; the
cares of mortals had disappeared. After a while the wind ceased to
blow, as my guide had predicted, and with the suspension of that
factor, all that remained to remind me of earth phenomena had
vanished. There was no motion of material, nothing to roar or
disturb the most perfect peace imaginable; I was so exquisitely
happy that I now actually feared some change might occur to
interrupt that quiescent existence. It was as a deep, sweet sleep
in which, with faculties alive, unconsciousness was self-conscious,
peaceful, restful, blissful. I listlessly turned my eyes, searching
space in all directions- to meet vacancy everywhere, absolute
vacancy. I took from my pocket ( into which I had hastily thrust it
) the bar of iron, and released it; the metal remained motionless
beside me. "Traveling through this expanse with the rapidity of
ourselves,"said my guide. I closed my eyes and endeavored to
convince myself that I was dreaming- vainly, however. I opened my
eyes, and endeavored to convince myself that I was moving, equally
in vain. I became oblivious to everything save the delicious
sensation of absolute rest that enveloped and pervaded my being. "I
am neither alive nor dead,"I murmured; "neither asleep nor awake;
neither moving nor at rest, and neither standing, reclining, nor
sitting. If I exist I can not bring evidence to prove that fact,
neither can I prove that I am dead." "Can any man prove either of
these premises?"said the guide. "I have never questioned the
matter,"said I; "it is a self-evident fact." "Know then,"said he,
"that existence is a theory, and that man is incapable of
demonstrating that he has a being. All evidences of mortal life are
only as the phantasms of hallucination. As a moment in dreamland
may span a life of time, the dreamer altogether unconscious that it
is a dream, so may life itself be a shadow, the vision of a
distempered fancy, the illusion of a floating thought." "Are pain,
pleasure, and living, imaginary creations?"I asked facetiously. "Is
there a madman who does not imagine, as facts, what others agree
upon as hallucinations peculiar to himself? Is it not impossible to
distinguish between different gradations of illusions, and is it
not, therefore, possible that even self-existence is an illusion?
What evidence can any man produce to prove that his idea of life is
not a madman's dream?" "Proceed,"I said. "At another time,
perhaps,"he remarked; "we have reached the Inner Circle, the Sphere
of Rest, the line of gravity, and now our bodies have no weight; at
this point we begin to move with decreased speed, we will soon come
to a quiescent condition, a state of rest, and then start back on
our rebound."

CHAPTER XLVII. HEARING WITHOUT EARS.- "WHAT WILL BE THE END?" A
flood of recollections came over me, a vivid remembrance of my
earth-learned school philosophy. "I rebel again,"I said, "I deny
your statements. We can neither be moving, nor can we be out of the
atmosphere. Fool that I have been not to have sooner and better
used my reasoning faculties, not to have at once rejected your
statements concerning the disappearance of the atmosphere." "I
await your argument." "Am I not speaking? Is other argument
necessary? Have I not heard your voice, and that, too, since you
asserted that we had left the atmosphere?" "Continue." "Have not
men demonstrated, and is it not accepted beyond the shadow of a
doubt, that sound is produced by vibrations of the air?" "You speak
truly; as men converse on surface earth." "This medium- the air- in
wave vibrations, strikes upon the drum of the ear, and thus
impresses the brain,"I continued. "I agree that such is the
teachings of your philosophy; go on." "It is unnecessary; you admit
the facts, and the facts refute you; there must be an atmosphere to
convey sound." "Can not you understand that you are not now on the
surface of the earth? Will you never learn that the philosophy of
your former life is not philosophy here? That earth-bound science
is science only with surface-earth men? Here science is a fallacy.
All that you have said is true of surface earth, but your argument
is invalid where every condition is different from the conditions
that prevail thereon. You use the organs of speech in addressing me
as you once learned to use them, but such physical efforts are
unnecessary to convey sense-impressions in this condition of rest
and complacency, and you waste energy in employing them. You assert
and believe that the air conveys sound; you have been taught such
theories in support of a restricted philosophy; but may I ask you
if a bar of iron, a stick of wood, a stream of water, indeed any
substance known to you placed against the ear will not do the same,
and many substances even better than the atmosphere?" "This I
admit." "Will you tell me how the vibration of any of these bodies
impresses the seat of hearing?" "It moves the atmosphere which
strikes upon the tympanum of the ear." "You have not explained the
phenomenon; how does that tympanic membrane communicate with the
brain?" "By vibrations, I understand,"I answered, and then I began
to feel that this assertion was a simple statement, and not
sufficient to explain how matter acts upon mind, whatever mind may
be, and I hesitated. "Pray do not stop,"he said ; "how is it that
a delicate vibrating film of animal membrane can receive and convey
sound to a pulpy organic mass that is destitute of elasticity, and
which consists mostly of water, for the brain is such in structure,
and vibrations like those you mention, can not, by your own theory,
pass through it as vibrations through a sonorous material, or even
reach from the tympanum of the ear to the nearest convolution of
the brain." "I can not explain this, I admit,"was my reply. "Pass
that feature, then, and concede that this tympanic membrane is
capable of materially affecting brain tissue by its tiny
vibrations, how can that slimy, pulpy formation mostly made up of
water, communicate with the soul of man, for you do not claim, I
hope, that brain material is either mind, conscience, or soul?" I
confessed my inability to answer or even to theorize on the
subject, and recognizing my humiliation, I begged him to open the
door to such knowledge. "The vibration of the atmosphere is
necessary to man, as earthy man is situated,"he said. "The coarser
attributes known as matter formations are the crudities of nature,
dust swept from space. Man's organism is made up of the roughest
and lowest kind of space materials; he is surrounded by a turbulent
medium, the air, and these various conditions obscure or destroy
the finer attributes of his ethereal nature, and prevent a higher
spiritual evolution. His spiritual self is enveloped in earth, and
everywhere thwarted by earthy materials. He is insensible to the
finer influences of surrounding media by reason of the overwhelming
necessity of a war for existence with the grossly antagonistic
materialistic confusion that everywhere confronts, surrounds, and
pervades him. Such a conflict with extraneous matter is necessary
in order that he may retain his earthy being, for, to remain a
mortal, he must work to keep body and soul together. His organs of
communication and perception are of earth, earthy; his nature is
cast in a mold of clay, and the blood within him gurgles and
struggles in his brain, a whirlpool of madly rushing liquid
substances, creating disorder in the primal realms of
consciousness. He is ignorant of this. inward turmoil because he
has never been without it, as ignorant as he is of the rank odors
of the gases of the atmosphere that he has always breathed, and can
not perceive because of the benumbed olfactory nerves. Thus it is
that all his subtler senses are inevitably blunted and perverted,
and his vulgar nature preponderates. The rich essential part of his
own self is unknown, even to himself. The possibility of delight
and pleasure in an acquaintance with the finer attributes of his
own soul is clouded by this shrouding materialistic presence that.
has, through countless generations, become a part of man, and he
even derives most of his mental pleasures from such acts as tend to
encourage the animal passions. Thus it follows that the sensitive,
highly developed, extremely attenuated part of his inner being has
become subservient to the grosser elements. The baser part of his
nature has become dominant. He remains insensible to impressions
from the highly developed surrounding media which, being incapable
of reaching his inner organism other than through mechanical
agencies, are powerless to impress. Alas, only the coarser
conditions of celestial phenomena can affect him, and the finer
expressions of the universe of life and force are lost to his
spiritual apprehension." Would you have me view the soul of man as
I would a material being?" "Surely,"he answered; "it exists
practically as does the more gross forms of matter, and in exact
accord with natural laws. Associated with lower forms of matter,
the soul of man is a temporary slave to the enveloping substance.
The ear of man as now constituted can hear only by means of
vibrations of such media as conduct vibrations in matter- for
example, the air; but were man to be deprived of the organs of
hearing, and then exist for generations subject to evolutions from
within, whereby the acuteness of the spirit would become
intensified, or permitted to perform its true function, he would
learn to communicate soul to soul, not only with mankind, but with
beings celestial that surround, and are now unknown to him. This he
would accomplish through a medium of communication that requires
neither ear nor tongue. To an extent your present condition is what
men call supernatural, although in reality you have been divested
of only a part of your former material grossness, which object has
been accomplished under perfectly natural conditions; your mind no
longer requires the material medium by which to converse with the
spiritual. We are conversing now by thought contact, there is no
atmosphere here, your tongue moves merely from habit, and not from
necessity. I am reading your mind as you in turn are mine, neither
of us is speaking as you were accustomed to speak." "I can not
accept that assertion,"I said; "it is to me impossible to realize
the existence of such conditions." "As it is for any man to explain
any phenomenon in life,"he said. "Do you not remember that you
ceased to respire, and were not conscious of the fact?" "Yes."
"That your heart had stopped beating, your blood no longer
circulated, while you were in ignorance of the change?" "That is
also true." "Now I will prove my last assertion. Close your mouth,
and think of a question you wish to propound." I did so, and to my
perfect understanding and comprehension he answered me with closed
mouth. "What will be the end?"I exclaimed, or thought aloud. "I am
possessed of nearly all the attributes that I once supposed
inherent only in a corpse, yet I live, I see clearly, I hear
plainly, I have a quickened being, and a mental perception
intensified and exquisite. Why and how has this been accomplished?
What will be the result of this eventful journey?" "Restful, you
should say,"he remarked; "the present is restful, the end will be
peace. Now I will give you a lesson concerning the words Why and
How that you have just used."

CHAPTER XLVIII. WHY AND HOW."THE STRUGGLING RAY OF LIGHT FROM THOSE
FARTHERMOST OUTREACHES." "Confronting mankind there stands a
sphinx- the vast Unknown. However well a man may be informed
concerning a special subject, his farthermost outlook concerning
that subject is bounded by an impenetrable infinity." "Granted,"I
interrupted, "that mankind has not by any means attained a
condition of perfection, yet you must admit that questions once
regarded as inscrutable problems are now illuminated by the
discoveries of science." "And the discovered, as I will show, has
only transferred ignorance to other places,"he replied. "Science
has confined its labors to superficial descriptions, not the
elucidation of the fundamental causes of phenomena." "I can not
believe you, and question if you can prove what you say." "It needs
no argument to illustrate the fact. Science boldly heralds her
descriptive discoveries, and as carefully ignores her explanatory
failures. She dare not attempt to explain the why even of the
simplest things. Why does the robin hop, and the snipe walk? Do not
tell me this is beneath the notice of men of science, for science
claims that no subject is outside her realm. Search your works on
natural history and see if your man of science, who describes the
habits of these birds, explains the reason for this evident fact.
How does the tree-frog change its color? Do not answer me in the
usual superficial manner concerning the reflection of light, but
tell me why the skin of that creature is enabled to perform this
function? How does the maple tree secrete a sweet, wholesome sap,
and deadly nightshade, growing in the same soil and living on the
same elements, a poison? What is it that your scientific men find
in the cells of root, or rootlet, to indicate that one may produce
a food, and the other a noxious secretion that can destroy life?
Your microscopist will discuss cell tissues learnedly, will speak
fluently of physiological structure, will describe organic
intercellular appearances, but ignore all that lies beyond. Why
does the nerve in the tongue respond to a sensation, and produce on
the mind the sense of taste? What is it that enables the nerve in
the nose to perform its discriminative function? You do not answer.
Silver is sonorous, lead is not; why these intrinsic differences?
Aluminum is a light metal, gold a heavy one; what reason can you
offer to explain the facts other than the inadequate term density?
Mercury at ordinary temperature is a liquid; can your scientist
tell why it is not a solid? Of course anyone can say because its
molecules move freely on each other. Such an answer evades the
issue; why do they so readily exert this action? Copper produces
green or blue salts; nickel produces green salts; have you ever
been told why they observe these rules? Water solidifies at about
thirty-two degrees above your so-called zero; have you ever asked
an explanation of your scientific authority why it selects that
temperature? Alcohol dissolves resins, water dissolves gums; have
you any explanation to offer why either liquid should dissolve
anything, much less exercise a preference? One species of turtle
has a soft shell, another a hard shell; has your authority in
natural history told you why this is so? The albumen of the egg of
the hen hardens at one hundred and eighty degrees Fahrenheit; the
albumen of the eggs of some turtles can not be easily coagulated by
boiling the egg in pure water; why these differences? Iceland spar
and dog-tooth spar are identical, both are crystallized carbonate
of lime; has your mineralogist explained why this one substance
selects these different forms of crystallization, or why any
crystal of any substance is ever produced? Why is common salt white
and charcoal black? Why does the dog lap and the calf drink? One
child has black hair, another brown, a third red; why? Search your
physiology for the answer and see if your learned authority can
tell you why the life-current makes these distinctions? Why do the
cells of the liver secrete bile, and those of the mouth saliva? Why
does any cell secrete anything ? A parrot can speak; what has your
anatomist found in the structure of the brain, tongue, or larynx of
that bird to explain why this accomplishment is not as much the
birthright of the turkey? The elements that form morphine and
strychnine, also make bread, one a food, the other a poison; can
your chemist offer any reason for the fact that morphine and bread
possess such opposite characters? The Earth has one satellite,
Saturn is encompassed by a ring; it is not sufficient to attempt to
refer to these familiar facts; tell me, does your earth-bound
astronomer explain why the ring of Saturn was selected for that
planet? Why are the salts of aluminum astringent, the salts of
magnesium cathartic, and the salts of arsenicum deadly poison? Ask
your toxicologist, and silence will be your answer. Why will some
substances absorb moisture from the air, and liquefy, while others
become as dry as dust under like conditions? Why does the vapor of
sulphuric ether inflame, while the vapor of chloroform is not
combustible, under ordinary conditions? Oil of turpentine, oil of
lemon, and oil of bergamot differ in odor, yet they are composed of
the same elements, united in the same proportion; why should they
possess such distinctive, individual characteristics? Further
search of the chemist will explain only to shove the word why into
another space, as ripples play with and toss a cork about. Why does
the newly-born babe cry for food before its intellect has a chance
for worldly education? Why?" "Stop,"I interrupted; "these questions
are absurd." "So some of your scientific experts would assert,"he
replied; "perhaps they would even become indignant at my
presumption in asking them, and call them childish; nevertheless
these men can not satisfy their own cravings in attempting to
search the illimitable, and in humiliation, or irritation, they
must ignore the word Why. That word Why to man dominates the
universe. It covers all phenomena, and thrusts inquiry back from
every depth. Science may trace a line of thought into the
infinitely little, down, down, beyond that which is tangible, and
at last in that far distant inter-microscopical infinity, monstrous
by reason of its very minuteness, must rest its labors against the
word, Why. Man may carry his superficial investigation into the
immeasurably great, beyond our sun and his family of satellites,
into the outer depths of the solar system, of which our sun is a
part, past his sister stars, and out again into the depths of the
cold space channels beyond; into other systems and out again, until
at last the nebuloe shrink and disappear in the gloom of
thought-conjecture, and as the straggling ray of light from those
farthermost outreaches, too feeble to tell of its origin, or carry
a story of nativity, enters his eye, be covers his face and rests
his intellect against the word Why. From the remote space caverns
of the human intellect, beyond the field of perception, whether we
appeal to conceptions of the unknowable in the infinitely little,
or the immeasurably great, we meet a circle of adamant, as
impenetrable as the frozen cliffs of the Antarctic, that
incomprehensible word-Why! "Why did the light wave spring into his
field of perception by reflection from the microscopic speck in the
depths of littleness, on the one hand; and how did this sliver of
the sun's ray originate in the depths of inter-stellar space, on
the other?" I bowed my head.

 CHAPTER XLIX.

OSCILLATING THROUGH SPACE.- EARTH'S SHELL ABOVE ME?. Continued my
companion: "We have just now crossed the line of gravitation. We
were drawn downward until at a certain point, to which I called
your attention at the time, we recently crossed the curved plane of
perfect rest, where gravity ceases, and by our momentum are now
passing beyond that plane, and are now pressing against the bond of
gravitation again. This shell in which gravity centers is
concentric with that of the earth's exterior, and is about seven
hundred miles below its surface. Each moment of time will now
behold us carried farther from this sphere of attraction, and thus
the increasing distance increases the force, of the restraining
influence. Our momentum is thus retarded, and consequently the
rapidity of our motion is continually decreasing. At last when the
forces of gravitation and mass motion neutralize each other, we
will come to a state of rest again. When our motion in this
direction ceases, however, gravitation, imperishable, continues to
exert its equalizing influence, the result being a start in the
opposite direction, and we will then reverse our course, and
retrace our path, crossing again the central band of attraction, to
retreat and fly to the opposite side of the power of greater
attraction, into the expanse from which we came, and that is now
above us." "Can this oscillation ever end? Are we to remain thus,
as an unceasing pendulum, traversing space, to and fro across this
invisible shell of attraction from now until the end of time?" "No;
there are influences to prevent such an experience; one being the
friction of the attenuated atmosphere into which we plunge each
time that we cross the point of greater gravity, and approach the
crust of the earth. Thus each succeeding vibration is in shorter
lines, and at last we will come to a state of perfect rest at the
center of gravity." "I can only acquiesce in meek submission,
powerless even to argue, for I perceive that the foundations for my
arguments must be based on those observed conditions of natural
laws formerly known to me, and that do not encompass us here; I
accept, therefore, your statements as I have several times
heretofore, because I can not refute them. I must close my eyes to
the future, and accept it on faith; I cease to mourn the past, I
can not presage the end." "Well spoken,"he replied; "and while we
are undergoing this necessary delay, this oscillating motion, to
which we must both submit before we can again continue our journey,
I will describe some conditions inherent in the three spheres of
which the rind of the earth is composed, for I believe that you are
now ready to receive and profit by facts that heretofore you would
have rejected in incredulity. "The outer circle, coat, or contour,
of which you have heard others besides myself speak, is the surface
crust of our globe, the great sphere of land and water on which man
is at present an inhabitant. This is the exposed part of the Earth,
and is least desirable as a residence. It is affected by grievous
atmospheric changes, and restless physical conditions, such as men,
in order to exist in, must fortify against at the expense of much
bodily and mental energy, which leads them, necessarily, to
encourage the animal at the expense of the ethereal. The unmodified
rays of the sun produce aerial convulsions that are marked by
thermal contrasts, and other meteorological variations, during
which the heat of summer and the cold of winter follow each other
periodically and unceasingly. These successive solar pulsations
generate winds, calms, and storms, and in order to protect himself
against such exposures and changes in material surroundings, man
toils, suffers, and comes to believe that the doom, if not the
object, of life on earth is the preservation of the earthy body.
All conditions and phases of nature on this outer crust are in an
angry struggle, and this commotion envelops the wretched home, and
governs the life of man. The surrounding cyclones of force and
matter have distorted the peaceful side of what human nature might
be until the shortened life of man has become a passionate,
deplorable, sorrowful struggle for physical existence, from the
cradle to the grave. Of these facts man is practically ignorant,
although each individual is aware he is not satisfied with his
condition. If his afflictions were obvious to himself, his
existence would be typical of a life of desolation and anguish. You
know full well that the condition of the outer sphere is, as I have
described it, a bleak, turbulent surface, the roof of the earth on
which man exists, as a creeping parasite does on a rind of fruit,
exposed to the fury of the ever-present earth storms. The central
circle, or medial sphere, the shell, or layer of gravitation, lies
conformably to the outer configuration of the, globe, about seven
hundred miles towards its center. It stretches beneath the outer
circle ( sphere ) as a transparent sheet, a shell of energy, the
center of gravitation. The material crust of the earth rests on
this placid sphere of vigor, excepting in a few places, where, as
in the crevice we have entered, gaps, or crevices, in matter exist,
beginning from near the outer surface and extending diagonally
through the medial and inner spheres into the intra-earth space
beyond. This medial sphere is a form of pure force, a disturbance
of motion, and although without weight it induces, or conserves,
gravity. It is invisible to mortal eyes, and is frictionless, but
really is the bone of the earth. On it matter, the retarded energy
of space, space dust, has arranged itself as dust collects on a
bubble of water. This we call matter. The material portion of the
earth is altogether a surface film, an insignificant skin over the
sphere of purity, the center of gravitation. Although men naturally
imagine that the density and stability of the earth are dependent
on the earthy particles, of which his own body is a part, such is
not the case ... Earth, as man upon the outer surface can now know
it, is an aggregation of material particles, a shell resting on
this globular sphere of medial force, which attracts solid matter
from both the outer and inner surfaces of earth, forming thereby
the middle of the three concentric spheres. This middle sphere is
the reverse of the outer, or surface, layer in one respect, for,
while it attracts solids, gases are repelled by it, and thus the
atmosphere becomes less dense as we descend from the outer surfaces
of the earth. The greater degree of attraction for gases belongs,
therefore, to the earth's exterior surface." "Exactly at the
earth's exterior surface ?"I asked. "Practically so. The greatest
density of the air is found a few miles below the surface of the
ocean; the air becomes more attenuated as we proceed in either
direction from that point. Were this not the case, the atmosphere
that surrounds the earth would be quickly absorbed into its
substance, or expand into space and disappear." "Scientific men
claim that the atmosphere is forty-five geographical miles in depth
over the earth's surface,"I said. "If the earth is eight thousand
miles in diameter, how long would such an atmosphere, a skin only,
over a great ball, resist such attraction, and remain above the
globe? Were it really attracted towards its center- it would
disappear as a film of water sinks into a sponge." "Do you know,"I
interrupted, "that if these statements were made to men they would
not be credited? Scientific men have calculated the weights of the
planets, and have estimated therefrom the density of the earth,
showing it to be solid, and knowing its density, they would, on
this consideration alone, discredit your story concerning the earth
shell." "You mistake, as you will presently see. It is true that
man's ingenuity has enabled him to ascertain the weights and
densities of the planets, but do you mean to say that these
scientific results preclude the possibility of a hollow interior of
the heavenly bodies?" "I confess, I do." "You should know then,
that what men define as density of the earth, is but an average
value, which is much higher than that exhibited by materials in the
surface layers of the earth crust, such as come within the scrutiny
of man. This fact allows mortals of upper earth but a vague
conjecture as to the nature of the seemingly much heavier
substances that exist in the interior of the earth. Have men any
data on hand to show exactly how matter is distributed below the
limited zone that is accessible to their investigations?" "I think
not." "You may safely accept, then, that the earth shell I have
described to you embraces in a compact form the total weight of the
earth. Even though men take for granted that matter fills out the
whole interior of our planet, such material would not, if
distributed as on Earth's surface, give the earth the density he
has determined for it." "I must acquiesce in your explanations."
"Let us now go a step further in this argument. What do you imagine
is the nature of those heavier substances whose existence deep
within the Earth is suggested by the exceedingly high total density
observed by man on upper Earth?" "I am unable to explain,
especially as the materials surrounding us here, seemingly, do not
differ much from those with which my former life experience has
made me acquainted." "Your observation is correct, there is no
essential difference in this regard. But as we are descending into
the interior of this globe, and are approaching the central seat of
the shell of energy, the opposing force into which we plunge
becomes correspondingly stronger, and as a consequence, matter
pressed within it becomes really lighter. Your own experience about
your weight gradually disappearing during this journey should
convince you of the correctness of this fact." "Indeed, it does,"I
admitted. "You will then readily understand, that the heavy
material to which surface-bred mortals allude as probably
constituting the interior of the earth, is, in fact, nothing but
the manifestation of a matter-supporting force, as exemplified in
the sphere of attractive energy, the seat of which we are soon to
encounter on our journey. Likewise the mutual attraction of the
heavenly bodies is not a property solely of their material part,
but an expression in which both the force-spheres and the matter
collected thereon take part. "Tell me more of the sphere in which
gravitation is intensest." "Of that you are yet to judge,"he
replied. "When we come to a state of rest in the stratum of greater
gravity, we will then traverse this crevice in the sheet of energy
until we reach the edge of the earth crust, after which we will
ascend towards the interior of the earth, until we reach the inner
crust, which is, as before explained, a surface of matter that lies
comformably with the external crust of the earth, and which is the
interior surface of the solid part of the earth. There is a concave
world beneath the outer convex world." "I can not comprehend you.
You speak of continuing our journey towards the center of the
earth, and at the same time you say that after leaving the Median
Circle, we will then ascend, which seems contradictory." "I have
endeavored to show you that matter is resting in or on a central
sphere of energy, which attracts solid bodies towards its central
plane. From this fundamental and permanent seat of gravity we may
regard our progress as up-hill, whether we proceed towards the
hollow center or towards the outer surface of the globe. If a stick
weighted on one end is floated upright in water, an insect on the
top of the stick above the water will fall to the surface of the
liquid, and yet the same insect will rise to the surface of the
water if liberated beneath the water at the bottom of the stick.
This comparison is not precisely applicable to our present
position, for there is no change in medium here, but it may serve
as an aid to thought and may indicate to you that which I wish to
convey when I say ` we ascend' in both directions as we pull
against Gravity. The terms up and down are not absolute, but
relative." Thus we continued an undefined period in mind
conversation; and of the information gained in my experience of
that delightful condition, I have the privilege now to record but
a small portion, and even this statement of facts appears, as I
glance backward into my human existence, as if it may seem to
others to border on the incredible. During all that time- I know
not how long the period may have been- we were alternately passing
and repassing through the partition of division ( the sphere of
gravity ) that separated the inner from the outer substantial crust
of earth. With each vibration our line of travel became shorter and
shorter, like the decreasing oscillations of a pendulum, and at
last I could no longer perceive the rushing motion of a medium like
the air. Finally my guide said that we were at perfect rest at a
point in that mysterious medial sphere which, at a distance of
about seven hundred miles below the level of the sea, concentrates
in its encompassing curvature, the mighty power of gravitation. We
were fixed seven hundred miles from the outer surface of the globe,
but more than three thousand from the center. CHAPTER L. MY WIGHT
ANNIHILATED.- "TELL ME,"I CRIED IN ALARM,"IS THIS TO BE A LIVING
TOMB?" "If you will reflect upon the condition we are now in, you
will perceive that it must be one of unusual scientific interest.
If you imagine a body at rest, in an intangible medium, and not in
contact with a gas or any substance capable of creating friction,
that body by the prevailing theory of matter and motion, unless
disturbed by an impulse from without, would remain forever at
absolute rest. We now occupy such a position. In whatever direction
we may now be situated, it seems to us that we are upright. We are
absolutely without weight, and in a perfectly frictionless medium.
Should an inanimate body begin to revolve here, it would continue
that motion forever. If our equilibrium should now be disturbed,
and we should begin to move in a direction coinciding with the
plane in which we are at rest, we would continue moving with the
same rapidity in that direction until our course was arrested by
some opposing object. We are not subject to attraction of matter,
for at this place gravitation robs matter of its gravity, and has
no influence on extraneous substances. We are now in the center of
gravitation, the Sphere of Rest." "Let me think it out,"I replied,
and reasoning from his remarks, I mentally followed the chain to
its sequence, and was startled as suddenly it dawned upon me that
if his argument was true we must remain motionless in this spot
until death ( could beings in conditions like ourselves die beyond
the death we had already achieved ) or the end of time. We were at
perfect rest, in absolute vacancy, there being, as I now accepted
without reserve, neither gas, liquid, nor solid, that we could
employ as a lever to start us into motion. "Tell me," I cried in
alarm, "is this to be a living tomb? Are we to remain suspended
here forever, and if not, by what method can we hope to extricate
ourselves from this state of perfect quiescence?"He again took the
bar of iron from my hand, and cautiously gave it a whirling motion,
releasing it as he did so. It revolved silently and rapidly in
space without support or pivot. "So it would continue,"he remarked,
"until the end of time, were it not for the fact that I could not
possibly release it in a condition of absolute horizontal rest.
There is a slight, slow, lateral motion that will carry the object
parallel with this sheet of energy to the material side of this
crevice, when its motion will be arrested by the earth it strikes."
"That I can understand,"I replied, and then a ray of light broke
upon me. " Had not Cavendish demonstrated that, when a small ball
of lead is suspended on a film of silk, near a mass of iron or
lead, it is drawn towards the greater body? We will be drawn by
gravity to the nearest cliff,"I cried. "You mistake,"he answered;
"Cavendish performed his experiments on the surface of the earth,
and there gravity is always ready to start an object into motion.
Here objects have no weight, and neither attract nor repel each
other. The force of cohesion holds together substances that are in
contact, but as gravitation can not now affect matter out of
molecular contact with other forms of matter, because of the
equilibrium of all objects, so it may be likewise said, that bodies
out of contact have at this point no attraction for one another. If
they possessed this attribute, long ago we would have been drawn
towards the earth cliff with inconceivable velocity. However, if by
any method our bodies should receive an impulse sufficient to start
them into motion, ever so gently though it be, we in like manner
would continue to move in this frictionless medium until "- "We
would strike the material boundary of this crevice,"I interrupted.
"Yes; but can you conceive of any method by which such voluntary
motion can now be acquired?" "No." "Does it not seem to you,"he
continued, "that when skillful mechanics on the Earth's surface are
able to adjust balances so delicately that in the face of friction
of metal, friction of air, inertia of mass, the thousandth part of
a grain can produce motion of the great beams and pans of such
balances, we, in this location where there is no friction and no
opposing medium -none at all-should be able to induce mass motion?"
"I can not imagine how it is possible, unless we shove each other
apart. There is no other object to push against,-but why do you
continue to hold me so tightly?"I interrupted myself to ask, for he
was clasping me firmly again. "In order that you may not leave
me,"he replied. "Come, you trifle,"I said somewhat irritated; "you
have just argued that we are immovably suspended in a frictionless
medium, and fixed in our present position; you ask me to suggest
some method by which we can create motion, and I fail to devise it,
and almost in the same sentence you say that you fear that I will
leave you. Cease your incongruities, and advise with me
rationally." "Where is the bar of iron?"he asked. I turned towards
its former location; it had disappeared. "Have you not occasionally
felt,"he asked, "that in your former life your mind was a slave in
an earthly prison? Have you never, especially in your dreams,
experienced a sensation of mental confinement?" "Yes." "Know
then,"he replied, "that there is a connection between the mind and
the body of mortal beings, in which matter confines mind, and yet
mind governs matter. How else could the will of men and animals
impart voluntary motion to earthy bodies? With beings situated as
are the animals on the surface of the Earth, mind alone can not
overcome the friction of matter. A person could suspend himself
accurately on a string, or balance himself on a pivot, and wish
with the entire force of his mind that his body would revolve, and
still he would remain at perfect rest." "Certainly. A man would be
considered crazy who attempted it,"I answered. "Notwithstanding
your opinion, in time to come, human beings on the surface of the
earth will investigate in this very direction,"he replied, "and in
the proper time mental evolution will, by experimentation, prove
the fact of this mind and matter connection, and demonstrate that
even extraneous matter may be made subservient to mind influences.
On earth, mind acts on the matter of one's body to produce motion
of matter, and the spirit within, which is a slave to matter, moves
with it. Contraries rule here. Mind force acts on pure space
motion, moving itself and matter with it, and that, too, without
any exertion of the material body which now is a nonentity, mind
here being the master." "How can I believe you?"I replied. "Know,
then,"he said, "that we are in motion now, propelled by my will
power." "Prove it." "You may prove it yourself,"he said; "but be
careful, or we will separate forever." Releasing his grasp, he
directed me to wish that I were moving directly to the right. I did
so; the distance widened between us. "Wish intensely that you would
move in a circle about me." I acquiesced, and at once my body began
to circle around him. "Call for the bar of iron." I did as
directed, and soon it came floating out of space into my very hand.
"I am amazed-,"I ejaculated; "yes, more surprised at these
phenomena than at anything that has preceded." "You need not be;
you move now under the influences of natural laws that are no more
obscure or wonderful than those under which you have always
existed. Instead of exercising its influence on a brain, and thence
indirectly on a material body, your mind force is exerting its
action through energy on matter itself. Matter is here subservient.
It is nearly the same as vacuity, mind being a comprehensive
reality. The positions we have heretofore occupied have been
reversed, and mind now dominates. Know, that as your body is now
absolutely without weight, and is suspended in a frictionless
medium, the most delicate balance of a chemist can not approach in
sensitiveness the adjustment herein exemplified. Your body does not
weigh the fraction of the millionth part of a grain, and where
there is neither material weight nor possible friction, even the
attrition that on surface earth results from a needle point that
rests on an agate plate is immeasurably greater in comparison. Pure
mind energy is capable of disturbing the equilibrium of matter in
our situation, as you have seen exemplified by our movements and
extraneous materials, dead matter obeys the spiritual. The bar of
iron obeyed your call, the spiritless metal is subservient to the
demands of intelligence. But, come, we must continue our journey."
Grasping me again, he exclaimed: "Wish with all intensity that we
may move forward, and I will do the same." I did so. "We are now
uniting our energies in the creation of motion,"he said; "we are
moving rapidly, and with continually accelerated speed; before long
we will perceive the earthy border of this chasm." And yet it
seemed to me that we were at perfect rest.

CHAPTER LI. IS THAT A MORTAL?- "THE END OF THE EARTH." At length I
perceived, in the distance, a crescent-shaped ring of silver
luster. It grew broader, expanding beneath my gaze, and appeared to
approach rapidly. "Hold; cease your desire for onward motion,"said
the guide; "we approach too rapidly. Quick, wish with all your mind
that you were motionless." I did so, and we rested in front of a
ridge of brilliant material, that in one direction, towards the
Earth's outer circle, broadened until it extended upward as far as
the eye could reach in the form. of a bold precipice, and in the
other towards the inner world, shelved gradually away as an ocean
beach might do. "Tell me, what is this barrier?"I asked. "It is the
bisected edge of the earth crevice,"he said. "That overhanging
upright bluff reaches towards the external surface of the earth,
the land of your former home. That shelving approach beneath is the
entrance to the "Inner Circle,"the concavity of our world." Again
we approached the visible substance, moving gently under the will
of my guide. The shore became more distinctly outlined as we
advanced, inequalities that were before unnoticed became
perceptible, and the silver-like material resolved itself into
ordinary earth. Then I observed, upright and motionless, on the
edge of the shore that reached toward the inner shell of earth,
towards that "Unknown Country "beyond, a figure in human form. "Is
that a mortal?"I asked. "Are we nearing humanity again?" "It is a
being of mortal build, a messenger who awaits our coming, and who
is to take charge of your person and conduct you farther,"he
replied. "It has been my duty to crush, to overcome by successive
lessons your obedience to your dogmatic, materialistic earth
philosophy, and bring your mind to comprehend that life on earth's
surface is only a step towards a brighter existence, which may,
when selfishness is conquered, in a time to come, be gained by
mortal man, and while he is in the flesh. The vicissitudes through
which you have recently passed should be to you an impressive
lesson, but the future holds for you a lesson far more important,
the knowledge of spiritual, or mental evolution which men may yet
approach ; but that I would not presume to indicate now, even to
you. Your earthly body has become a useless shell, and when you lay
it aside, as you soon can do, as I may say you are destined to do,
you will feel a relief as if an abnormal excrescence had been
removed; but you can not now comprehend such a condition. That
change will not occur until you have been further educated in the
purely occult secrets for which I have partly prepared you, and the
material part of your organism will at any time thereafter come and
go at command of your will. On that adjacent shore, the person you
have observed, your next teacher, awaits you." "Am I to leave
you?"I cried in despair, for suddenly the remembrance of home came
into my mind, and the thought, as by a flash, that this being alone
could guide me back to earth. "Recall your words, do not desert me
now after leading me beyond even alchemistic imaginings into this
subterranean existence, the result of what you call your natural,
or pure, ethereal lessons." He shook his head. "I beg of you, I
implore of you, not to abandon me now; have you no compassion, no
feeling? You are the one tie that binds me to earth proper, the
only intelligence that I know to be related to a human in all this
great, bright blank." Again he shook his head. "Hearken to my
pleadings. Listen to my allegation. You stood on the edge of the
brook spring in Kentucky, your back to the darkness of that gloomy
cavern, and I voluntarily gave you my hand as to a guide; I turned
from the verdure of the earth, the sunshine of the past, and
accompanied you into as dismal a cavern as man ever entered. I have
since alternately rebelled at your methods, and again have trusted
you implicitly as we passed through scenes that rational
imagination scarce could conjure. I have successively lost my
voice, my weight, my breath, my heart throb, and my soul for aught
I know. Now an unknown future awaits the on the one hand, in which
you say my body is to disappear, and on the other you are standing,
the only link between earth and my self-existence, a semi-mortal it
may be, to speak mildly, for God only knows your true rank in
life's scale. Be you man or not, you brought me here, and are
responsible for my future safety. I plead and beg of you either to
go on with me into the forthcoming uncertainty "Within the Unknown
Country "to which you allude, or carry me back to upper earth." He
shook his head again, and motioned me onward, and his powerful will
overcoming my feeble resistance, impelled me towards that
mysterious shore. I floated helpless, as a fragment of camphor
whirls and spins on a surface of clear, warm water, spinning and
whirling aimlessly about, but moving onward. My feet rested on
solid earth, and I awkwardly struggled a short distance onward and
upward, and then stepped upon the slope that reached, as he had
said, inward and upward towards the unrevealed "Inner Circle."I had
entered now that mysterious third circle or sphere, and I stood on
the very edge of the wonderful land I was destined to explore, "The
Unknown Country."The strange, peaceful being whom I had observed on
the shore, stepped to my side, and clasped both my hands, and the
guide of former days waved me an adieu. I sank upon my knees and
imploringly raised my arms in supplication, but the comrade of my
journey turned about, and began to retrace his course. Suspended in
vacancy, he seemed to float as a spirit would if it were wafted
diagonally into the heavens, and acquiring momentum rapidly, became
quickly a bright speck, seemingly a silver mote in the occult earth
shine of that central sphere, and soon vanished from view. In all
my past eventful history there was nothing similar to or
approaching in keenness the agony that I suffered at this moment,
and I question if shipwrecked sailor or entombed miner ever
experienced the sense of utter desolation that now possessed and
overcame me. Light everywhere about me, ever-present light, but
darkness within, darkness indescribable, and mental distress
unutterable. I fell upon my face in agony, and thought of other
times, and those remembrances of my once happy upper earth life
became excruciatingly painful, for when a person is in misery,
pleasant recollections, by contrast, increase the pain. "Let my
soul die now as my body has done,"I moaned; "for even mental life,
all I now possess, is a burden. The past to me is a painful,
melancholy recollection; the future is "- I shuddered, for who
could foretell my future? I glanced at the immovable being with the
sweet, mild countenance, who stood silent on the strand beside me,
and whom I shall not now attempt to describe. He replied: "The
future is operative and speculative. It leads the contemplative to
view with reverence and admiration the glorious works of the
Creator, and inspires him with the most exalted ideas of the
perfections of his divine Creator." Then he added: "Have you
accepted that whatever seems to be is not, and that that which
seems not to be, is? Have you learned that facts are fallacies, and
physical existence a delusion? Do you accept that material bliss is
impossible, and that while humanity is working towards the
undiscovered land, man is not, can not be satisfied?" "Yes,"I said;
"I admit anything, everything. I do not know that I am here or that
you are there. I do not know that I have ever been, or that any
form of matter has ever had an existence. Perhaps material things
are not, perhaps vacuity only is tangible." "Are you willing to
relinquish your former associations, to cease to concern yourself
in the affairs of men ? Do you "- He hesitated, seemed to consider
a point that I could not grasp; then, without completing his
sentence, or waiting for me to answer, added: "Come, my friend, let
us enter the expanses of the Unknown Country. You will soon behold
the original of your vision, the hope of humanity, and will rest in
the land of Etidorhpa. Come, my friend, let us hasten." Arm in arm
we passed into that domain of peace and tranquillity, and as I
stepped onward and upward perfect rest came over my troubled
spirit. All thoughts of former times vanished. The cares of life
faded; misery, distress, hatred, envy, jealousy, and unholy
passions, were blotted from existence. Excepting my love for dear
ones still earth-enthralled, and the strand of sorrow that,
stretching from soul to soul, linked us together, the past became
a blank. I had reached the land of Etidorhpa

INTERLUDE. CHAPTER LII. THE LAST FAREWELL. My mysterious guest, he
of the silver, flowing beard, read the last word of the foregoing
manuscript, and then laid the sheet of paper on the table, and
rested his head upon his hand, gazing thoughtfully at the open
fire. Thus he sat for a considerable period in silence. Then he
said: "You have heard part of my story, that portion which I am
commanded to make known now, and you have learned how, by natural
methods, I passed by successive steps while in the body-, to the
door that death only, as yet, opens to humanity. You understand
also that, although of human form, I am not as other men ( for with
me matter is subservient to mind ), and as you have promised, so
you must act, and do my bidding concerning the manuscript." "But
there is surely more to follow. You will tell me of what you saw
and experienced beyond the end of earth, within the possessions of
Etidorhpa. Tell me of that Unknown Country." "No,"he answered;
"this is the end, at least so far as my connection with you is
concerned. You still question certain portions of my narrative, I
perceive, notwithstanding the provings I have given you, and yet as
time passes investigation will show that every word I have read or
uttered is true, historically, philosophically, and spiritually (
which you now doubt ), and men will yet readily understand how the
seemingly profound, unfathomable phenomena I have encountered may
be verified. I have studied and learned by bitter experience in a
school that teaches from the outgoings of a deeper philosophy than
human science has reached, especially modern materialistic science
which, however, step by step it is destined to reach. And yet I
have recorded but a small part of the experiences that I have
undergone. What I have related is only a foretaste of the
inexhaustible feast which, in the wisdom expanse of the future,
will yet be spread before man, and which tempts him onward and
upward. This narrative, which rests against the beginning of my
real story, the Unknown Country and its possibilities should
therefore incite to renewed exertions, both mental and
experimental, those permitted to review it. I have carried my
history to the point at which I can say to you, very soon afterward
I gave up my body temporarily, by a perfectly natural process, a
method that man can yet employ, and passed as a spiritual being
into the ethereal spaces, through those many mansions which I am
not permitted to describe at this time, and from which I have been
forced unwillingly to return and take up the semblance of my body,
in order to meet you and record these events. I must await the
development and expansion of mind that will permit men to accept
this faithful record of my history before completing the narrative,
for men are yet unprepared. Men must seriously consider those
truths which, under inflexible natural laws, govern the destiny of
man, but which, if mentioned at this day can only be viewed as the
hallucinations of a disordered mind. To many this manuscript will
prove a passing romance, to others an enigma, to others still it
will be a pleasing study. Men are not now in a condition to receive
even this paper. That fact I know full well, and I have accordingly
arranged that thirty years shall pass before it is made public.
Then they will have begun to study more deeply into force
disturbances, exhibitions of energy that are now known and called
imponderable bodies ( perhaps some of my statements will then even
be verified ), and to reflect over the connection of matter
therewith. A few minds will then be capable of vaguely conceiving
possibilities, which this paper will serve to foretell, for a true
solution of the great problems of the ethereal unknown is herein
suggested, the study of which will lead to a final elevation of
humanity, such as I dare not prophesy." "Much of the paper is
obscure to me,"I said; "and there are occasional phrases and
repetitions that appear to be interjected, possibly, with an
object, and which are yet disconnected from the narrative proper."
"That is true; the paper often contains statements that are
emblematical, and which you can not understand, but yet such
portions carry to others a hidden meaning. I am directed to speak
to many persons besides yourself, and I can not meet those whom I
address more directly than I do through this communication. These
pages will serve to instruct many people whom you will never know,
to whom I have brought messages that will in secret be read between
the lines." "Why not give it to such persons ?" "Because I am
directed to bring it to you,"he replied, "and you are required:
First, To seal the manuscript, and place it in the inner vault of
your safe. "Second, To draw up a will, and provide in case of your
death, that after the expiration of thirty years from this date,
the seals are to be broken, and a limited edition published in book
form, by one you select. "Third, an artist capable of grasping the
conceptions will at the proper time be found, to whom the
responsibility of illustrating the volume is to be entrusted, he
receiving credit therefor. Only himself and yourself ( or your
selected agent ) are to presume to select the subjects for
illustration. "Fourth, in case you are in this city, upon the
expiration of thirty years, you are to open the package and follow
the directions given in the envelope therein." And he then placed
on the manuscript a sealed envelope addressed to myself. "This I
have promised already,"I said. "Very well,"he remarked, "I will bid
you farewell." "Wait a moment; it is unjust to leave the narrative
thus uncompleted. You have been promised a future in comparison
with which the experiences you have undergone, and have related to
me, were tame; you had just met on the edge of the inner circle
that mysterious being concerning whom I am deeply interested, as I
am in the continuation of your personal narrative, and you have
evidently more to relate, for you must have passed into that
Unknown Country. You claim to have done so, but you break the
thread in the most attractive part by leaving the future to
conjecture." "It must be so. This is a history of man on Earth, the
continuation will be a history of man within the Unknown Country."
"And I am not to receive the remainder of your story?"I reiterated,
still loth to give it up. "No; I shall not appear directly to you
again. Your part in this work will have ended when, after thirty
years, you carry out the directions given in the sealed letter
which, with this manuscript, I entrust to your care. I must return
now to the shore that separated me from my former guide, and having
again laid down this semblance of a body, go once more into "- He
buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Yes; this strange, cynical
being whom I had at first considered an impertinent fanatic, and
then, more than once afterward, had been induced to view as a
cunning impostor, or to fear as a cold, semi-mortal, sobbed like a
child. "It is too much,"he said, seemingly speaking to himself;
"too much to require of one not yet immortal, for the good of his
race. I am again with men, nearly a human, and I long to go back
once more to my old home, my wife, my children. Why am I forbidden?
The sweets of Paradise can not comfort the mortal who must give up
his home and family, and yet carry his earth- thought beyond. Man
can not possess unalloyed joys, and blessings spiritual, and retain
one backward longing for mundane subjects, and I now yearn again
for my earth love, my material family. Having tasted of
semi-celestial pleasures in one of the mansions of that complacent,
pure, and restful sphere, I now exist in the border land, but my
earth home is not relinquished, I cling as a mortal to former
scenes, and crave to meet my lost loved ones. All of earth must be
left behind if Paradise is ever wholly gained, yet I have still my
sublunary thoughts. "Etidorhpa! Etidorhpa!"he pleaded, turning his
eyes as if towards one I could not see, "Etidorhpa, my old home
calls. Thou knowest that the beginning of man on earth is a cry
born of love, and the end of man on earth is a cry for love; love
is a gift of Etidorhpa, and thou, Etidorhpa, the soul of love,
shouldst have compassion on a pleading mortal." He raised his hands
in supplication. "Have mercy on me, Etidorhpa, as I would on you if
you were I and I were Etidorhpa." Then with upturned face he stood
long and silent, listening. "Ah,"he murmured at last, as if in
reply to a voice I could nut catch, a voice that carried to his ear
an answer of deep disappointment; "thou spokest truly in the
vision, Etidorhpa; it is love that enslaves mankind; love that
commands; love that ensnares and rules mankind, and thou,
Etidorhpa, art the soul of love. True it is that were there no
Etidorhpa, there would still be tears on earth, but the cold,
meaningless tears of pain only. No mourning people, no sorrowful
partings, no sobbing mothers kneeling with upturned faces, no
planting of the myrtle and the rose on sacred graves. There would
be no child-love, no home, no tomb, no sorrow, no Beyond " He
hesitated, sank upon his knees, pleadingly raised his clasped hands
and seethed to listen to that far-off voice, then bowed his head,
and answered: " Yes; thou art right, Etidorhpa- although thou
bringest sorrow to mortals, without thee and this sorrow-gift there
could be no bright hereafter. Thou art just, Etidorhpa, and always
wise. Love is the seed, and sorrow is the harvest, but this harvest
of sadness is to man the richest gift of love, the golden link that
joins the spirit form that has fled to the spirit that is still
enthralled on earth. Were there no earth-love, there could be no
heart-sorrow; were there no craving for loved ones gone, the soul
of man would rest forever a brother of the clod. He who has
sorrowed and not profited by his sorrow-lesson, is unfitted for
life. He who heeds best his sorrow-teacher is in closest touch with
humanity, and nearest to Etidorhpa. She who has drunk most deeply
of sorrow's cup has best fitted herself for woman's sphere in life,
and a final home of immortal bliss. I will return to thy realms,
Etidorhpa, and this silken strand of sorrow wrapped around my
heart, reaching from earth to Paradise and back to earth, will
guide at last my loved ones to the realms beyond-the home of
Etidorbpa." Rising, turning to me, and subduing his emotion,
ignoring this outburst, he said: "If time should convince you that
I have related a faithful history, if in after years you come to
learn my name ( I have been forbidden to speak it ), and are
convinced of my identity, promise me that you will do your unbidden
guest a favor." "This I will surely do; what shall it be?" "I left
a wife, a little babe, and a two-year-old child when I was taken
away, abducted in the manner that I have faithfully recorded. In my
subsequent experience I have not been able to cast them from my
memory. I know that through my error they have been lost to me, and
will be until they change to the spirit, after which we will meet
again in one of the waiting Mansions of the Great Beyond. I beg you
to ascertain, if possible, if either my children, or my children's
children live, and should they be in want, present them with a
substantial testimonial. Now, farewell." He held out his hand, I
grasped it, and as I did so, his form became indistinct, and
gradually disappeared from my gaze, thc; fingers of my hand met the
palm in vacancy, and with extended arms I stood alone in my room,
holding the mysterious manuscript, on the back of which I find
plainly engrossed: "There are more things in Heaven and Earth,
Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

EPILOGUE Letter Accompanying the Mysterious Manuscript. The
allotted thirty years have passed, and as directed, I, Llewellyn
Drury, now break the seals, and open the envelope accompanying the
mysterious package which was left in my hand, and read as follows:
Herein find the epilogue to your manuscript. Also a picture of your
unwelcome guest, I-Am-The-Man, which you are directed to have
engraved, and to use as a frontispiece to the volume. There are men
yet living to bear witness to my identity, who will need but this
picture to convince them of the authenticity of the statements in
the manuscript, as it is the face of one they knew when he was a
young man, and will recognize now that he is in age. Do not concern
yourself about the reception of the work, for you are in no wise
responsible for its statements. Interested persons, if living, will
not care to appear in public in connection therewith, and those who
grasp and appreciate, who can see the pertinence of its truths, who
can read between the lines and have the key to connected
conditions, will assuredly keep their knowledge of these facts
locked in their own bosoms, or insidiously oppose them, and by
their silence or their attacks cover from men outside the
fraternity, their connection with the unfortunate author. They dare
not speak. Revise the sentences; secure the services of an editor
if you desire, and induce another to publish the book if you shrink
from the responsibility, but in your revision do not in any way
alter the meaning of the statements made in the manuscript; have it
copied for the printer, and take no part in comments that may arise
among men concerning its reception. Those who are best informed
regarding certain portions thereof, will seemingly be least
interested in the book, and those who realize most fully these
truths, will persistently evade the endorsement of them. The
scientific enthusiast, like the fraternity to which I belong, if
appealed to, will obstruct the mind of the student either by
criticism or ridicule, for many of these revelations are not
recorded in his books. You are at liberty to give in your own
language as a prologue the history of your connection with the
author, reserving, however, if you desire to do so, your
personality, adding an introduction to the manuscript, and, as
interludes, every detail of our several conversations, and of your
experience. Introduce such illustrations as the selected artist and
yourself think proper in order to illuminate the statements. Do not
question the advisability of stating all that you know to have
occurred; write the whole truth, for although mankind will not now
accept as fact all that you and I have experienced, strange phases
of life phenomena are revealing themselves, and humanity will yet
surely be led to a higher plane. As men investigate the points of
historical interest, and the ultra-scientific phenomena broached in
this narrative, the curtain of obscurity will be drawn aside, and
evidence of the truths contained in these details will be
disclosed. Finally, you must mutilate a page of the manuscript that
you may select, and preserve the fragment intact and in secret. Do
not print another edition unless you are presented with the words
of the part that is missing. ( Signed. ) I-Am-THE-MAN. NOTE By MR.
DRURY.- Thus the letter ended. After mature consideration it has
been decided to give verbatim most of the letter, and all of the
manuscript, and to append, as a prologue, an introduction to the
manuscript, detailing exactly the record of my connection
therewith, including my arguments with Professors Chickering and
Vaughn, whom I consulted concerning the statements made to me
directly by its author. I will admit that perhaps the opening
chapter in my introduction may be such as page had been plated, it
was discovered that the conveyed meaning was exactly the reverse of
the original. Luckily the error was discovered in time to change
the verse, and leave the spirit of this fair creature unblemished.-
J. U. L. I have excised a portion to raise in the minds of some
persons a question concerning my mental responsibility, for as the
principal personage in this drama remarks: "Mankind can not now
accept as facts what I have seen."Yet I walk the streets of my
native city, a business man of recognized thoughtfulness and
sobriety, and I only relate on my own responsibility what has to my
knowledge occurred. It has never been intimated that I am mentally
irresponsible, or speculative, and even were this the case, the
material proof that I hold, and have not mentioned as yet, and may
not, concerning my relations with this remarkable being,
effectually disproves the idea of mental aberration, or spectral
delusion. Besides, many of the statements are of such a nature as
to be verified easily, or disproved by any person who may be
inclined to repeat the experiments suggested, or visit the
localities mentioned. The part of the whole production that will
seem the most improbable to the majority of persons, is that to
which I can testify from my own knowledge, as related in the first
portion and the closing chapter. This approaches necromancy,
seemingly, and yet in my opinion, as I now see the matter, such
unexplained and recondite occurrences appear unscientific, because
of the shortcomings of students of science. Occult phenomena, at
some future day, will be proved to be based on ordinary physical
conditions to be disclosed by scientific investigations [ for "All
that is is natural, and science embraces all things "], but at
present they are beyond our perception; yes, beyond our conception.
Whether I have been mesmerized, or have written in a trance,
whether I have been the subject of mental aberration, or have
faithfully given a life history to the world, whether this book is
altogether romance, or carries a vein of prophecy, whether it sets
in motion a train of wild speculations, or combines playful
arguments, science problems, and metaphysical reasonings, useful as
well as entertaining, remains for the reader to determine. So far
as I, Llewellyn Drury, am concerned, this is-

THE END.

Etidorhpa

An Excerpt from "Wasson's Literary Precursors"by Gordon Wasson.

...

An even stronger case can be made for Wells's contemporary John Uri
Lloyd, who almost certainly had personal awareness of the
psychoactivity of psilocybin-containing mushrooms. The first
publication date of his crypto-discourse on psilocybin, Etidorhpa,
is 1895, nearly sixty years before the Wassons' first trip to
Huatla.

There is ample evidence, both circumstantial and prima facie, that
Lloyd had experienced intoxication by psilocybin. Lloyd was a fin
de siecle character, both a competent pharmaceutical chemist and a
man with a passion for occult literature and speculation. According
to Neal Wilgas, author of the introduction to both later editions
of Etidorhpa (1976, 1978), Lloyd was born in West Bloomfield, New
York, on Apri119, 1849-the eldest son of a civil engineer and a
descendant of Governor John Webster of Massachusetts. His family
moved to Kentucky and then to Cincinnati. It was there, at the age
of fifteen, that John Uri Lloyd began to learn the drug trade. He
became the laboratory manager of a drug firm and later became a
partner in the company. Lloyd and his brothers published a
quarterly journal, Drugs and Medicines of North America. Later he
was to participate in the establishment of the Lloyd Library of
Botany and Pharmacy. To this day, in the.field of phytochemistry,
the preeminence of the journal Lloydia is a testament to the Lloyd
brothers' passion for pharmacology and pharmacognosy.

John Uri's brother, Curtis Gates Lloyd, is described by one source
as one of the leading fungi botanists of his time. C. G. Lloyd made
extensive collections of fungi in the Gulf states and the Deep
South; there can be little doubt that if a mushroom species such as
Stropharia cubensis was present then in those places with even a
fraction of the frequency that it is encountered today, then Curtis
Gates Lloyd would have collected and been familiar with it. Lloyd's
specimen collections deposited with the Smithsonian number several
thousands. Perhaps an examination of those collections would yield
specimens of psychoactive fungi and field notes concerning them.

In any case it seems clear that John Uri Lloyd's bizarre
hollow-earth novel Etidorhpa was for him a kind of labyrinth at
whose center he wished to place the apotheosis that he had
personally experienced in his own peregrinations in the realm of
gigantic fungi. For forty-one pages (from page 235 to page 276 in
the 1895, privately printed author's edition), Lloyd raves. He
gives us not only his encounter with the anagrammatic mother
goddess Etidorhpa (she is " Aphrodite"backward), but a theory of
time that bears the unmistakable imprint of the mushroom
philosopher. At the end of seven chapters devoted to a classic
psychopompic initiation via visionary fungi, Lloyd places a
footnote that lets the cat out of the bag:

If, in the course of experimentation, a chemist should strike upon
a com- pound that in traces only would subject his mind and drive
his pen to record such seemingly extravagant ideas as are found in
the hallucinations herein pictured, or to frame word-sentences
foreign to normal conditions, and beyond his natural ability, and
yet could he not know the end of such a drug, would it not be his
duty to bury the discovery from others, to cover from mankind the
existence of such a noxious fruit of the chemist's or
pharmaceutist's art? To sip once or twice of such a potent liquid,
and then to write lines that tell the story of its power may do no
harm to an individual on his guard, but mankind in common should
never possess such a penetrating essence. Introduce such an
intoxicant, and start it to ferment in humanity's blood, and it may
spread from soul to soul, until, before the world is advised of its
possible results, the ever increasing potency will gain such
headway as to destroy, or debase, our civilization, and even to
exterminate mankind. (1895, p. 276)

And what are the extravagant ideas and hallucinations of which John
Uri Lloyd wishes to speak? At the close of chapter 23, the hero of
Etidorhpa is told to drink the juice of "a peculiar fungus."Our
hero's guide minces no words: "He spoke the single word, 'Drink,'
and I did as directed."The following three chapters are a virtual
monologue on the methods of intoxication known to humanity
worldwide and throughout history. The horror of inebriation and
addiction is graphically depicted and reaches a climax in chapter
39, "Among the Drunkards."If these chapters are the obligatory hell
experience of nineteenth-century drug reportage, then chapter 40 is
the paradisiacal apotheosis. It is also the cli- max of the book
and contains the incident in which the hero confronts Etidorhpa.
Indeed, J. Augustus Knapp's beautiful etching of her is tipped into
this chapter. Her appearance and retinue sets off a cascade of
florid (and psychedelic) Victorian prose:

Could any man from the data of my past experiences have predicted
such a scene? Never before had the semblance of a woman appeared,
never before had an intimation been given that the gentle sex
existed in these silent chambers. Now, from the grotesque figures
and horrible cries of the former occupants of this same cavern, the
scene had changed to a conception of the beautiful and artistic,
such as a poetic spirit might evolve in an extravagant dream of
higher fairy land. I glanced above; the great hall was clothed in
brilliant colors, the bare rocks had disappeared, the dome of that
vast arch, reaching to an immeasurable height, was decorated in all
the colors of the rainbow. Flags and streamers fluttered in breezes
that also moved the garments of the angelic throng about me, but
which I could not sense.

The band of spirits or fairy forms reached the rock at my feet, but
I did not know how long a time they consumed in doing this; it may
have been a second, and it may have been an eternity .Neither did
I care. A single moment of existence such as I experienced, seemed
worth an age of any other pleasure. (1895, p. 253)

The appearance of the goddess is quickly followed by
reestablishment of the theme of suffering and terror as the hero
imagines himself lost and wandering for days in an arid wasteland,
at first tormented by the sun, later frozen by its absence. As this
hallucination fades:

The ice scene dissolved, the enveloped frozen form of myself faded
from view, the sand shrunk into nothingness, and with my natural
body, and in normal condition, I found myself back in the earth
cavern, on my knees, beside the curious inverted fungus, of which
fruit I had eaten in obedience to my guide's directions. (1895, p.
270)

At the beginning of chapter 42 the hero argues with his guide
concerning the nature of what he has just experienced. The
psychopomp speaks first:

"You ate of the narcotic fungus; you have been intoxicated."

"1 have not,"I retorted. "1 have been through your accursed caverns
and into hell beyond. I have been consumed by eternal damnation in
the journey, have experienced a heaven of delight, and also an
eternity of misery."

"Upon the contrary, the time that has passed since you drank the
liquid contents of that fungus fruit has only been that which
permitted you to fall upon your knees. You swallowed the liquor
when I handed you the shell cup; you dropped upon your knees and
then instantly awoke. See,"he said; "in corroboration of my
assertion the shell of the fungus fruit at your feet is still
dripping with the liquid you did not drink. Time has been
annihilated. Under the influence of this potent earth-bread
narcoto-intoxicant, your dream began inside of eternity; you did
not pass into it."(1895, pp. 272-273)

These passages are more than sufficient to convince the open-minded
reader that John Uri Lloyd, nineteenth-century savant, pharmacist,
occultist, and author, had discovered the consciousness-expanding
properties of psilocybin mushrooms, experienced them, and then
decided to suppress his discovery. Given Lloyd's obvious ambiguity
toward the visionary state, evinced by his diatribes against
intoxication, and his love of word play, evinced by his reversing
the letters in the name Aphrodite to create the title of his
masterpiece, I am emboldened to put forth evidence that argues that
Lloyd had a particular species of mushroom in mind, one that must
have been very familiar to his botanist brother Curtis.

Facing page 116 in the author's 1895 edition is a magnificent full
page illustration of the hero and his guide making their way
through a forest of enormous mushrooms. The caption reads "I was in
a forest of colossal fungi." While examining this illustration and
thinking about the letter reversal used to form the book's title,
it occurred to me that perhaps the clue to the identity of the
intoxicant that Lloyd was so concerned to suppress might be hidden
anagramatically in the captions of the full-page illustrations.

"If such were the case,"came the unbidden thought, "then the
following full-page illustration may have a caption that can be
manipulated to give the name of the secret source of the
intoxicant."

That illustration again shows hero and guide, this time examining
the face of a stony cliff of a crystalline mineral. The caption
reads, "Monstrous Cubical Crystals."Annagramatic manipulation is
unnecessary. Out of the caption the letter groups STRO CUB jump out
at anyone with any interest in ethnomycology .Stropharia cubensis
is the species most likely to have been known to the botanical
Lloyds!

Does this mean that the mystery has been solved? That all the
pieces neatly fall into place? Quite the contrary. Stropharia
cubensis was supposedly not named until its discovery in Cuba by
the botanist Earle in 1906. Nine years after the first publication
of Etidorhpa!

Are we dealing with an instance of prophetic vision, or an
outlandishly improbable coincidence? Or would research show that
the Lloyd brothers knew the work of Earle, knew even the name he
would eventually propose for a new species of mushroom flourishing
in the pastures of the American South and the Caribbean Islands? It
is the kind of mystery that haunts research into the world of
mycolatry, the kind of mystery that Gordon Wasson loved.

Wasson's interest in Lloyd is a matter of record, though he never,
to my knowledge, wrote about him in his books. There is a file at
the Valentina and Gordon Wasson Ethno-mycological Collection at
Harvard's Botanical Museum where Wasson saved newspaper clippings,
letters, notes, and other information for a second edition of
Mushrooms, Russia and History that never materialized. In this file
is a letter from a Mr. Bernard Lentz dated May 16,1957,
recommending that Wasson read Etidorhpa. A copy of Wasson's reply,
dated June 4,1957, is also on file. It reads in part: "I shall try
to look the matter up, when I have time. John Uri Lloyd-a well
known name."Years later, in his forward to a bookseller's catalog,
Wasson (1979) wrote the following:

There is one item in it [the catalog] that interests me especially:
Etidorpha ("Aphrodite"spelled backwards), by J. U. Lloyd, a strange
novel, or better a fantasy, first published in 1895, a novel that
Michael Horowitz (the cataloguer) rightly says was a psychoactive
mushroom tale. Where did Lloyd's ideas come from? He must have read
carefully Captain John G. Bourke's Scatalogic Rites of All Nations,
published in 1891, that immense and amazing collection of
scatological materials. Lloyd's mushrooms are clearly not Amanita
muscaria. Did he possess a copy of that rarest of all entheogenic
books, by the famous English Mycologist M. C. Cooke, The Seven
Sisters of Sleep, a book that Cooke never referred to in his later
mycological writings? Here is indeed a manual of psychoactive
drugs, published almost 120 years ago! Nor was it included in the
bibliography of his writings published on his death. How did Lloyd
hit on this mushroom fantasy? Is there latent in our society a
memory of mushroom use, long long ago, a subliminal memory that
crops out in Lloyd's tale, also in Alice in Wonderland? The
suggestive shapes and delicate changing colors of mushrooms, their
sudden appearance and disappearance, the endless diversity in their
odors, one for each species-all support a mushroom mythology that
is backed up, when one knows about it, by the compelling
entheogenic potency residing in some of them. (1979, p. 6)

Again, as with Carroll and Wells, Wasson failed to admit the
possibility that Lloyd's insights were based on personal
experience. But neither did he rule it out. The matter thus remains
to be resolved by a new generation of ethno-mycologists-or literary
archaeologists.

...

John Uri Lloyd's Secret Psychoactives Matthew J. Baggott

Who can say today when a relatively obscure fact may become
extremely valuable to a people, a continent or to the whole world.
-- John Uri Lloyd, April 29, 1929.

John Uri Lloyd, Phr.M., Ph.D. (1849-1936) was one of the most
important pharmaceutical chemists of his time. As the head of the
Lloyd Brothers pharmaceutical company in Cincinnati and in
association with the Eclectic Medical Institute, he oversaw many
developments in plant chemistry, colloidal chemistry, and drug
extraction procedures. He was among the first to study and document
the medicinal uses of native American plants, such as the echinacea
genus. His pioneering efforts in exploring America's botanical
materia medica have led many to call him "The Father of American
Materia Medica."

Lloyd's research revealed much to the world. However, it appears
that he also 'hid' some information, seemingly out of fear that it
could be misused or would harm humanity. Two different novels offer
hints that Lloyd discovered two natural psychoactives --a narcotic
plant and a psychedelic fungus-- which he failed to publicize out
of fear of the possible consequences.

The Lost Narcotic of the Shawnee Lloyd's narcotic plant is
mentioned briefly in Allan W. Eckert's historical novel The
Frontiersmen. This novel depicts a conversation between a young
girl and the great Shawnee Leader, Tecumseh. In the conversation,
Tecumseh reveals to the girl the secrets of a "strange"herb and the
fruit of particular tree. He explains that they are used by the
Shawnee as powerful analgesics, allowing them to bear great pain
during battle or torture. This conversation would be just another
page from an entertaining novel if Eckert had not based it on a
real conversation.

The real conversation took place in 1934 between a Dr. William
Galloway and an unnamed chemist from southwestern Ohio with
detailed knowledge of the phytochemistry. As Varro Tyler points out
in his fine article on the subject, John Uri Lloyd is the only
chemist who fits this description (Tyler 1992). Dr. Galloway and
Lloyd apparently echanged information about an herb and a tree,
both of which Lloyd had identified as having narcotic properties.
The herb was indigenous to large areas of the United States and had
a "peculiar capsule" from which Native Americans extracted a
pain-killing substance. The tree had berries which "had been
utilized as an [pain reliever] by one of America's pioneer
surgeons. Their activity was about one-third that of opium, and
their side effects were much less serious (Tyler 1992)."The
conversation allegedly concluded with both scientists resolving to
keep their knowledge of the plants secret.

From the distance of sixty odd years, it is difficult to separate
fact from fiction. Some elements of the story do not ring true.
Nonetheless, the specific character of the plants' descriptions
sounds convincing. Using this information, Varro E. Tyler has
advanced a convincing argument that the "peculiar herb"of this
story is Datura stramonium, also known as thorn apple or jimsonweed
(Tyler 1992). (There are several nice Datura pictures available on
the Web, including two in the Herbarium maintained by Dept. of
Biology at Texas A&M University.)

Several lines of evidence support Tyler's theory. Jimsonweed has a
distinctive 4-valved capsule, which nicely fits the "peculiar
capsule"description. It was widespread throughout early America,
including Ohio, which puts it in the right place. Although
jimsonweed's use among eastern Native Americans is not well
documented, it was used by western Native Americans for divination,
in initiation rituals, and most interestingly as an anaesthetic.
Furthermore, Jimson weed became used in American pharmacy for a
variety of ailments. In fact, Lloyd himself marketed a medicine
called "Colloidum Stramonium"which he recommended as an antidote
for opium dependency. Jimsonweed's flowers and leaves (the parts
mentioned by Lloyd) contain the psychoactive l-hyoscyamine (as well
as smaller amounts of atropine (dl-hyoscyamine), scopolamine, and
other alkaloids). l-Hyoscyamine acts primarily by blocking the
muscarinic receptors of the parasympathetic system. At moderate
doses this produces symptoms including dilated pupils, flushed
skin, increased body temperature, and dry mouth. At higher, toxic
doses, confusion and hallucinations result, followed by amnesia.
Although deaths are rare, it can take several days to recover from
a high dose of jimsonweed (Roblot et al 1993, Hanna et al 1992).

If jimsonweed really is the "peculiar herb,"it seems probable that
the berries exist as well. Admittedly, it is possible that these
mysterious berries are inactive on their own, and merely
potentiated the effects of the jimsonweed. However, the story
suggests otherwise. The berries are specifically identified as
being stronger narcotics than the herb. Unfortunately, no one has
been able to identify a tree growing in the Ohio area with narcotic
berries. For now, it remains a mystery.

Etidorhpa: the First Psychedelic Novel? John Uri Lloyd's first
novel was a strange occult story which he originally published only
for his friends. Etidorhpa ("Aphrodite"spelled backwards) describes
the adventures of a man (called "I-Am-The-Man") who must pursue
knowledge for both humanity and a secret society as punishment for
trying to reveal the society's secrets. The man's adventures occur
in a great network of caves beginning under Kentucky where he meets
a variety of supernatural creatures and gains much metaphysical
knowledge.

While the story is largely fictional, it is sprinkled with various
details of factual inspiration. The character of Llewellen Drury
describes several details from Lloyd's life. The theory of
gravitation attributed to Professor Daniel Vaughn is an accurate
description of the ideas of a Cincinnati-based friend of Lloyd. The
premise of the story is inspired by a well-publicized upstate New
York incident in which a Mr. Morgan disappeared after revealing
some secrets of the Freemasons.

In addition to these factual details, there seems to be another
real experience which inspired the central event in Lloyd's novel.
This central event takes place over the seven chapters beginning at
the end of XXXIII:

Then I stopped as I observed before me a peculiar fungus --peculiar
because unlike all others I had seen (sic). The convex part of its
bowl was below and the great head, as an inverted toadstool, stood
upright on a short, stem-like pedestal. The gills within were of a
deep green color, and curved out from the center in the form of a
spiral. This form, however, was not the most distinguishing
feature, for I had before observed specimens that were spiral in
structure. The extraordinary peculiarity was that the gills were
covered with fruit. This fruit was likewise green in color, each
spore, or berry, being from two to three inches in diameter, and
honeycombed on the surface, corrugated most beautifully. I stopped,
leaned over the edge of the great bowl, and plucked a specimen of
the fruit. It seemed to be covered with a hard, transparent shell,
and to be nearly full of a clear, green, liquid. I handled and
examined it with curiousity, at which my guide seemed not
surprised. Regarding me attentively he said:

"What is it that impels a mortal towards this fruit?"

"It is curious,"I said; "nothing more."

"As for that,"said he, "it is not curious at all; the seed of the
lobelia is more curious, because, while it is as exquisitely
corrugated, it is also microscopically small. In the second place
you err when you say it is simply curious, 'nothing more,' for no
mortal every yet passed that bowl without doing what exactly you
have done. The vein of curious, were it that alone that impels you,
could not but have an exception."

Then he cracked the shell of the fruit by striking it on the stony
floor, and carefully opened the shell, handing me one of the halves
filled with a green fluid. As he did so he spoke the single word,
"Drink,"and I did as directed. He stood upright before more, and as
I looked him in the face he seemingly, without a reason, struck off
into a dissertation, apparently as distinct from our line of
thought as a disconnected subject could be as follows...

What follows is a lecture on Intemperance and how every culture
becomes depraved through the use of intoxicants. Our hero then
leaves his guide and passes among the drunkards who attempt,
through various ruses, to get him to drink more of the green fluid.
Amidst this temptation to intemperance, our hero meets Etidorhpa,
"the Soul of Love Supreme."He promises to be true to her and resist
the intoxicating drink. In further trials and temptation, he "walks
over the boundless sands that bring misery to the soul"and, as a
statue, see "the frozen universe dissolve. Finally, our hero meets
up with his guide and the following conversation ensues:

...Before me the familiar figure of my guide stood, with folded
arms, and as my gaze fell upon him he reached out his hand and
raised me to my feet. "Where have you been during the wretched
epochs that have passed since I last saw you?"I asked.

"I have been here,"he replied, "and you have been there."

"You lie, you villainous sorceror,"I cried; "you lie again as you
have lied to me before. I followed you to the edge of demon land,
to the caverns of the drunkards, and then you deserted me. Since
last we met I have spent a million, billion years of agony
inexpressible, and have had that agony made doubly horrible by
contrast with the thought, yes, the very sight and touch of Heaven.
I passed into a double eternity, and have experienced the ecstasies
of the blessed, and suffered the torments of the damned, and now
you dare boldly tell me that I have been here, and that you have
been there, since I saw you stand by this cursed fungus bowl."

"Yes,"he said, taking no offense at my violence; "yes, neither of
us has left this spot; you have sipped of the drink of an
earth-damned drunkard, you have experienced part of the curses of
intemperance, the delerium of narcotics. Thousands of men on earth,
in their drunken hallucination, have gone through hotter hells than
you have seen; your dream has not exaggerated the sufferings of
those who sup of the delerium of intemperance."

And then he continued:

"Let me tell you of man's conception of eternity."

The guide then reveals that our hero's suffering and ecstasy all
took place instantaneously. It is, we learn, the same sort of
timeless eternity which one experiences at death. Depending on
one's life, this eternity can be one of joy or anguish. The guide
instructs our hero:

...Taste not again of any intoxicant; let your recent lesson be
your last. Any stimulant is an enemy to man, any narcotic is a
fiend. It destroys its victim, and corrupts the mind, entices it
into pastures grotesque, and even pleasant at first, but destined
to eternal misery in the end.

If it were not sufficiently clear at this point that the writer of
this novel ingested some sort of hallucinogen, John Uri Lloyd adds
a footnote which explains:

[Note.--Morphine, belladonna, hyoscyamus and cannabis indica are
narcotics, and yet each differs in its action from the other.
Alcohol and methyl alcohol are intoxicants; ether, chloroform. and
chloral are anaethetics, and yet no two are possessed of the same
qualities. Is there any good reason to doubt that combinations of
the elements as yet hidden from man can not cause hallucinations
that combine and intensify the most virulent of narcotics,
intoxicants, and anaesthetics, and pall the effects of hashish or
of opium?

If, in the course of experimentation, a chemist should strike upon
a compound that in traces only would subject his mind and drive his
pen to record such extravagant ideas as are found in the
hallucinations herein pictured, would it not be his duty to bury
the discovery from others, to cover from mankind the existence of
such a noxious fruit of the chemist's or pharmaceutist's art?
Introduce such an intoxicant, and start it to ferment in humanity's
blood, and before the world were advised of its possible results,
might not the ever increasing potency gain such headway as to
destroy, or debase our civilization, or even to exterminate
mankind?--J.U.L.]

With this footnote, Lloyd makes it abundantly clear that he has
discovered some hallucinogenic material and hidden his knowledge of
it because he fears that humanity would 'debase' itself with it.

Lloyd's brother, Curtis Gates Lloyd, was a leading mycologist and
probably would have collected samples of Stropharia cubensis or
other indigenous American hallucinogenic mushrooms. It is therefore
plausible that John Uri Lloyd discovered the psychedelic mushroom
years before the Wasson's 1955 historical participation in sacred
mushroom rituals in Oaxaca, Mexico. On the other hand, it is also
possible that Lloyd discovered some other non-fungal hallucinogen.
After all, Etidorhpa describes a green liquid from a fruit-like
spore growing on a giant mushroom. Perhaps the mushroom is a
misleading 'red herring' and Lloyd discovered some plant with
hallucinogenic fruit. Terrence McKenna (1990) has suggested that
this issue could be clarified by examining Curtis Gates' specimen
collection which currently resides at the Smithsonian Institute.
John Uri Lloyd's own notes and diary at the Lloyd Museum in
Cincinnati might also reveal evidence of experiments with
hallucinogens. Until some scholar studies these archives, we can
only enjoy Etidorhpa and speculate.

REFERENCES This article owes much to the scholarship of Varro E.
Tyler and Terrence McKenna. They uncovered many of the facts on
which I comment. In addition, biographical information on Lloyd is
drawn from Simons' biography. The photograph of John Uri Lloyd
appears courtesy of the Lloyd Library and Museum, Cincinnati, Ohio.
Other illustrations for this article are taken from Etidorhpa and
are by John Augustus Knapp.

Eckert, A.W. (1970) The Frontiersmen, Bantam Books, New York.
Hanna, JP; Schmidley, JW; Braselton, WE Jr.. (1992) "Datura
delerium"Clinical Neuropharmacology 15(2): 109-113. Lloyd, J.U.
(1896) Etidorhpa or the End of Earth, Robert Clarke, Cincinnati.
McKenna, T. (1990) "Wasson's Literary Precursors,"in The Sacred
Mushroom Seeker T.J. Riedlinger, ed., Dioscorides Press, Portland,
Oregon, p 169-172. Roblot, F; Montaz, L; Delcoustal, M; Robert, R;
Chavagnat, JJ; Morichaud, G; Scepi, M; Roblot, P; Gaboriau, E;
Patte, D. (1993) "[Datura: an easily accessible hallucinogen, a
poisoning to be evoked. Apropos of 10 cases]"Revue de Medecine
Interne 14(10): 956. In French Simons, C.M. (1972) John Uri Lloyd:
his Life and his Works, privately printed by author, Cincinnati,
Ohio. Tyler, V.E. (1992) "John Uri Lloyd and the Lost Narcotic
Plants of the Shawnee: Fact or Fiction?"Herbalgram 27: 40-42.

The Excised Portion of Etidorhpa

from the MS

"O, Science, what crimes are committed in thy name!"-- Gilbert
Highet

That same evening the lone house held two living occupants. One the
cold, calculating scientific enthusiast, the other, the innocent
little babe that, in the name of Science, had been stolen. The man
was in ecstacies, the child in terror and tears. The man rubbed his
hands in glee and murmured to himself: 'So easily accomplished. Now
I am in the way of serving scientific humanity.' The innocent held
up its little hands and sobbed 'Where is mama? Take me to mama!
mama! mama! The the man of science seized the babe as so often
before he had grasped an inanimate human limb. The delicate
garments, made by the loving mother's hands, were stripped from the
tender child as though the monster were shucking an ear of Indian
corn. If he heard its pleading cries, he gave no indication of the
fact. He placed the struggling innocent on the table, and clamped
each tiny limb into position. The head was held firmly, immovably,
by a band over the forehead, a gag was in the mouth, the babe was
motionless, it could only breathe and quiver. 'Now for its life,
the spirit of the religionist, the vital force of the scientist.
The spirit that man worships shall become the servant of science.
I must begin at the extremities first and search carefully to the
heart,' he cooly muttered. The wrapped man of science stood upright
and stroked his beautiful, glossy beard in complacent satisfaction.
He was happy. 'I will yet teach the world by my skill,' he
murmured, 'it is for the good of humanity.' He grasped his
instruments and began his feast of unpitying scientific provings.
He carved the helpless living infant slice by slice, he gave no
heed to the delicate, quivering fragments of flesh, 'Science, like
nature has no charity for individuals. The warm blood trickled over
his marble table. 'The child's flesh has the appearance of veal; it
is so tender that it does not need to be cooked. Ha, Ha,' he
laughed: 'The mother eats veal, Did man ever see a mother who was
not fond of veal? She has no mercy on the offspring of others. She
swallows the oyster alive, she eats the vitalized lucious bit while
life exists therein, Ha-Ha: it is altogether a matter of education
and my education is higher,' he sarcastically observed for my
morsel is the most precious, it would prove the sweetest --"

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---------------

Critical edition of The Excised Portion of Etidorhpa:

It seems obvious that the parchment version is copied from the
typescript. I have printed that version above, but have preserved
the changes JUL made before arriving at this version. It is obvious
he wished to preserve this macabre paragraph, but deleted it from
the book at the suggestion of Prof. Venable. By giving both
versions with his changes it is possible to gain some idea of the
way JUL worked, and the way he made changes -- something he
constantly does in all his MSS.

All handwritten additions are in brackets. Words crossed out by JUL
are struck through. Words which appear in the manuscript parchment
version (labelled MS, but not in the typescript, are in italics.
The underlined word is not cancelled in the typescript, but does
not appear in the MS.

Some remarks of my own follow the critical version.

That same evening the lone house held two living occupants. One the
cold, calculating scientific enthusiast, the other, the innocent
little babe that, in the name of Science [??] had [been] stolen.
The man was in ecstacies, the child in [terror and added in MS]
tears. The man rubbed his hands in glee and murmured to himself:
'So easily accomplished. Now I am in the way of serving
[scientific] humanity.' The [other] innocent held up its little
hands and sobbed 'Where is mama? Take me to mama! mama! mama! The
the man of science seized the babe as so often before he had
grasped an inanimate human limb. The delicate garments, made by the
loving mother's hands, were stripped from the tender child as
though [the /scientific - omitted in MS/monster] were shucking an
ear of [indian] corn. If [he] heard its [pleading] cries, he gave
no indication of the fact. He placed the struggling innocent on the
table, and clamped each [tiney (sic)] limb into position. The head
was held back firmly, [immovably] by a band over the forehead, a
gag was in the mouth, the babe was motionless, it could only
breathe and quiver. 'Now for its life, the spirit within [of the
religionist,] the vital force [of the scientist]. [The God (spirit
in the MS) that man worships shall become the servant of science.]
I must begin at the extremities first and search carefully to the
heart,' [he cooly muttered]. The (wrapped added in MS) man of
science stood upright and stroked his (beautiful, glossy added in
MS) beard in complacent satisfaction. [He was happy.] 'I will [yet]
teach the world by my science [skill],' he murmured, 'it is for the
good of humanity.' He grasped his instruments and began his feast
of unpitying scientific provings. As (omitted in MS) he carved the
helpless living infant slice by slice, from time to time he ate of
[changed to: he gave no heed to in MS] the delicate, quivering
fragments of flesh. [So science {[still] added even later} feeds on
humanities most cherished](in the MS this is replaced with:
'Science, like nature has no charity for individuals.') "The warm
blood is as gravy,"he muttered. It trickled over his glossy beard;
(in the MS he has: The warm blood trickled over his marble table.)
"the child (in the MS: the child's flesh)has the flavor of veal; it
looks like veal it is so tender that it does not need to be cooked.
Ha, Ha,' he laughed: 'The mother eats veal, [Did man ever see a
mother who was not fond of veal?] She has no mercy on the offspring
of others. She swallows the oyster alive, she eats the vitalized
[lucious] bit while life exists [therein], Ha-Ha: it is altogether
a matter of education and my education is higher,"he sarcastically
observed "for my morsel is [the most precious,] the sweetest --"

-----------------------------------------------------------------
---------------

Some Remarks on the Excised Portion of Etidorhpa

The excised portion of Etidorhpa was omitted from chapter 29:
"Beware of Biology, the Science of the Life of Man."Following in
parentheses: "The old man related a story as an object
lesson.)"Lloyd has prefixed an asterisk to the title with the note:
"The reader is invited to skip this chapter of
horrors.--J.U.L."(EA, edition 7, 1897, page 186, in edition 11 this
is chapter 51, and the excised portion is omitted from page 309
with an elipsis and with out the explanation which follows.) The
omitted portion is replaced with a bracketed insertion which reads:
It will be seen, by referring to the epilogue, that Mr. Drury
agreed to mutilate part of the book. This I have gladly done,
excising the heart-rending passages that follow. To use the words
of Prof. Venable, they do not "comport with the general delicacy of
the book."--J.U.L. (ed. 7, page 190.)

At least one writer on Etidorhpa has offered the opinion that this
portion was never actually written. As you can see it was written,
not just omitted, but its omission made a condition for the
publishing of the book. Further, Lloyd took the trouble of writing
the whole thing from the typescript onto crumpled parchment in the
terrible handwriting of I-AM-THE-MAN (which only I can read, having
once been a teacher!) He must have considered it important enough
to preserve and draw attention to, even if one had to seek the MS
which he carefully preserved among the papers of the Lloyd Library.

I think the time in which he was writing was too early to publish
the fragment, but that time has now come. The dire warning has come
to pass. We live in the days when abortion on demand and fetal
research have become a reality. And though more than half the
population of the country disagree with both things "science"has
been allowed to convince judges, law-makers, and the makers of
opinion that conception is not sacred, that life begins when
"we"say it does, and that infant life is not something to be
protected by society. At this time Lloyd would approve of
publishing this warning. It would have been more effective in 1895
when such things were very uncommon; now everyone has heard so many
horror stories they are bored with them. It is significant that,
though Lloyd did not write the portion effectively -- the whole
thing seems contrived and unreal -- he did see even then the path
down which "science"under the name of biology was tending to. I
think we should realize we have already gone down that path as far
as we can, and the next step is infanticide and (so-called)
mercy-killing. At that point whose life can be safe?

In one of his many books Professor Gilbert Highet, of Columbia
University tells the story of a scientist who destroyed the nest of
a bowerbird to see what would happen. The bird rebuilt; the man --
in the name of science -- destroyed it. This happened many times.
At last the bird began to mourn. The Professor's comment was: "O,
Science, what crimes are committed in thy name!"Many people who
would be horrified at the treatment of the animal would yawn at the
fate of the child. I predict the time when "scientists"who have
committed such crimes and advocated them will stand in the dock as
surely as any war criminal. If Eichman was culpable for directing
others to kill, a biology professor who assures others that life
begins at birth is as guilty as the actual killer of the child.
This is the meaning of the excised portion of Lloyd's book. I think
it shows the wisdom of the man to see where the "science of
life"was headed a hundred years before it got there.

A Letter about Etidorhpa by John Uri Lloyd in 1895 
[This is a typed copy of a three-page hand-written document.]

John Uri Lloyd Cincinnati. October 8th, 1895

Dear Prof Buck,

Please accept my thanks for your very kind letter. I have no
hesitancy in saying that you will see in and through this book,
much that is covered to most persons. Neither do I hesitate to say
that in bringing this book before the public I bring to myself care
and troubles that you cannot forsee and that I appreciate highly
your words of encouragement.

It matters little who recorded the words, nothing at all, the
question that concerns me is have I done my part creditably? A work
must be done well or done over again and I hope that this will not
have to be repeated by another person.

Some of us come into the world to teach, we cannot evade our
destiny. Whether we teach from our own selves or from others, is of
no moment, the important point is whether we teach properly. Will
the result of our instruction tend to elevate the thought of others
and thus lead to truth and self humility, to love and charity?

Etidorhpa is not an idle creation. The mission of this book is
unseen by most of its readers. The thought current will be felt
though by every reader and it pains me to appreciate the fact that
to some the beauties of the work will serve but to deepen their
hatred of conceptions holy and sublime. I will send Prof Crawford
a copy complimentary in your care and will be pleased to have him
read it and drop me a line. He will not agree with some portions.

You speak of taking the volume to which you subscribed. Please do
not do so from any sense of obligation. While I feel that you can
make good use of an extra copy, still, I do not want you to pay for
a book simply because you sent in a subscription.

Today, or tomorrow, all the books for Cincinnati or vicinity will
be delivered.

Very Sincerely Yours 
John Uri Lloyd