3 1822 01146 1159 
 
 STEPHEN K. SZYMANOWSKi
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 earcfters 
 
 BY 
 
 STEPHEN K. SZYMANOWSK1 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 Homo sum nihilque humani alienum me esse puto" 
 
 SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA PRINTING CO., PUBLISHERS 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 1908
 
 Copyright, 1908 
 by Stephen K. Szymanowiki 
 
 Al! rights reserved 
 
 iv
 
 THE CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PERPLEXITIES OF A YOUNG LAWYER . . I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE . . . .1.3 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE EBELL 44 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME 56 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING . gi 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MORE SCIENTIFIC PROBLEMS 129 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION . . . 1 68 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FIRST MEETING 194 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY 2OiS
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL .... 226 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD 250 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE READING OE THE DOCUMENT 270 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 EPILOGUE 294 
 
 vi
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 I. WESTLAKE PARK AS SEEN FROM MR. MILTON S HOUSE. 
 
 2. SHAKESPEARE CUFF, ON WHICH IS FOUND THE PRO 
 
 FILE OF THE ENGLISH PLAY WRITER. 
 
 3. EBELL CLUB HOUSE ON FIGUEROA STREET. 
 
 4. TALLAC MOUNTAIN VIEWED FROM LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 5. ADAMS STREET. 
 
 6. MISS VIRGINIA IN HER EIGHTEENTH YEAR. 
 
 7. ONE OF THE SEVERAL OSTRICH FARMS IN THE VICIN 
 
 ITY OF LOS ANGELES. 
 
 8. MOUNT LOWE. 
 
 9. RUBIO CANYON. 
 
 vii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The scientific arguments advanced in this volume are 
 strictly in conformity with the authoritative sources of 
 modern science. 
 
 In the seventh chapter I have taken the liberty of using 
 freely the exceedingly valuable views of the great French 
 philosopher, Camille Flammarion, whose authority on 
 matters pertaining to scientific researches unquestionably 
 stands amongst the highest. 
 
 STEPHEN K. SZYMANOWSKI. 
 
 Los Angeles, California. 
 April 1 5th, 1908. 
 
 ix
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PERPLEXITIES OF A YOUNG LAWYER. 
 
 Mr. Milton was sitting in the library of his home, sit 
 uated on the prominently elevated grounds facing the 
 beautiful landscape of West Lake Park, in the city of 
 Los Angeles. He evidently was deeply interested in his 
 reading, for he had on his desk a big pile of papers 
 which he was perusing with unusual avidity. To an ob 
 server, his face was an expression of amazement and sur 
 prise. He had brought these papers home, in order to 
 give to the matter a special and careful attention; for 
 this was a very extraordinary case for him indeed. He 
 had to defend a young girl who had committed forgery. 
 She had succeeded in passing forged checks, and had col 
 lected money from several banking houses in the city ; 
 but owing to her lack of experience, she did not succeed 
 in keeping herself out of the clutches of the law. She 
 was suspected, and after a sufficient amount of evidence 
 was gathered by the detectives, she was brought before 
 the justice and kept in custody awaiting her trial. The 
 main thing that greatly disturbed this young lawyer was 
 his inability to find a ground for the defence. There 
 was no indication of erratic abnormality in the character 
 of the girl, and he could not admit the possibility of in-
 
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 tentional malice. At the time of the arrest of the sup 
 posed culprit, the newspapers spoke of her as of an un 
 usual phenomenon. They had discovered that she was 
 known to be a personification of modesty and domestic 
 virtues. Besides, she was a zealous Sunday school 
 teacher, and as such very much admired for her Christian 
 qualities by those who knew her; so much so, that even 
 after the above described fact was known to them, they 
 could not say enough good things in her favor; and what 
 was more striking, there was no evident reason for com 
 mitting this forgery except that she was poor and in 
 need of money as any other girl would be under such 
 circumstances. But this girl was not like any other. Ac 
 cording to Mr. Milton s conclusions, many other girls 
 could possibly commit a similar forgery, but he could 
 not admit for one moment that this particular girl could 
 db such a thing. This conclusion was based on a care 
 ful study of the life and habits of the girl ; and yet he 
 had to acknowledge the fact that the forgery was actually 
 committed by the very person he thought unable to do 
 such a thing; and of course there was a cause for it. 
 Now the problem before him was to find that cause and 
 when such a thing was found, to define whether it was 
 intentional or compulsive in any shape or manner. If in 
 tentional, it would necessarily follow that there was 
 "knowledge," and "will" preceding the committed act ; 
 but this seemed to Mr. Milton an absurd admission; for 
 there was no indication to that effect. If on the other hand 
 the cause was compulsive, the nature of it must be well 
 studied and well pondered in order to see in what degree 
 the girl could be held responsible for the act committed 
 under the pressure of compulsion.
 
 THE PERPLEXITIES OF A YOUNG LAWYER. 
 
 There were two important reasons that made Mr. 
 Milton take such a great interest in the matter; one was 
 the case itself representing a great study in matters 
 human, and the other the fact that he was appointed by 
 the Court to defend the girl, who being poor could not 
 afford to engage a lawyer. The Court possibly could 
 not have acted in this case more wisely. By appointing 
 Mr. Milton, it had selected a man who was widely known 
 for his great ability in handling the most complicated 
 cases. Though young, being but thirty-six years of age, 
 Mr. Milton had very often displayed a great deal of re 
 fined ingenuity in practicing his profession. This un 
 doubtedly was in a great measure due to his careful 
 training in the science of jurisprudence, which he unceas 
 ingly cultivated with untiring persistency; and partly also 
 to his mind, strongly gifted with a powerful analytical 
 ability. 
 
 The construction of jurisprudence greatly resembles 
 that of any machinery destined to perform a certain de 
 sired act. That machinery must be necessarily from 
 time to time brought to a certain perfection in order 
 to meet the requirements of the time and material. Con 
 sidering the above, we can easily perceive that in both 
 cases in machinery as well as in making and applying 
 laws, we need men, and usually we have them, who make 
 it their business to inquire as to why, what-for, wherefore- 
 and ordinarily they succeed in finding some solution of 
 the case and thus unravel the task on hand. These are 
 men gifted with analytical power, and to this class Mr. 
 Milton belonged. 
 
 Besides, Mr. Milton s early education and especially 
 his home training had most assuredly a great deal to do 
 with the development of his manhood.
 
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 As a general rule we are apt to believe that children 
 represent a counterpart of their parents, inasmuch as 
 they follow them in their occupation and mode of life. 
 This belief is based on the fact that we see many living 
 pictures exemplifying the above assertion; but we also 
 often see that a herdsman s son does not always follow 
 the trade of his father, for many of them are known 
 who have become very prominent in different branches 
 of science. This was exactly the case with Mr. Milton. 
 He did not follow his father s occupation. 
 
 His father, Oscar Milton, was a banker by inclination. 
 Originally he had studied medicine, intending to devote 
 his time entirely to this branch of activity; but shortly 
 after he had started his practice in his native city of 
 New York, he discovered that he was not adapted for 
 his chosen profession, and following his personal inclina 
 tion he readily entered the arena of speculation. There 
 he met with such great success, that his ^Esculapian dig 
 nity faded at once and disappeared forever, and event 
 ually Mr. Oscar Milton crystallized his activity into the 
 shape of a practical banker. 
 
 It was not necessarily due to this transformation of a 
 doctor into a banker, that his family affairs were a series 
 of happy experiences. He married a very charming and 
 intelligent lady, whose special merit consisted in the fact 
 that she knew and understood perfectly well her position 
 of a wife and that of a mother, and acted accordingly. 
 This brought a wholesome atmosphere into the home life 
 of Mr. Oscar Milton, and shortly the crowning culmina 
 tion came, when a healthy nine pound boy made his ap 
 pearance and created a turbulent joy in the young and 
 loving couple. He was destined to be the only com-
 
 THE PERPLEXITIES OF A YOUNG LAWYER. 
 
 mander in the family. Both father and mother idolized 
 this only son, and they thought and firmly believed that 
 this was the prettiest little chap in the whole Universe. 
 When time came for his education, they spared nothing 
 in educating the little master. Mrs. Milton being quite 
 familiar with the principles of modern pedagogy and in 
 spired by her motherly love, adopted a happy system for 
 the education of her son, and she succeeded wonderfully 
 well in building up a durable foundation in the heart of 
 the little one by persistently cultivating in him principles 
 of kindness and love for all; for she loudly professed that 
 without love and kindness there was little hope for other 
 virtues; and this was indeed a great factor for the up 
 building of the coming man. Thus, the loving mother 
 and intelligent woman built the foundation, and the father 
 and banker furnished the rest, and thus, little James grew 
 in opulence of ethical culture and knowledge. 
 
 \Vhen he had graduated from the school in his native 
 city of New York, and the time came to select a specific 
 line of higher studies, he entered Yale University as a 
 student of law, which he absorbed with the power and 
 ability of a well developed young man of two and twenty. 
 His graduation and subsequent admission to the bar was 
 another and entirely new source of joy for the banker 
 Oscar Milton and his wife Emily Milton nee Holmes. 
 But James Milton did not think he had acquired all the 
 wisdom, for he had discovered that he had a great in 
 clination for the study of philology, and with the ap 
 proval and consent of both his parents, he established him 
 self in Paris, France, as a student of Oriental or Semitic 
 languages in the old university of Sorbonne. 
 
 It was while this young American lawyer and linguist
 
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 was monopolizing the admiration of both fellow students 
 and his professor, Monsieur Ferrier, for the extraordi 
 nary abilities he had displayed in acquiring those partly 
 dead languages, that unexpectedly he received a cable 
 gram from his mother stating that his father was danger 
 ously ill and that his presence in New York was desired. 
 The first steamer leaving the shore of France brought 
 young James to his native country; and when his coach 
 man made his appearance on the pier of New York 
 harbor all alone to meet him, he easily divined that there 
 was something wrong at home. Shortly he faced his 
 mother in deep mourning, and kissing her hand reverent 
 ly, and covering it with warm tears, escorted her to the 
 same carriage that had brought him home, and accord 
 ing to her wishes they drove to the cemetery. Here on 
 the freshly covered grave knelt mother and son hardly 
 able to pronounce a word, for tears were the only thing 
 that could give expression to their untold grief. A few 
 days after this pathetic scene, Mrs. Milton became ill, 
 and in a few more days it was necessary that she should 
 be removed out of the city where she was born and had 
 spent all the happy days of her life. Several months 
 elapsed in anxiety and hope and finally, when Mrs. Mil 
 ton felt a little stronger, she expressed her wishes to be 
 taken away to some new place, that she might no longer 
 see the house and things that would remind her of her 
 beloved husband. , 
 
 James Milton was an ideal son. His devotion to his 
 mother had no limits; his justified veneration for her 
 was an object of admiration to all who knew him. After 
 a short conference between the mother and the son, 
 whose filial affection became such a great source of con-
 
 THE PERPLEXITIES OF A YOUNG LAWYER. 
 
 solation to the mother, it was decided that they would 
 remove to Chicago. But after a reasonable trial in that 
 city, Mrs. Milton discovered, that this was not the place 
 where she could peacefully live, and they removed to 
 San Francisco; and finally going on a short visit to Los 
 Angeles, so strongly was Mrs. Milton impressed with 
 the mildness of the climate, and especially with the neat 
 and attractive appearance of the city, that she emphatic 
 ally declared Chicago and San Francisco were both very 
 windy places, and concluded that Los Angeles was the 
 only city where she could live, and consequently a firm 
 decision was reached that she would spend the rest of 
 her life right here in this city of flowers and eternal 
 spring. This favorable opinion of Mrs. Milton about 
 her new home, was corroborated later on by another 
 much stronger statement. After she had for some time 
 enjoyed the beauties surrounding her new home, she 
 told confidentially one of her intimate lady friends, that 
 she thought it was a great mistake of some modern 
 archaeologists who were trying to discover some traces 
 of the terrestrial paradise somewhere near Babylon, or 
 Bagdad, as it is called in our days; for in her estimation 
 the missed garden was right here in Southern California, 
 where the city of Los Angeles flourishes now; and this 
 is how we find Mrs. Milton and her son, the young law 
 yer, located in Los Angeles. 
 
 A man with good qualities always will find a proper 
 recognition no matter whither he goes. With his well 
 cultured intellect, honest and upright character, Mr. Mil 
 ton did not fail to find a host of admirers and cordial 
 friends in the city of his new home; so that at once he 
 became a lion in the circles of his society. There was
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 hardly a social function where he was not a welcome 
 guest. The many good qualities that Mr. Milton pos 
 sessed made him feel at home wherever he went. In 
 the circles of his profession he was not any the less ap 
 preciated. It is true that the paths of life are not always 
 smooth; here and there one is forced to face jealousy 
 and envy, which are characteristic features of small 
 minds; but Mr. Milton was too big-hearted and broad- 
 minded to notice these petty plays of undersized men, 
 whom he usually met with a good-natured smile and a 
 benevolent expression of his always sympathetic looking 
 face. 
 
 This was the man we found in the library of his home 
 engaged in reading the case on hand. He was so in 
 tensely interested in the matter that he forgot all about 
 the time and the place where he was, and not until he 
 saw a human shadow passing before him did he raise 
 his head, and directly he heard the familiar voice of his 
 mother saying; 
 
 "Here I come after you myself, James. It seems you 
 did not hear the maid calling you to lunch. I know you 
 are very much interested in this case of yours, but 
 
 "I beg your pardon, dear mother;" interrupted Mr. Mil 
 ton, "I was so busy, but I am with you immediately." 
 Saying this he threw the paper he had in hand on the 
 desk and followed his mother to the dining room. Hav 
 ing taken his usual seat opposite his mother s he con 
 tinued ; 
 
 "Yes, mother, you are not mistaken in saying that I 
 am much interested in this peculiar case; but after all, 
 it is that same old story; the more we study human 
 nature, the more we are baffled and the less w r e know
 
 THE PERPLEXITIES OF A YOUNG LAWYER. 
 
 what we think we know. Poor girl, I know she is an 
 innocent girl, but how cruel ; you know, mother, the law 
 is a barrier against all assumptions which are not pro 
 vided by the jurists. How often innocent people are 
 subjected to cruel punishments simply because the de 
 fence cannot present an argument recognized by the code 
 of practice, and 
 
 "And, I am afraid, my boy," impatiently replied Mrs. 
 Milton, "that you are going too deep into the matter. 
 You told me all about the case, and if I am not mistaken 
 it is a very simple one. The girl committed forgery, the 
 act is there, and she must suffer the consequences. This 
 story of her being a personification of modesty and do 
 mestic virtues, as the newspapers -were pleased to state 
 about her and as you say you are enabled to corroborate 
 through your investigations, it seems does not exist; for 
 if it did, there would be no crime committed. You re 
 member not long ago we had another pathetic story of 
 a young lady teacher in one of our public schools, where 
 pupils attending her class occasionally missed little coins 
 they carried with them. Several persons were implicated 
 in the case, and finally it was discovered, that it was no 
 one else but the teacher herself who was stealing the 
 money of her pupils, for she was caught in the act by the 
 school authorities, but fortunately for her, the case did 
 not reach the civil tribunal, but was ended by her dis 
 missal from the school. Now in this case naturally you 
 would think that the act was highly abnormal and im 
 possible for admission in a person of culture and refine 
 ment such as her occupation would naturally suggest; 
 yet the fact was there." 
 
 "Exactly, and that is just the point that we must
 
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 consider;" replied Mr. Milton, and contemplatively 
 added; "Were the forgery committed by a skilled man 
 or a corrupt woman, we would not be so strongly im 
 pressed; because we are accustomed to hear of these 
 crimes nearly every day. They do not interest us, be 
 cause seemingly we know of their origin and causes. 
 So with the thievery committed by the school teacher. 
 Were that money stolen by some of the pupils, or the 
 janitor of the school, or finally by some outside intruder, 
 it would be different; but as it is, there is a figure of a 
 teacher, a girl naturally modest, an educator by inclina 
 tion, a lover of learning and all things noble and lofty, 
 and, here comes the question, how in the world are we 
 to combine these contradictory principles in one person- 5 
 The solution of these questions that I am seeking is not 
 so much for the purpose of finding an excuse for the 
 culprit, as for the purpose of elucidating the principles 
 involved in those striking acts that we are trying to solve ; 
 in other words, we are asking, are these acts voluntary 
 or not? And before we can answer this question intelli 
 gently, we are bound to define what is a voluntary act; 
 is there such a thing as a voluntary act at all ?" 
 
 While Mr. Milton \vas finishing his sentence, the maid 
 appeared with a freshly made lettuce salad, and placed 
 it on the table. 
 
 Mrs. Milton noticing that her son s attention was at 
 tracted by his favorite dish, smilingly said ; 
 
 "Yes, my son, your reasoning in jurisprudence is very 
 instructive, but the salad is especially good today; the 
 maid has prepared it strictly following my recipe." 
 
 Mr. Milton could not help laughing heartily, for he 
 knew what the recipe in question was, and said ; 
 
 10
 
 THE PERPLEXITIES OF A YOUNG LAWYER. 
 
 "I am afraid, mother, your maid has great difficulties 
 in following your regulations. While I like very much a 
 good salad of your make, I cannot help sympathizing 
 with the maid who has to summon a French maid to 
 wash and dry the lettuce, a miser to pour vinegar on it; 
 a generous one to bestow the olive oil, and a candidate 
 for the insane asylum to mix it ; is not this your recipe 
 for the lettuce salad, mother?" 
 
 "Well, yes;" Mrs. Milton answered. "Undoubtedly 
 the combination of those four qualities makes a good 
 salad. I said qualities, for in this case they are. You 
 notice how circumstances alter things? But I suppose 
 you are still following your pet theory that contradictory 
 principles cannot be united in one person; yet the fact 
 is here, and the evidence of it is the salad ; it is a mixture 
 just like that one you have in your case, and the only 
 difference between the two is, that one is perfectly deli 
 cious, and the other repulsive and perfectly abominable. 
 But, by the way, to change the subject, you did not tell 
 me whether you have decided to follow my wishes in re 
 gard to your vacation. I have told you, that you need 
 a little rest ; for you have been working very hard lately, 
 and you must go away for a week or two. As for my 
 self, I cannot possibly go. I do not feel its necessity, and 
 besides I am perfectly happy right here at home. It is 
 you who need the rest, and I hope you will take it." 
 
 "Yes, dear mother;" interrupted Mr. Milton, "I will 
 do what you say; but still I have been hoping that you 
 would go along with me; for you know well, mother, 
 there is nothing that makes me so happy as your presence, 
 and besides, as you know very little about the northern 
 part of the state, I thought you would be pleased to see 
 
 11
 
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 some portions of it, and this thought made me linger 
 until now. However, if you say that you will not go, 
 I will not insist any more upon your going, and will go 
 alone as soon as I am able to arrange matters on hand in 
 a satisfactory manner, so as to enable me to enjoy my 
 trip;" and saying this Mr. Milton entered his library to 
 continue his work. 
 
 12
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE.(*) 
 
 Among mountain lakes, undoubtedly Lake Tahoe holds 
 tirst place, being considered the largest mountain lake 
 in the world. Situated as it is over sixty-two hundred 
 feet above the sea level, with its unusually clear waters, 
 forming more or less an oval shape, and surrounded by 
 the beautiful chain of Sierra Nevada mountains, the 
 Lake represents a most charming picture. On the 
 southern side, proudly rises with its snow-capped head, 
 the surperb Tallac mountain, reaching an altitude of 
 nearly ten thousand feet. When we add to this delight 
 ful location, its extremely varied flora in full bloom, with 
 its strongly colored w 7 ild flow r ers, and the rich thickly 
 grown centennial pine trees, we can conceive an approxi 
 mate idea of the place. It is a ravishing summer resort, 
 and as such is much patronized by the people of both 
 neighboring states on the boundary of which the Lake 
 is situated. On the east side the state of Nevada, and 
 on the west that of California have marked their line 
 almost in the center of the Lake. But this state line 
 which divides the \vaters exists only on the geographical 
 maps, for the inhabitants of the Lake, principally well 
 developed trout, are not aware of this line. Owing to 
 
 (*) Tahoe is a Washoe Indian word, and means "great wa 
 ters." 
 
 13
 
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 the effective work accomplished by the state fisheries 
 established on the shores, they are to be found in abun 
 dance wherever you look for them all around the Lake, 
 and this is one of the greatest attractions for visitors. 
 But when you combine fishing with boating and moun 
 tain climbing, the attractions of the place become irre 
 sistible. It is easy to guess that for the accommodation 
 of the visitors there are a good many hostelries, cottages 
 and camping tents around the Lake, amongst which the 
 Tavern on the north end, and the Tallac House on the 
 south end of the Lake are most prominent. The latter, 
 owing to its location, and being in the proximity of Tal 
 lac Mountain, which is surrounded by a number of 
 smaller lakes, is the place which mostly attracts the at 
 tention of all those who can see the beauty in simple 
 things and admire it a quality not so frequent amongst 
 tourists. 
 
 Thus, owing to the attractions of the place, one after 
 noon in the second half of July, on the red painted wide 
 porch of the Tallac House, we find a picturesque crowd 
 scattered around in different sized groups. Judging from 
 their animated conversations we cannot fail to notice the 
 fact that these southerners, most of them inhabitants of 
 the City of the Angels although these were not exactly 
 angels are representing- a very enthusiastic class of peo 
 ple. They are enjoying immensely their presence on the 
 shores of the Lake, carefully planning how to spend the 
 afternoon hours and arranging for the next day s ex 
 cursions. 
 
 While all these people are engaged in their little af 
 fairs, a peculiarly sweet sound of music is diffusing its 
 sympathetic tones from the near-by hall. Some one is 
 
 14
 
 ON THE SHORES OP LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 playing a strange piece on the piano. The passages are 
 in minor tones; they are well defined and well expressed. 
 It seems like a song of a broken-hearted muse. No one 
 appears to be paying any attention to it. Suddenly a 
 gentleman, who up to this time was sitting alone in a 
 meditative mood at one end of the porch, rises and slowly 
 directs his steps to the place where the strange music 
 is produced. 
 
 From the moment he heard the music, he could not 
 keep in his chair. When the opening passages reached 
 his ear, he thought he knew the piece, and gradually he 
 was able to recognize it as the fifth polonaise of Oginski, 
 known as "Les Adieux." He instantly recollected that 
 he had heard this in a foreign land and never in America. 
 Yes, it was in Paris, while he was attending the uni 
 versity there he used to listen to this music, played by one 
 particular friend of his; but, is it possible? Can it be 
 that this is produced by the same person? Oh no, surely 
 this is an illusion; but, why not verify it? Thus think 
 ing, he entered the hall. There he found a middle-aged 
 gentleman just ending his finale. The new comer could 
 not see the face of the one who was playing, but his well- 
 shaped figure seemed somewhat familiar to him. He 
 patiently waited until the last minor stroke had vanished 
 in the air, when suddenly the gentleman arose and turned 
 his face towards the main door. At this moment the 
 new comer swiftly advanced and faced him before he 
 had time to leave the hall. They looked at each other 
 attentively and in a few seconds both faces expressed a 
 surprise mixed with delight, and as though by an in 
 visible force their hands joined in silence. 
 
 "Well, well, Count! is it possible? Is this a dream or 
 a vision?" said the younger man. 
 
 15
 
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 "Neither one nor the other," replied the interlocutor 
 smiling. "It is a very pleasant reality. I recognize you, 
 my dear Mr. Milton, and to tell you the truth, it is a 
 wonder to me that after so many years of separation you 
 should remember me." 
 
 "I recognized you the moment I heard the first few 
 phrases of your favorite polonaise," replied Mr. Milton. 
 "You have given to that piece of music so much of your 
 personality that I would recognize your production of 
 it amongst thousands of players. But after all is it not 
 charming to see you again, my dear Count Morat, and 
 see you here in the far west of the United States ! This 
 is a perfectly delightful surprise for me, but pray," he 
 continued, "let us go to the Casino, where we can find 
 a secluded corner for ourselves ;" saying this the two 
 men walked together to the building mentioned, located 
 a short distance from the hostelry. 
 
 The Casino, a very comfortable building for all sorts 
 of amusements, is located right on the shore, having 
 Lake Tahoe in full view. Its wide and very comfortable 
 porch was deserted at this moment. The two old friends, 
 with gladness in their hearts, each took a rocker and soon 
 they were seated in a cosy corner of the porch. 
 
 "And now," impatiently began Mr. Milton, whom we 
 already know, "tell me, Count; tell me all about your 
 self," he went on, and made a gesture as though he in 
 tended to learn all he wanted in a second. But the Count, 
 with his usual calmness, smiled pleasantly and said; 
 
 "After all, my dear friend, you see the world is not so 
 big as one might think; and yet, while in Paris, who of 
 us would have thought of such a meeting as this ?" Then 
 the Count went on telling his listener about his recent 
 
 16
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 travels and experiences while touring around the world. 
 
 Mr. Milton was absorbed in listening- to the Count, 
 who being an excellent conversationalist and possessing 
 a style of his own in narrating his experiences, never 
 failed to captivate his hearers. However, Mr. Milton s 
 interest was not due solely to the rhetorical ability of the 
 Count. He was interested for reasons of more impor 
 tance than this. The Count was to him a very excep 
 tional man, and to say the least a very mysterious one. 
 
 Mr. Milton had met and become acquainted with the 
 Count in Paris, and the mutual attraction was so strong 
 that in a comparatively short time they became good 
 friends. The more Mr. Milton saw of the Count, the 
 better he liked and admired him. In the first place Mr. 
 Milton was strongly impressed with the deep erudition 
 and versatility of the Count; besides he had discovered 
 in him a perfect master of the subject he was at that 
 time studying at the university. He had learned to his 
 great satisfaction that the Count had spent many years 
 in the orient studying the languages and customs of the 
 inhabitants of the cradle of Christianity. This subject 
 was immensely interesting to Mr. Milton, and noticing 
 a willingness on the part of the Count to be freely ex 
 ploited, he did not fail to take advantage of the offered 
 opportunity, and gladly became a daily visitor to the 
 Count s apartments located on the avenue Friedland 
 near the Arc de Triomphe. Here in a room splendidly 
 furnished in an entirely oriental fashion, Mr. Milton 
 found himself in an atmosphere altogether foreign to 
 Parisian life. This illusion became more forcible upon 
 the appearance of the manservant of the Count dressed 
 in his native picturesque garments; for Yonan was a 
 
 17
 
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 native Chaldean, who had entered the service of the 
 Count while the latter was traveling in his country. 
 Judging from what Mr. Milton saw, this manservant, 
 Yonan, was quite indispensable to the Count, and prob 
 ably owing to this fact, whether he was wanted or not, 
 he was always present busying himself around the room 
 in an attitude indicating that he was there in his place. 
 
 The Count noticing Mr. Milton s surprise on that ac 
 count, once said to him; 
 
 "Do not be surprised, Mr. Milton, that my servant is 
 present whenever I am here. This is an oriental custom 
 of a servant who through many years of faithful service 
 has acquired that privilege and has become as though a 
 member of my household. However," he added, "Yonan 
 does not know much of the languages we are employ 
 ing," (they spoke English and sometimes French), "so 
 there is no danger of his understanding what we say." 
 
 But this did not annoy Mr. Milton at all; on the con 
 trary, he was glad to see this Chaldean there, for this af 
 forded him a good opportunity to hear the Chaldean 
 language spoken, when there was something said between 
 the Count and his servant. It was a much better lesson, 
 he thought, than the one he had to listen to in the Sor- 
 bonne University, where, as we already know, at that 
 time Mr. Milton was attending a course of philological 
 studies, consisting of Chaldean, Syrian, and Hebrew 
 literatures. But great was his surprise to discover that 
 notwithstanding his studies of Chaldean, he could not 
 understand a word of what was said between the Count 
 and his servant. This however was explained fry the 
 Count saying that the Chaldean he spoke to his servant, 
 was the modern Chaldean language as it is spoken by 
 the Chaldean people of today; which is quite a different 
 
 18
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 language from the old Chaldean and has no literature; 
 in other words Chaldeans of today use the modern lan 
 guage in speaking and the ancient in writing. 
 
 In discussing this subject of Chaldeans, it was quite 
 natural for Mr. Milton to ask the Count the causes which 
 made him take so much interest in the Chaldean people 
 and their language, and finally to go so far as to choose 
 for his confidential servant one belonging to that race. 
 
 To this query the Count gave a short narrative con 
 sisting of the fact that while he was a young man, he 
 was obliged to follow his elder brother, who being 
 interested in the newly originated scheme of a railroad 
 to be built from Constantinople through Mesopotamia to 
 Bagdad, in Asiatic Turkey, in order to see the country 
 and investigate the feasibility of the scheme, had gone 
 there, taking with him his wife and only child; and fin 
 ally owing to the lamented sudden death of his brother, 
 he was obliged to stay in that country longer than he had 
 anticipated. But gradually this biblical country and its 
 inhabitants became a subject of great interest to him. 
 Owing to this fact, he left the city of Mosul, located on 
 the banks of the river Tigris, where old Nineveh used 
 to be and where he had been living sometime, and located 
 in a large village known by the name of Alkosh, the 
 metropolis of the Chaldean nation. This he did for 
 several reasons; one was that he wished to be away from 
 the mixture of city elements consisting of Arabs, Os- 
 manlies and half a dozen others. Secondly, he wanted 
 to hear nothing but the best Chaldean language, and as 
 Alkosh was considered to be the Athens of Chaldeans, 
 he established himself there; where in a comparatively 
 short time he learned the modern language spoken by 
 
 19
 
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 the Chaldeans and devoted himself to the study of the 
 old Chaldean, expecting to derive great benefit from this 
 quite ancient literature. Besides, knowing that the Chal 
 deans of olden times were somewhat proficient in the 
 science of Astronomy, he expected to make some im 
 portant discovery in that branch of science. But alas, 
 after several years of diligent study, great was his disap 
 pointment when he found that there was nothing so in 
 teresting in the Chaldean literature. He traversed several 
 times the great distance between the city of Mosul and 
 Van, inhabited by the Chaldean people. In the Hak- 
 karyan mountains, south of Van, where Chaldeans of 
 Nestorian faith are located, he found a good many liter 
 ary treasures hidden in the dark corners of their gloomy 
 churches, consisting of voluminous books written on 
 parchment by the hands of the monks during many cen 
 turies. Amongst others in the province of Baz he found 
 a book written presumably in the ninth century of our 
 era. In examining all he had found there or in any other 
 part of Chaklea, he invariably met with the fact that the 
 contents of these books were of a religious nature, princi 
 pally consisting of ritualistic prayers for every day in the 
 year. Besides he had found a good many containing 
 the stories of monastic life. Visions, traditions, and as 
 trological sayings were in abundance. The science of as 
 tronomy he found to be in the same condition it was 
 about two thousand years ago. A well known book by 
 the name "Mukamat," written by the Bishop of Nessebin, 
 aimed to represent the richness of Chaldean language and 
 its elasticity for expressions in rhythmical constructions. 
 Adding to these a large number of lives of saints, the 
 whole literature came to an end, so that for one who was 
 
 20
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOK. 
 
 searching for something representing scientific value, 
 there was nothing interesting nor attractive in that old 
 field of letters. 
 
 As for the Chaldean people the Count had found them 
 in extreme ignorance of the most elementary things. 
 The only ones who could read and write were the clergy ; 
 but even they often times were not any better informed 
 than the lay people, for they knew simply how to read, 
 but most of the time were not able to understand what 
 they did read, for as we already know their books are 
 written in the ancient Chaldean language and that lan 
 guage is known only to a few scholars. 
 
 Relating the above to Mr. Milton, the Count added 
 that after he had learned the Chaldean language he read 
 the Bible in that tongue from beginning to end, for the 
 first time, and what mostly impressed him was the fact 
 that the Bible represented an exact picture of the life 
 he was leading amongst Chaldeans. There was no neces 
 sity for any explanation. There were no hebraisms nor 
 orientalisms for him. He read about things just as he 
 saw them in life, and concluded by saying, that if one 
 wished to see the Bible enacted in life, he could easily 
 witness it by living for some time amongst Chaldeans; 
 for nowhere, and by no nation are biblical characters pre 
 served so well, as they are found today amongst them. 
 No wonder! Was not the original Bible written in the 
 Chaldean language? 
 
 As to his servant, the Count said that Yonan had been 
 in the service of his elder brother, and for this reason 
 he had retained him in his own; besides, he had found 
 him a good and reliable man and that was quite suffi 
 cient reason for keeping him in his household. 
 
 21
 
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 The above narrative aroused great curiosity in Mr. 
 Milton s mind, and gradually he became more and more 
 aggressive with his inquiries in regard to the life and 
 customs of that biblical country. 
 
 The Count was perfectly amazed at the intensity with 
 which Mr. Milton followed him in discussing these mat 
 ters. He could not see what caused this young American 
 lawyer to take such an interest in the antiquities of Chal 
 deans. But this was cleared up by the explanation volun 
 tarily given by Mr. Milton. He said that while he was 
 studying the law formulated by American jurisprudence, 
 his mind incessantly ran into the analysis of the origin 
 and formation of all laws governing mankind. The 
 "why" which sprung up at every new principle he was 
 learning in the law, mercilessly tortured him, until he 
 had found some explanation which seemed to him satis 
 factory. In order to proceed intelligently he had classi 
 fied the origin of laws in general, and easily found that 
 there were two evident sources from which these laws 
 were derived. One was the so-called civil law, originated 
 and regulated by the necessity of human life; and the 
 other was the so-called divine law, having its origin in 
 the revelation promulgated in dark ages and regulated 
 by the explanatory codes of different creeds. As for the 
 civil law, he had no difficulty in finding its origin as well 
 as the causes for its interpretations and consequent altera 
 tions. It was a human institution, for human purposes. 
 But when he came to the origin of the so-called divine 
 law, he invariably found himself in an obscurity beyond 
 his understanding; for analyzing its workings at the 
 hands of men, he came face to face with endless contra 
 dictions. The divine law commandeth that there should 
 
 22
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 be no killing; it said "Thou shalt not kill," and yet those 
 who preached this divine precept, when a given opportun 
 ity occured, did not hesitate to step forward with en 
 couraging words against this divine law, and with highly 
 demonstrative ceremonies they blessed the colors of a 
 certain regiment, imploring the Almighty God that 
 same God who said "Thou shalt not kill" to grant and 
 bestow upon that regiment a great victory ; and this vic 
 tory had to come only through the killing by thousands 
 and hundreds of thousands of mankind ; and when the 
 regiment though decimated had returned to the place 
 where their flag was blessed, their victory was announced 
 with high sounding trumpets, the big bells of all the 
 churches were joyously tolled and a solemn "Te Deum 
 laudamus," was sung. They thanked God for helping 
 them to do all the killing they could. 
 
 Here the young enthusiast stopped as though to see 
 whether he had said correctly what he wished to say, and 
 then continued ; 
 
 " Thou shalt not kill has been preached for centuries ; 
 and yet, those who so preached, established themselves 
 at the head of a horrid institution, whose business was 
 to torture mercilessly, and finally to put to death those 
 who did not believe the way the preachers were believ 
 ing. Again we read," he went on, "and incessantly hear 
 from Christian pulpits that God created man in his own 
 image; and that All man possesseth cometh from God, 
 and yet, when man followed his born-in-him inclinations, 
 he was told that he would be punished for doing so. We 
 hear of the immutable and eternal laws, and yet when 
 we look into the workings of those laws at the hands 
 of men who claim to be the dispensators of all godly 
 
 23
 
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 justice, we find them as mutable and as changeable as 
 men themselves are. When I picture before my eyes," 
 Mr. Milton went on, "the atrocities and barbarisms com 
 mitted by those preaching charity and forgiveness ; when 
 I go back into the history of nations and witness the ap 
 palling misdoings in the name of God and his church ; 
 when I see the creation of the institutions such as the 
 Knights of the Cross, who by fire and sword undertook 
 to accomplish the conversion of nations; when I gaze at 
 the indescribable sufferings of hundreds and thousands 
 of speechless children and their prostituted mothers, 
 whose fathers and husbands became victims of a horde 
 of savages covered with the white cross on their backs , 
 I am horrified; and am horrified, because these things 
 have been done, to use the identical language of the an 
 cients, To glorify the name of the Great God. 
 
 These and similar meditations concluded Mr. Milton 
 caused him to conceive the idea of studying oriental 
 languages; for he thought by diligently studying them 
 perhaps he could get a better understanding of those 
 laws which first were formulated and written by the 
 orientals, who unquestionably are the authors of the laws 
 now claimed by the Christian churches as their own. 
 
 Listening attentively to what Mr. Milton had said, 
 the Count felt immeasurably happy in making this new 
 discovery in the young American lawyer. Not that 
 he thought Mr. Milton had found the philosophers stone 
 by this sort of peroration, but he could not avoid observ 
 ing the fact that Mr. Milton was on his way to re 
 searches, and that eventually he would in due time be 
 come a successful explorer of the truths dictated by the 
 Universe itself. Needless to say, from that time on he 
 
 24
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 gladly offered Mr. Milton all he could from the accumu 
 lated knowledge and experiences at his command. This 
 discovery of Mr. Milton s analytical mind became a 
 source of the intense admiration which the Count had 
 conceived for him, and which he could not conceal, and 
 consequently both men felt mutually attracted more than 
 ever before. 
 
 Besides this mental affinity which existed between the 
 two men, Mr. Milton s interest in the Count was aroused 
 to the highest pitch by the following incident : 
 
 One afternoon Mr. Milton went to visit the Count, and 
 as usual the Chaldean met him at the door. Mr. Milton 
 had learned how to salute the Chaldean in his own lan 
 guage, and said; "Shlama loch," which means "peace 
 with thee," and the Chaldean responded by saying the 
 customary "Bsheyna beshlama," and opened the door to 
 the private room of the Count, telling him mostly by 
 gesticulation, that the Count was for trie moment en 
 gaged, but that he would be there directly. Mr. Milton 
 understood what he was told, and feeling somewhat 
 nervous, instead of taking a seat as he was asked 
 to, began to walk to and fro in the room. This room 
 was furnished very scrupulously in French style and 
 served as a working room for the Count. There was a 
 modern desk near the window and only two but very 
 comfortable chairs stood near by. On the walls there 
 were pictures of the times of the second empire. In the 
 middle of the room stood a round table on which he 
 found a large sized package of letters, evidently recently 
 brought from the Post, for they were still unopened. 
 On the top of this package there was a big envelope, on 
 which he could not help noticing the writing in large let- 
 
 25
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 ters which read; "A Son Altesse," and then he saw the 
 name "Morat." Seeing this he began to think, what 
 could be the meaning of this. He well knew that a Count 
 is never addressed "Son Altesse" his highness for this 
 title was accorded only to Princes, and his host was but a 
 Count. This little discovery mystified Mr. Milton very 
 much, and he began to speculate, and finally he made up 
 his mind that he would ask the Count about it. But 
 then he thought how could he ask the Count such a ques 
 tion? Would it be proper to ask the Count whether he 
 was a Count or a Prince? Oh no, this was ridiculous; 
 and finally he concluded that such a question was alto 
 gether out of place, and that by established etiquette he 
 was expected to be satisfied with what he knew about the 
 Count. And yet he could not stop the train of his 
 thoughts. He looked around the room as though search 
 ing for some object which would give him some indica 
 tion as to the identity of his mysterious host, but lo, 
 there was nothing to help him in his researches. He 
 knew that the Count was not a native of France, al 
 though judging from the perfect French he spoke, one 
 would not think so. However, this fact did not denote 
 anything but the extraordinary ability of the Count for 
 languages; for Mr. Milton had heard him speaking sev 
 eral European and oriental languages with such perfec 
 tion that it was a very difficult matter to detect which of 
 these languages was the one he had learned first. Once 
 he had asked the Count as to how he succeeded in learn 
 ing so many languages, and to this he answered that 
 there was nothing so marvellous about it, for he had 
 known little children in Constantinople who spoke four 
 or five languages before they knew their alphabet. Then 
 
 26
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 Mr. Milton s mind ran along other lines concerning the 
 Count. He had seen on several occasions strangers evi 
 dently from some far land visiting him. Their seclusion 
 with the Count, the secrecy maintained about the visitors, 
 and all connected with these visits, were so mysterious, 
 so strange. One of these occasions he remembered very 
 well, for it happened that while Mr. Milton was waiting 
 in the oriental room of the Count s apartments, he un 
 willingly overheard the conversation taking place in the 
 adjoining room, and which ran like this; the visiting 
 stranger was speaking with an agitation peculiar to ori 
 entals, and after he had mentioned several names of 
 places and people unknown to Mr. Milton, he ended his 
 sentence by saying; "And with all of that, I could not 
 find my way clear; following your instructions I took 
 necessary steps and by the express order of the minis 
 tries of foreign affairs, both of the French and the Eng 
 lish governments, their respective consular archives lo 
 cated in the city of Mosul were carefully examined and 
 no trace has been found. Useless to say, the Turkish au 
 thorities, notwithstanding all our efforts, could not fur 
 nish even such information as ordinarily local police are 
 capable of giving." This was said in broken French, and 
 then there was silence, followed with the emphatic voice 
 of the Count, who was now speaking to his servant. 
 "Yonan," he said, "it is your fault your unpardonable 
 fault is the cause of these disastrous consequences; why 
 in the name of the Lord did you not preserve the name, 
 once in your possession?" And then followed a long and 
 depressing silence. On those occasions and especially on 
 the occasion just mentioned the Count appeared to be 
 much annoyed and discouraged. These symptoms Mr. 
 
 27
 
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 Milton could easily see and read in the countenance of 
 the Count, for he had a very expressive face, and his pair 
 of blue eyes especially served him as good indicators of 
 what was going on in his mind and soul. What appeared 
 to Mr. Milton to be most mysterious was the fact that 
 the Count never spoke of himself, his family, or anything 
 that would indicate his interests and aims in life. He 
 was then a man of forty summers, but his vigorous and 
 robust health made him appear much younger. Very reg 
 ular in his mode of living and his habits, he never knew 
 what it was to be ill, and this had a great deal to do with 
 his youthful appearance. The Count had a very com 
 manding attitude, which was only natural to him ; yet 
 in his relations with those who came in contact with him 
 he was very kind and congenial. He was a single man, 
 and seemingly satisfied with his lot, provided he had his 
 faithful Yonan with him. This was the picture of the 
 man about whom Mr. Milton wished to know something 
 more than he knew at the time of his contemplation. 
 One thing was very sure in Mr. Milton s mind, and that 
 was, that there was another man in this Count, and that 
 man had a story to tell. Who was that man, and what 
 was his story? This was what Mr. Milton could not 
 divine. While he was thus thinking, the Count entered 
 the room and began to ask Mr. Milton about the lecture 
 he had been attending that morning in the university. In 
 answer, Mr. Milton narrated in a very amusing way, 
 that during the session of the class a half hour had been 
 spent in a discussion between the professor and one of 
 the students, who happened to be a Jew from Warsaw, 
 as to how the Chaldean word "Topana," which means 
 "deluge," should be pronounced. Whether it was 
 
 28
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 "Tfana," "Tafana" or "Taufana," they could not decide. 
 Hearing- this the Count laughed heartily, and said neither 
 one of these was correct; for the letter "f" did not exist 
 in the Chaldean alphabet, nor the letter "p," but that 
 there was a letter somewhat similar to "p" in sound, but 
 much softer, and that the word was pronounced simply 
 "Topana." Then he turned to his omnipresent Yonan, 
 telling him to serve the jasmine kalyon, which meant a 
 long Turkish pipe, and passed into the oriental room, 
 where the rest of the afternoon was spent with Mr. Mil 
 ton. 
 
 Shortly after this incident Mr. Milton unexpectedly 
 returned to America, as we already know, and the Count 
 left Paris for Egypt. Thus separated they lost track of 
 each other. 
 
 These were the existing relations between the two men 
 we see now sitting and conversing on the porch of the 
 Casino on the shores of Lake Tahoe. 
 
 Hardly had Mr. Milton time to ask the Count a few 
 questions when he noticed a man standing a few yards 
 distant, and recognized the Chaldean, who now dressed 
 in American fashion was looking and smiling at him. 
 Mr. Milton - at once turned, wishing to shake hands with 
 him, but Yonan bowed very low and quite clearly indi 
 cated that although he was in America he did not forget 
 that he was only a servant to the Count, and in his pres 
 ence no familiarity towards the friends of his master 
 was admissible. 
 
 All countries, all nations, according to their develop 
 ment, have their own ideas in regard to social usages. 
 
 Ethical and aesthetical principles are not understood 
 in the same way by all people. They are different with 
 different countries and their inhabitants, and this under- 
 
 29
 
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 standing or misunderstanding, if you choose, is the 
 cause of differences in customs which characterize the 
 inhabitants of each separate country. 
 
 Yonan was a literary man, according to his native 
 country, but this fact not only did not make him feel 
 humiliated in performing the duties of a simple servant, 
 but on the contrary, it gave to him a sort of charm, know- 
 ing that he was a servant to a very distinguished person 
 such as his master the Count was; and while undoubtedly 
 he knew how to appreciate the cordial greeting of Mr. 
 Milton, following his eastern custom he remained passive 
 and entirely submissive to his oriental nature; for in his 
 understanding he would have felt guilty of an inadmissi 
 ble familiarity had he shaken hands with a friend of his 
 master, even though he was encouraged by such an one. 
 Mr. Milton understood this very promptly and ended by 
 asking him how he \vas. In answer he received a silent 
 bow with a pleasant smile. 
 
 By this time the porch of the Casino was fairly well 
 filled with the guests in search of the breeze so abundant 
 ly found there; and the two old friends felt somewhat 
 uncomfortable, for the noise caused by the crowd inter 
 fered with their conversation. The Count looked around 
 as though in quest of an issue, and then turning to Mr. 
 Milton said : 
 
 "Don t you think we are entitled to a good Turkish 
 pipe, such as we used to have in Paris?" 
 
 "Most assuredly," replied Mr. Milton. "I will enjoy a 
 Turkish smoke if such be your pleasure." 
 
 "Very well, then," said the Count, "let us go to my 
 cottage where we will find a very comfortable room, and 
 have a pleasant smoke." Then turning to Yonan, he said 
 in Chaldean that he might go first in order to receive him 
 and his friend properly. 
 
 30
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 There are a number of small cottages lined amongst 
 the old pine trees between the main building of the hos 
 telry and the Casino. One of these cottages the Count 
 had rented for the summer season, and to this cottage he 
 walked in company with Mr. Milton. When they ar 
 rived at the place, Yonan had prepared the desired pipes 
 and was waiting for them. Entering the spacious room 
 the Count offered a comfortable chair to Mr. Milton, and 
 seated himself in another, and as though automatically he 
 clapped his hands loudly, which was a signal to the Chal 
 dean that they were ready for the pipes. Immediately 
 the Chaldean appeared, holding 1 his left hand on his 
 breast and carrying a long pipe in his right hand. With 
 a low bow he rested the bowl of the pipe on the floor 
 in front of the Count, and gracefully making a semicircle 
 in the air with the stem, he passed the mouth-piece into 
 the right hand of his master. Then he went for the other 
 pipe, which he served in a similar way to Mr. Milton. 
 
 Thus seated comfortably the two friends spent the rest 
 of the afternoon in recalling the time they were in Paris, 
 and delightful remembrances connected with it. 
 
 The following morning it was announced in the hos 
 telry that there would be an excursion by a steamer on the 
 Lake. Learning about this Mr. Milton immediately sent 
 a note to the Count asking whether he would like to take 
 the trip; to which the Count replied that he would be 
 only delighted, and requested Mr. Milton to see about 
 the necessary arrangements, adding that he would be in 
 time to take the boat. 
 
 Mr. Milton was very glad of the opportunity to spend 
 the day on the boat, and especially was he glad that the 
 Count was going to be in the company. Accordingly 
 after breakfast Mr. Milton having made the requisite pro 
 vision for himself and the Count, went to the boat. 
 
 31
 
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 Hardly had he stepped aboard the steamer when he met 
 his good friend Dr. J. Ihringier in company with George 
 Irving. 
 
 "Hallo, there," shouted Mr. Irving. "Glad to see 
 you re here, old man. Hope you did not get arrested for 
 coming so late to the Lake." 
 
 "How could they? Don t they know you are here to 
 protect me?" replied Mr. Milton, and began to inquire 
 whether Mr. Irving was there for his pleasure or with 
 his wife. 
 
 "Both, both," shouted Mr. Irving, "my wife is here 
 and my pleasure with her. I wish she would hear me," 
 he ended meekly. 
 
 "Never mind, she knows it without hearing you," 
 joined the Doctor, "but look there at that crowd coming 
 to the boat. You would think the whole city of the An 
 gels was here." 
 
 "Yes, they are all Angelenos," remarked Mr. Irving. 
 
 "How do you know?" asked Mr. Milton. 
 
 "By Jove!" ejaculated the Doctor, "is there a man in 
 Los Angeles whom Mr. Irving does not know ?" 
 
 At this moment the crowd reached the boat, and there 
 amongst them with his stately figure came the Count fol 
 lowed by his Chaldean. Mr. Milton met him very af 
 fably, and greeting him cordially asked whether he could 
 introduce to him some of his friends who he thought 
 would be interesting to the Count. Having received his 
 consent he introduced the Doctor. 
 
 "This is my friend, Doctor Joseph Ihringier," said 
 Mr. Milton. "From his name you can easily conclude 
 that he belongs to the great German race. The Doctor 
 was born in Germantown, Philadelphia, and this is an 
 other reason that he is a German. Besides," he went on. 
 "the Doctor amongst many of his virtues has one the 
 
 32
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 most prominent, and that is, that he is a great admirer 
 of all German scientists, and especially of Ernest Haeckel. 
 When he is not thinking of what Haeckel said he is sure 
 ly singing some verses of the old Nibelungen-Lied, for 
 he is an ardent lover of Teutonic antiquities." 
 
 Then he turned to Mr. Irving, and introducing him to 
 the Count, said, that George Irving was the best man on 
 the earth and a real jewel amongst his friends. 
 
 The Count seemed greatly pleased with the introduc 
 tion, and the introduced. After shaking hands very cor 
 dially with both gentlemen he remarked that through this 
 short introduction of Mr. Milton he had learned about 
 them enough to expect that a closer acquaintance between 
 them would be mutually enjoyable. 
 
 Saying this they all went to the stern of the boat, 
 where they found comfortable chairs. 
 
 The boat was running smoothly on the Nevada side 
 going north. The Sun was throwing its vivifying rays 
 abundantly into the clear waters producing continually 
 innumerable shades of green and blue in the deep of the 
 Lake. The guests on the boat seemed to be very happy. 
 They were grouped to suit their conveniences. In one 
 of these groups, the most prominent was a doctor; a tall, 
 corpulent, fleshy, fat, plump, pursy, round anything-you- 
 please. He was engaged in flirting with two young sis 
 ters. "These girls are of a splendid Titian type," said 
 one of the bystanders. The doctor did not care much 
 whether they were Titians or Murillos. They were his 
 at this time and that was enough. The doctor had made 
 his specialty to have the company of a blonde girl right 
 after his breakfast, so remarked one of Mr. Irving s 
 friends. The Titians would do him, he said, after the 
 lunch, and for the evening a brunette of the Dominicino 
 type would nicely fill the bill. This sort of amusement 
 
 33
 
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 did not embarrass the doctor when he was asked about 
 his wife. He expressed his great sorrow that he had to 
 leave her at home. Next to this group there was a mid 
 dle-aged gentleman with a gray curly mustache and 
 pleasantly smiling face. He was a well known dignitary 
 in the financial circle of Los Angeles. He had brought 
 with him one of his sons, Theodore, a well-promising 
 young man, to give him a little recreation after his hard 
 studies, and now he was telling his neighbor, an elderly 
 gentleman, about his experiences on the Lake Granite, 
 where he had spent one whole day with his son, and had 
 caught fourteen fish, the expenses of the day for hiring 
 horses and a guide amounting to twelve dollars. He did 
 not think the investment was in harmony with banking 
 rules, and this remark set them to hearty laughter. Fur 
 ther on there was a tall brunette girl, just recently grad 
 uated from the California University. She was all alone 
 and in a quiet contemplative mood. She held in her right 
 hand a pencil, and a pad of writing paper was resting on 
 her knee. Impressed by the surroundings, she had writ 
 ten in a prettily bound book an ode to the wild flowers, 
 in Latin, and now following Catullus, and using his lan 
 guage she wrote its dedication; 
 
 Cui dono lepidtim novum libellum 
 
 Arida modo pumice expolitum? 
 
 Tibi- -(*) 
 
 Here she stopped, as though afraid to write the name 
 of her idol. 
 
 In the meantime the Count with his newly made friends 
 were discussing current topics, mixed with the jovial 
 humor of Mr. Irving. 
 
 (*) To whom am I to dedicate this pretty little book 
 Carefully polished with dry pumice? 
 To thee 
 
 34
 
 Shakespeare Cliff, on Which is Found the Profile of the 
 English Play Writer
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 They had passed the two small places on the Nevada 
 side known as Hobart and Cave Rock, and reached Glen- 
 brook, the lake terminus of the Carson Stage line, where 
 the boat stopped. Glenbrook is to the Nevada side of 
 Lake Tahoe what Tahoe city is to the California side, 
 that is, the point of approach or departure. Here our 
 excursionists left the boat for a short trip in the vicinity 
 of Glenbrook. Following the crowd the Count and his 
 friends decided to go to the shore, and while walking 
 on the bridge Mr. Irving called the Count s attention to 
 the so-called Shakespeare Cliff, abruptly rising on the 
 south side of the bridge. 
 
 "There is a remarkable nature s freak," said he. 
 
 Looking in the direction of the point indicated the 
 Count noticed, right on the center of the smooth surface 
 of the cliff, a resemblance to Shakespeare s profile. It 
 was nothing more than a dark yellowish stain, somewhat 
 reminding one of the profile of the great English play 
 writer. 
 
 "Yes." said the Count, "it reminds one of the picture 
 generally known as that of Shakespeare. But what an 
 irony of faith ! In this age of critical investigations, even 
 Shakespeare is denied the honor of being the author of 
 his writings." 
 
 "But do you think there is sufficient ground for this 
 theory?" asked Mr. Milton. 
 
 "Undoubtedly there is more than sufficient ground that 
 Shakespeare was only a mask of Francis Bacon," an 
 swered the Count, looking around for some place to 
 lean upon. 
 
 By this time they had reached the end of the bridge, 
 where they found a big fallen tree lying by the trail lead 
 ing to a small hotel. Finding the place picturesque the 
 Count sat on one end of the tree facing the Shakespeare 
 
 35
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 cliff, as though wishing to give better thought to the sub 
 ject brought up for discussion. 
 
 "Yet everybody knows," resumed Mr. Irving, who fol 
 lowing the example of the rest of the company had seated 
 himself in Turkish fashion on the green grass, "that Wil 
 liam Shakespeare wrote those plays. All the writers, 
 ancient and modern, say so." 
 
 "Yes, everybody says so," jocosely echoed Dr. Ihrin- 
 gier, Vox populi vox Dei, that is what the old Romans 
 would have called it." 
 
 "That everybody says so, does not prove anything. 
 They have said a good many things in the past which 
 have been proved to be not so. But it seems you are in 
 harmony with the Baconians," said Mr. Milton, turning 
 to the Count; "to tell the truth I know very little or 
 rather nothing about the facts, if there are any, upon 
 \vhich these people base their theory; and naturally am 
 very curious to know as to what extent these Baconians 
 are justified in making up their conclusions." 
 
 "You said well," replied the Count. "In order to form 
 an opinion, one must know the subject thoroughly well ; 
 but unfortunately this is not the case with the people at 
 large. The undeniable fact with them is that the less 
 they know of a subject the more positive their assertions 
 are in regard to it." 
 
 "Yes, that is so," joined Dr. Ihringier, "there are more 
 doctors in this world than any other profession. If you 
 have headache or any other ailment you may consult the 
 first one you meet on the street, and you may rest as 
 sured that he will tell you what to do to cure you." 
 
 "But let us come to the subject," ejaculated Mr. Ir 
 ving, and turning to the Count said: 
 
 "Do you really think that Shakespeare did not write 
 the plays attributed to him?" 
 
 36
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 "I have no choice to make," replied the Count. "It is 
 a question of evidence in the matter that commands an 
 opinion. The so-called Baconian theory is not a fable. 
 It is based on undeniable facts. It would be useless to 
 quote in detail the whole structure of this discovery 
 which you call the Baconian theory; but if I have to 
 choose to say something about it, I would say that the 
 proofs contained in the plays themselves ought to be suf 
 ficient to convince one that Shakespeare was only a 
 chosen tool by the real author of the plays. In the days 
 of Queen Elizabeth the citizens of England did not en 
 joy freedom of speech and thought as they do today. 
 Many truths had to be concealed between the lines, and 
 the real meaning could be only found in the cipher then 
 so extensively employed by the writers. The plays have 
 a well arranged cipher which practically connects all the 
 plays in question and gives us the real history of their 
 origin. This cipher has been discovered and if only we 
 would read it we would not need any better proof for 
 the corroboration of the assertions made by the Bacon 
 ians." 
 
 "Supposing that there is a cipher as you say, does that 
 cipher state that Shakespeare did not write the plays?" 
 inquired Mr. Irving. 
 
 "Most assuredly," replied the Count. "We read in the 
 cipher of the plays what Sir Robert Cecil reported to the 
 insistent queries of Queen Elizabeth. This is what he said: 
 That Morelow or Shak stapur never writ a word of 
 them ; then again; It is plain he (Shakespeare) is stuff 
 ing our ears with false reports and lies this many a 
 year. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that this statement is to be 
 
 37
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 found in the plays now attributed to Shakespeare?" 
 again inquired Mr. Irving. 
 
 "That is exactly what I mean," replied the Count, "not 
 only that, but you will find in the cipher as given in the 
 Great Cryptogram, the precise answer to all questions 
 that might arise in connection with the subject. There 
 you will read that William Shakespeare was not capable 
 of writing these plays and why. There you will find the 
 reason why the real author of the plays, Francis Bacon, 
 would not and could not announce publicly that he was 
 the author of the plays, and the most important fact is 
 that this information does not come from any foreign 
 sources, but is contained in the plays supposed to be writ 
 ten by Shakespeare, of whom this is what Sir Robert 
 Cecil tells the Queen; He is the son of a poor peasant 
 who yet folloived the trade of glove making in the hole 
 where he ivas born and bred, one of the peasant towns 
 of the west " 
 
 "Then if that be so," exclaimed Mr. Milton, "we are 
 simply deceived by historians who tell us about the au 
 thorship of Shakespeare. Is it possible that historians 
 during the last three centuries have been giving us unre 
 liable facts?" 
 
 "Not only is it possible, but it appears to be a positive 
 fact that they have done so, though unintentionally," re 
 plied the Count. "They gave you \vhat they got from their 
 predecessors. Besides, to think or assert that historians, 
 even in our days, tell the world all that occurs in any age 
 or country, is simply a childish admission denoting a gross 
 ignorance in matters human. Here is what Richelieu 
 says about history as it is presented to us ; 
 History preserves only the fleshless bones 
 
 38
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 Of what we were; and by the mocking skull 
 
 The would-be wise pretend to guess the features. 
 
 Without the roundness and the glow of life, 
 
 How hideous is the skeleton ! 
 
 "But is it possible," inquired Dr. Ihringier, "that the 
 truth in regard to the authorship of the plays was not 
 found out even by the all-powerful and all-knowing gov 
 ernment of Queen Elizabeth?" 
 
 "It seems that was the case," replied the Count, "for 
 we read in the cipher story of the great Court excite 
 ment over the so-called Shakespeare play of Richard II. 
 This same cipher story tells us of an attempt on the 
 part of the Queen to find out who was the real author 
 of the play ; of her belief, impressed upon her by the rea 
 soning of Robert Cecil, Francis Bacon s cousin, that the 
 
 o 
 
 purpose of the play was treasonable, and that the repre 
 sentation on the stage of the deposition and murder of 
 the unfortunate Richard was intended to incite the civil 
 \var, and lead to her own deposition and murder. The 
 cipher also tells us that she sent out posts to find and ar 
 rest Shakespeare, intending to put him to the torture, or 
 "the question," as it was called in that day, and compel 
 him to reveal the name of the man for whom, as Cecil al 
 leged, he was but a mask ; and it also tells how this re 
 sult was avoided by getting Shakespeare out of the coun 
 try and beyond the Seas. 
 
 "This sounds simply like an Arabian story," said Mr. 
 Irving, "to think that the whole civilized world was de 
 ceived for so many centuries!" 
 
 "It w 7 ould not be so bad," replied the Count, "were it 
 the only historical deception that we have had. We have 
 been deceived in many other things. But observe this
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 fact, that this kind of deception when unintentionally 
 perpetrated for we have many historical statements 
 intentionally falsified to suit those in power is due sole 
 ly to the lack of possibility of obtaining authentic infor 
 mation, and this fact we always should bear in mind 
 when dealing with history. As for the subject we have 
 been discussing, it is not my object necessarily to prove 
 that Bacon was the author of the well-known plays at 
 tributed to Shakespeare ; for today it makes no difference 
 to the reading public whether they were written by Bacon 
 or Shakespeare. The plays have the merit in themselves, 
 and that is enough for the lovers of classic literature to 
 which unquestionably the plays belong. As for the name 
 of the author, probably the plays will go to posterity as 
 they came to us under the name of Shakespeare. As 
 for the Baconian theory, it is purely a controversial ques 
 tion to be decided by the historians and archaeologists 
 as to where the truth lies. What I wish to say in this 
 matter is, that history is not infallible nor omniscient. 
 The farther we go back, the less reliable facts we have 
 from that source. This controversy shows how little was 
 known to the people and also to those at the head of the 
 English government at the time these plays came to the 
 notice of the public. Now if historical facts reported 
 from the seventeenth century are shown to be not alto 
 gether reliable, what have we to think of facts which oc 
 curred in the tenth, fifth or first centuries of the Christian 
 era? And what have we to think about the traditions 
 and so-called revelations which presumably took place 
 long before the Christian era ?" 
 
 Here Mr. Irving could not keep silence any longer, 
 and getting on his knees abruptly exclaimed: 
 
 40
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 "Gentlemen, what is the use? These book writers will 
 always find some pretext to write a new book; and be 
 sides what does that matter to us whether it was Charle 
 magne who created the Holy Roman Empire or Otto 
 the Great ? The Empire is dead and gone and with it its 
 emperors what is the use? Nowadays it seems history 
 is not any better than metallurgy; we have to dig to find 
 out what we want ; it is a matter of opinion !" 
 
 "I beg your pardon," exclaimed Mr. Milton, "history 
 is not a matter of opinion. The task of a history is to 
 give nothing but facts. The conscientious historian has 
 no opinion of his own ; he gathers facts to the best of his 
 ability and so states." 
 
 "He does, when he can," replied Dr. Ihringier, "but 
 what, when he can not?" 
 
 "Then he does not write history," answered Mr. Mil 
 ton. 
 
 "But history must be written at any rate," retorted 
 Dr. Ihringier. "What would be the position of a his 
 torian who writes the history of the Austrian dynasty 
 if he omits the tragic death of the Crown Prince, the 
 only son of the Emperor of Austria?" 
 
 "Ah, the tragic death of the Crown Prince, of which 
 no one knows anything," said Mr. Irving. 
 
 "Beg pardon," responded the Doctor, "we all know 
 that he is dead; what we do not know is the cause of 
 his death." 
 
 "Ta, ta, I see you are not a doctor for fashion," ejacu 
 lated Mr. Irving, "you want to know whether it was 
 pneumonia or Angina Ludovici that caused the death of 
 the young and promising Prince. Sometimes people die 
 of a bullet, too." 
 
 41
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "That much we all know," responded the doctor 
 thoughtfully, "but the historian who does not know the 
 story of the bullet, whether it came from the sinister 
 hand of an offended husband, brother or lover, or 
 whether it was an act of self destruction, what shall such 
 an historian have to write?" 
 
 "He will write whatever he thinks will be most ac 
 ceptable, and that will be history," murmured Mr. Irving. 
 
 "Precisely," ejaculated the Count, "that is the condi 
 tion in which we find our history. Strictly speaking Mr. 
 Irving is right; it is a matter of opinion of the writer. 
 However, what strikes us most forcibly in the above dis 
 cussion is this : that if the facts of public interest such 
 as the above mentioned, which occurred in our days of 
 telegraph, telephone and the aggressive newspaper re 
 porter, are covered with such darkness and mystery, how 
 can we expect to know the exact happenings in the days 
 of Queen Elizabeth, when all occurrences were given 
 such an official mien as the circumstances commanded? 
 And when we go back to the times when Eusebius wrote 
 his history, and still further back when Josephus Flavins 
 the Jew and the great historical authority in the begin 
 ning of the first century of the Christian era, wrote his 
 Antiquities of Jews, we cannot exercise too much pre 
 caution in learning a comparative historical truth." 
 
 At this moment the attention of the Count and his 
 friends was attracted by the noise of returning excursion 
 ists, among whom a young man with his tenor voice 
 was singing; 
 
 "Mary had a little lamb, 
 
 Whose fleece was white as snow." 
 
 The rest of the song could not be heard for the whistle
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE TAHOE. 
 
 of the steamer announcing the departure of the boat was 
 much louder than his voice. 
 
 In a few minutes the whole crowd joined and shortly 
 they took their seats on the boat, which immediately left 
 the shores of the great state of Nevada to return to Cali 
 fornia. 
 
 The sun was going down hiding itself behind the 
 proud mountains on the western shores of Lake Tahoe. 
 The last reflections in the clear waters once more gave 
 their fantastic display of colors, and shortly all vanished 
 leaving the white steamer to do its work till it reached 
 its destination. 
 
 The guests who had spent their afternoon at the Casino 
 came in a mass to meet the boat, and shortly all were 
 back in their rooms getting ready for their evening meal. 
 
 After this delightful trip the Count spent most of his 
 time in the company of Mr. Milton and his newly made 
 friends. They made several excursions in the vicinity 
 of the Tallac mountain and around the Lake. Needless 
 to say that the beautiful shores of the Lake with its for 
 est and wild flowers furnished many an instructive sub 
 ject for discussion to this little company of admirers of 
 nature and science, for the old maxim "Homo sum nihil- 
 que humani alienum me esse puto" (*) was common prop 
 erty to the Count and his friends. 
 
 (*) I am a man and nothing pertaining to man I consider 
 alien to me. 
 
 43
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE EBELL. 
 
 Mrs. Milton was a prominent member of the Ebell or 
 ganization. Devoting her whole heart and soul to it, she 
 contributed a great deal in promoting its vital interests. 
 The movement started years ago by public spirited 
 women like Miss Anthony, Mrs. Stanton, Madam Sev 
 erance and their followers, was eagerly watched by Mrs. 
 Milton. In this movement she saw the rise of woman 
 hood to its proper height. 
 
 While Europe was loudly talking about woman s 
 rights, clothing it in an ephemeral garment, the Ameri 
 can woman energetically took the matter in her own hand 
 in a business like manner and established institutions 
 which practically have solved the problem. Was the 
 woman to remain in the scope assigned to her by the 
 barbarian ages of the past? Was she to remain for ever 
 nothing but a female? No. She wanted to occupy her 
 place in the community as a dignified wife and mother. 
 She wanted to be an equal companion to her husband; 
 she wanted to stand on the same level with him; she 
 wanted to have equal rights with man. Why could not 
 she pursue this exalted position? Was she not gifted 
 with intelligence and capability to cope with the problems 
 of life? Did not she possess the key of happiness in 
 
 44
 
 THE E B E L L. 
 
 home life? Was not she the one to whom man owed the 
 tenderest part of his life? Was not she the inspirer, the 
 giver of the best that there is in man? 
 
 A club life to man is a sort of rest and amusement. A 
 club life to the woman is an resthetical culture. Men go 
 to the club house to meet their equals, to have a lunch, 
 a dinner, a strong coffee with a Havana cigar, an inno 
 cent or hazardous game, or a talk on business matters. 
 Women go to the club house, to hear a philosopher, a 
 naturalist, a scientist; to see the old and the new produc 
 tion of art; to attend a class of Literature, Music, Edu 
 cation, Science, Civics. Parliamentary Law, French, and 
 Home with its pure food and legislation pertaining to it. 
 
 Here eight hundred and fifty active members, of all 
 ages, come, whenever their home duties permit them to 
 spend a pleasant hour in this elevating atmosphere. Here 
 the woman learns not only what her husband, father or 
 brother knows, but she also learns what they do not 
 know, the exalted position of a woman in public and 
 home life. 
 
 This delightful institution is located on beautiful Fig- 
 ueroa street, where a passer-by can not help noticing the 
 imposing building with its simplicity, having on the front 
 porch the one worded inscription "Ebell." This is the 
 name of its originator. 
 
 Dr. Adrian Ebell was a noted German scholar who 
 spent his life in solving problems of interest to humanity. 
 He came to the conclusion that a thinking woman was 
 a necessity. But how could she be made a thinking 
 woman when her opportunities for development along 
 scientific lines were so utterly limited? To remove this 
 obstacle he conceived the idea of establishing an inter- 
 
 45
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 national academy with chapters all over the world, and 
 while traveling in America in 1876, he formed the first 
 chapter, the Oakland Ebell. It is after this well organ 
 ized club that the Ebell of Los Angeles is modeled, con 
 sisting of a central organization with departments for 
 study and advancement in all lines of general culture. 
 
 Such was the institution in which Mrs. Milton was 
 greatly interested. 
 
 The two charming ladies, presidents of this Institu 
 tion, Mrs. K and her successor Mrs. H , skill 
 fully took advantage of every available opportunity to 
 gather to the club house men and things they thought 
 interesting and instructive, in order to give the mem 
 bers ample opportunity for the realization of the aims of 
 the Institution. Following this wise system, during the 
 summer when the events narrated here took place, they 
 had a very interesting exhibit, in fact a very unique one. 
 
 There was in the club house a room set apart for the 
 use of the Alliance Francaise, where a regular class of 
 French was attended by a great number of ladies. In 
 this room they had exhibited a copy of Rafael s famous 
 Sistine Madonna Madonna Sixtina a pain-ting in 
 needle work, pronounced perfect by the greatest art crit 
 ics of Europe and America a new creation of art, which 
 as yet has no competition. This marvellous embroidery, 
 in full sized copy of the original 8xio, with the same 
 coloring, was made by Fraulein Clara Ripberger, of 
 Dresden, Germany. Needless to say that on this occa 
 sion a large majority of the members was present. 
 
 When the door of the room was opened the president 
 of the club, with a grace charmingly becoming to her 
 dignified personality, invited the ladies to enter the room 
 
 46
 
 THE EBELL. 
 
 where the famous picture was exhibited for their inspec 
 tion. Shortly every seat in the room was taken. Mrs. 
 Milton being- amongst those standing near the door, suc 
 ceeded in getting a chair in the first row opposite the pic 
 ture, so that she could see it in its best light. The younger 
 generation had to content itself with standing room. 
 Many of them stood on the side where the picture was 
 hanging and naturally they were facing those sitting in 
 chairs. When the room was filled to its utmost capacity 
 and the rustling caused by the silk dresses of the ladies 
 subsided, the sister of the artist who had made the pic 
 ture proceeded with her explanatory address, in which 
 she depicted, in an interesting way, the story of the 
 famous work of art, and then went on describing the de 
 tails of the needlework in that wonderful picture accom 
 plished by her sister during many long and tedious years. 
 To substitute the needle for the brush of the immortal 
 Rafaello was the object of the work, and this was won 
 derfully well attained. 
 
 On the right hand side amongst standing ladies and 
 near the picture stood a young lady of striking person 
 ality. She was a beautiful blonde with light blue eyes. 
 Her exceedingly rich hair, crowning her prettily chiseled 
 head, fell around her shoulders as a well fitted back 
 ground to her oval face, which now was a picture by it 
 self, full of exalted admiration for the art she was con 
 templating. Her figure, of medium height, exceedingly 
 well proportioned, was an exquisite expression of har 
 monious femininity. She was dressed in a light gray 
 dress, very modestly, and devoid of all those little things 
 which suggest shallow vanity in a young lady of her age. 
 She was a girl of four and twenty summers. Looking 
 
 47
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 into her expressive eyes, one could notice that she was 
 entirely captivated with what she was witnessing at the 
 moment. Forgetful of herself, unconsciously she moved 
 nearer to the picture and took a position which made her 
 appear as though she were a part of it. To those facing 
 the picture it was almost an unavoidable transition from 
 the kneeling figure of the pope in the picture, to this mod 
 est figure of the young girl in gray. Mrs. Milton, who 
 was enraptured with the subject before her, listening at 
 tentively to the given explanation, had allowed her eyes 
 to rest on the figures in the picture, and while she moved 
 her glance from one to another, through that mysterious 
 harmony of colors which now was regulating her vision, 
 she unnoticeably passed from the picture to the standing 
 figure. At this moment her eyes met those of the young 
 lady and they both simultaneously smiled. This little in 
 cident changed altogether the predominating mood of 
 Mrs. Milton. From this moment she was not looking 
 at the picture of the immortal Rafael any longer. Her 
 eyes and thoughts were with the girl she saw standing. 
 "Ah, she is always so pretty, so charming, this Virginia 
 Gladston," thought Mrs. Milton. "What an exquisite 
 companion she would make for my son, and James ad 
 mired her so much," she went on thinking. "Her figure, 
 her almost transparent and most delicate complexion, her 
 expressive eyes, her charming face, with that contrasting 
 little mole in the shape of the morning star, on her cheek 
 near the lower part of her right ear; all that beauty be 
 comes unnoticeable when one thinks of her noble charac 
 ter, enriched with so many traits of unusual qualities. 
 But, oh dear me, she is so much enwrapped in herself 
 
 48
 
 THE EBELL. 
 
 and in what she terms her duties that she hardly can 
 notice anyone in this wide world." 
 
 While Mrs. Milton was thus thinking, the address of 
 the German lady came to an end, and the audience was 
 requested to leave the room to make place for the other 
 ladies waiting in the parlor. Mrs. Milton was glad to 
 leave the room, but before she did so, she grasped the 
 little hand of the girl now standing before her and said : 
 
 "Come, Miss Virginia, come with me. I am so glad to 
 see you; I want to speak to you;" saying this, both ladies 
 went to the parlor and sat on a sofa near the window. 
 
 "Now tell me," Mrs. Milton continued, "how have you 
 been since I saw you last?" 
 
 "Oh, I am always well, thank you," answered Miss 
 Virginia, "you know I have no time to be ill." 
 
 "And how is your aunt, Mrs. Pratt ? Is she here with 
 you?" inquired Mrs. Milton. 
 
 "No, my aunt is not here," answered Miss Virginia, 
 with a tone indicating anxiety. "She had to stay home, 
 for Corinne is not well, and you know we could not leave 
 her alone." 
 
 "I hope nothing serious," said Mrs. Milton. 
 
 "Oh no, a little cold," answered Miss Virginia. "She 
 must stay in for a few days, and that is the most difficult 
 thing to make her do." 
 
 "Yes, it is hard to keep children in the house while 
 they are able to run," said Mrs. Milton, "but I hope she 
 will get well in a few days. You know," she continued, 
 "I have not been able to go anywhere since James left 
 for his vacation. I undertook to make some changes 
 in the house while he is away, and that is what keeps 
 me busy." 
 
 49
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "Have you had any news from Mr. Milton?" inquired 
 Miss Virginia. 
 
 "O, yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Milton. "I received 
 a letter from him just this morning; here it is;" saying 
 this she opened her hand bag, took out the letter, and 
 passing it to Miss Virginia, said : 
 
 "You can read it ; he writes me from Lake Tahoe, and 
 he describes his trip to the Tallac Mountain so nicely." 
 
 Miss Virginia took the letter and began to read : 
 
 THE 
 
 LAKE TAHOE, CAUFORNIA. 
 
 July ...., 190.. .. 
 "Dear Mother: 
 
 "I have been enjoying the life of a mountaineer now 
 already for a week, as you know, but the attraction seems 
 so strong that I may possibly stay here another week. 
 
 "To begin with I must tell you right here that this 
 attraction I am speaking of is not altogether local. Un 
 expectedly I met here an old and dear friend of mine 
 whom I greatly admire. Can you guess whom I mean? 
 Had I been told that I would meet here my good friend 
 Count Morat, I would not have believed it. Yet the 
 fact is that he is here, and I am spending most of mv 
 time with him. You know him very well, mother, al 
 though you have never met him. You have no idea 
 what a great pleasure it is to be in his company. He is 
 so interesting, so intensely interesting. In short he is 
 the greatest acquisition we can have in Los Angeles. He 
 is coming with me to locate there. I am sure, mother, 
 you will be delighted to meet him and know him per 
 sonally. 
 
 50
 
 Tallac Mountain Viewed from Lake Tahoe
 
 THE EBELL. 
 
 "As for the country here it is a very charming one; 
 and if I regret anything it is the fact that you are not 
 here with me. The air, the singing birds, the wild flow 
 ers, the old pine trees clothed with fresh green, remind 
 one of Spring and its inspiring dreams. But alas, as al 
 ways is the case with mankind, we are not satisfied with 
 the beauty of one place; we go in search of another. 
 Thus, last Wednesday, we started for our all day trip to 
 the Tallac Mountain. The Count did not go with us on 
 this occasion. This we consisted of six fair young 
 ladies, seven gentlemen and two guides of course guides 
 are not men they are only guides. 
 
 "All erect in their respective saddles like an Arabian 
 squadron, breathing the fresh morning air, saturated 
 with the aroma of pines and surrounding flora, we pro 
 ceeded with a gallop worthy of some better cause. Short 
 ly we reached an open valley full of a picturesqueness 
 difficult to describe. Acres and acres of remaining snow 
 covering the largest portion of the majestic mountain, 
 made the panorama more than attractive. Venerable 
 looking old pine trees here and there, telling the story 
 of ages and ages, perfected the mosaic part of the charm 
 ing picture. An innumerable quantity of streams and 
 divers sized water falls, covering nearly all the visible 
 sides of the Tallac and reflected by the radiant sunlight, 
 presented one of the most enchanting aspects of mountain 
 life. 
 
 "Finally after five hours climbing mostly on horse 
 back and a few hundred yards on foot, we reached our 
 destination, the top of the Tallac Mountain. Tallac is 
 an Indian word, which means mountain. Here we be 
 held a superb picture of lakes and rivers, surrounded by 
 
 51
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 a rich and varied kingdom of verdure, comprising an 
 area of several miles around us. We stood at the height 
 of 9786 feet above the sea level. 
 
 "The impression created by what we saw was so grand 
 and majestic that, for a little while a dead silence reigned 
 in this little crowd of fifteen persons. We all seemed lost 
 in our thoughts. I said we/ although actually I do not 
 know whether my companions had such a misfortune as 
 to be thinking; but I know I could not help seeing and 
 admiring the grandeur that the magnitude of the Tallac 
 represented. 
 
 "It is not my intention to convey to you in this letter 
 all my impressions for this would be quite a difficult task 
 to accomplish. By giving you one of many charming 
 pictures of this place, I intend to give you, dear mother, 
 some approximate idea of it; and the rest I will tell you 
 when with you, probably some day next week. 
 
 "I hope you are well, dear mother. 
 
 "With best regards to all, I am 
 
 "Your 
 
 Having finished the reading, Miss Virginia placed the 
 letter in its envelope and returned it to Mrs. Milton, 
 saying : 
 
 "The description is very vivid indeed, and judging 
 from its tone Mr. Milton is enjoying his vacation greatly. 
 According to this letter the place is a real dreamland; 
 but of course we have to consider also the poetical dis 
 position of the writer. Mr. Milton always and in all 
 things sees more than others. But, will you tell me who 
 is this Count of whom Mr. Milton has such an exalted 
 opinion ?" 
 
 52
 
 THE EBELL. 
 
 "Count Morat is a very distinguished nobleman, whom 
 James met in Paris during the time of his stay there," 
 answered Mrs. Milton. "James is correct in saying that 
 I know his friend the Count for he has told me so much 
 about him. Strictly speaking the Count is a modern 
 philosopher. Besides he has traveled a great deal and 
 has lived in all parts of the world. Being gifted with 
 an extraordinary ability for observation he has acquired 
 a vast knowledge of human nature, and as such naturally 
 he is interesting." 
 
 "Undoubtedly he must be," remarked Miss Virginia. 
 "We do not meet men like that every day. I am sure 
 my aunt will be delighted to know him." 
 
 "And proselyte him for her Tuesdays," rejoined Mrs. 
 Milton. 
 
 "Quite possible," said Miss Virginia, smiling; "we all 
 like to hear an interesting discussion, don t you?" 
 
 "Of course I do," replied Mrs. Milton. "But now let 
 me ask you what do you think of the picture we saw 
 this morning?" 
 
 "I have no words to express my admiration for it." 
 replied Miss Virginia. "Although I am not an authority 
 to give an opinion on art, I will not hesitate to say that 
 this is a most remarkable reproduction of the original. 
 Did you notice that delicate shading so marvellously re 
 produced ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," answered Mrs. Milton; "how can you 
 escape noticing that fact when you know what a problem 
 you have to face when you want to make some delicate 
 embroidery for your own use?" 
 
 "That is it," remarked Miss Virginia. "In order to 
 appraise properly a production we must acquaint our- 
 
 53
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 selves with the technical difficulties that have to be dealt 
 with. In regard to this unique picture I have been think 
 ing while we were inspecting it, and I found that we have 
 to admire in it two different things; one is the art of 
 copying correctly the famous picture, and the other the 
 art of exercising an unlimited quantity of patience to 
 accomplish it. As for the first we have to take the opin 
 ion of art critics, who say that the reproduction is per 
 fect in all of its details. But when we come to the other 
 we do not need opinions of art critics for we ourselves 
 are the best judges of it. To think of the patience exer 
 cised by this German lady during seven long years to ac 
 complish her undertaking is a task quite accessible to any 
 woman; and were I asked which would I admire the 
 most, the art of copying with the needle instead of the 
 brush, or the art of exercising patience, I would say the 
 last had my greatest admiration." 
 
 "This is well said, my dear child," interrupted Mrs. 
 Milton; "but you have to add to patience another still 
 greater virtue perseverance." 
 
 "The one implies the other," said Miss Virginia. "Per 
 severance can not be exercised without patience; I know 
 this from my limited experience in life. Had I no pa 
 tience I could not have the perseverance required in my 
 daily work. So I can not help seeing that patience is 
 the most to be admired. 
 
 "You are talking just like yourself," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Milton. "Oh these analytical heads ! and now, were you 
 to give an object lesson on this subject what would you 
 say?" 
 
 "What would I say?" repeated Miss Virginia. "What 
 I would say would be a very simple lesson; first, learn
 
 THE EBELL. 
 
 to have patience. If this German lady had patience to 
 accomplish her work, why should not we have patience 
 enough to accomplish our daily work? Not everybody 
 can copy Rafael; but every woman can exercise enough 
 patience to make a success of all her undertakings, 
 whether in public or in home life." 
 
 "O how charming she is when she talks in a didactic 
 way," thought Mrs. Milton; and turning to her didactic 
 charmer, said: 
 
 "Now let us come to our daily life. When are we go 
 ing to have the promised French soiree, with the little 
 Corinne as debutante?" 
 
 "She is learning her part very nicely," replied Miss 
 Virginia, "and I hope she will send you her invitation 
 soon. But do you notice the great number of ladies com 
 ing all the while to see the picture?" 
 
 "Yes, I notice it and I am so pleased with it," an 
 swered Mrs. Milton. "It is a great work this our in 
 stitution is achieving. The members take so much inter 
 est in all that takes place in the Ebell, and that shows 
 how eager they are for culture and advancement in 
 knowledge. But I see it is getting late, so, au revoir, ma 
 cherie, and tell your aunt as soon as James comes home I 
 am coming out to see both of you." 
 
 "Do come; you know we are always delighted to see 
 you," said Miss Virginia, shaking the extended hand of 
 Mrs. Milton, and both left the Ebell club house for their 
 respective homes . 
 
 55
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 On fashionable Adams street, near St. James Park, 
 there is a two-story house built in Spanish Renaissance. 
 Surrounded by large and well kept grounds, with decora 
 tive trees, and a great variety of roses amidst luxuriously 
 growing ferns, the house, with its wide veranda, looks 
 very imposing and inviting. On the west corner of the 
 house there is a little tower, very symmetrically propor 
 tioned, which is partly covered with Bougainvillea glabra, 
 with its richly blooming purple flowers hanging around. 
 As though for a contrast, on the eastern corner is 
 overspread Wistaria Sinensis, with equally pretty white 
 flowers in full bloom. The Marechal Niel, forming an 
 arch on the entrance of the veranda, with its plentiful 
 deep golden roses, proudly is clamoring its superiority 
 above the low bush of Kaiserin, with its tea rose of a soft 
 pearly white color, tinged in the center with lemon, pro 
 fusely growing next to it. The dark red plushy Meteor 
 runs around the columns supporting the red tiled roof 
 of the veranda as though to give a delicate finishing 
 touch to the light yellow tinted background. 
 
 It is about the noon hour. In the large and comfort- 
 
 56
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 able library we find a middle aged lady, sitting on a sofa, 
 perusing a magazine. Opposite her we see a little girl 
 with curly hair engaged in reading. Before her stands 
 a little desk, evidently made purposely for her use, on 
 which we find a few school books and writing materials. 
 In the northern part of the room we notice a boy a little 
 older than the girl. He is a sort of a student mechanic. 
 He also has his own desk, which is covered with various 
 sorts of instruments and a number of paper and metal 
 tubes of different sizes. Seemingly he is trying to con 
 struct some sort of scientific instrument. He passes one 
 tube into another, puts glasses on both ends, and then 
 directs it to the front window of the library, which is 
 facing the street, and begins his observations. Upon dis 
 covering some imperfections, he quickly takes the glasses 
 off, separates the tubes, examines them, makes necessary 
 improvements, and puts them once more in the shape in 
 tended. 
 
 "Auntie," said the little girl, raising her pretty little 
 head and looking at the lady on the sofa, "I read in my 
 history that Columbus discovered America. Now, why 
 did not the people before Columbus discover America?" 
 
 Before her aunt could reply, the answer came from the 
 boy machinist : 
 
 "B-e-c-a-u-s-e people before Columbus did not know 
 geography," he said. 
 
 The little girl was greatly surprised on hearing such 
 an unexpected answer, and turning to the boy she asked : 
 
 "And why did they not know geography, can you tell 
 me?" 
 
 "B-e-c-a-u-s-e" the answer now came through the 
 tube he was adjusting, "there was no geography." 
 
 57
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 This seemingly evasive answer irritated the little girl. 
 She closed her little book impatiently, and turning to him 
 said with a marked resoluteness : 
 
 "Now you don t know the history, Camille. If you do, 
 tell me, if you please, why there was no geography?" 
 
 "B-e-c-a-U -s-e there was no America," replied the boy, 
 with the calmness of a grown mail. 
 
 The girl could not stay in her chair any longer, and 
 in a second she was on the sofa hugging her aunt and 
 asking her to explain why Camille gave such a stupid 
 answer. 
 
 By this time Camille had adjusted his improvised tele 
 scope, and now looking through it into the front window, 
 he evidently saw some one coming, for he suddenly 
 shouted "I see," and instantly dropped his instrument on 
 the floor, and with the swiftness of an arrow, ran to the 
 hall and out on the street. The girl, not knowing what 
 had happened and forgetting that she was on the sick 
 list, ran after him. When she reached the hall, she saw 
 through the open front door what attracted Camille. It 
 was her sister, Miss Virginia, who was coming. The 
 little girl ran to meet her, but before she reached the 
 front steps of the veranda, she found herself in the arms 
 of her sister. 
 
 "Hello, Corinne, how; do you feel today, sweetheart? 
 Are you better?" said Miss Virginia, kissing her affec 
 tionately. 
 
 "Yes, I am well, all well," said Corinne, with a smile 
 that expresses so much in a child. 
 
 "I am glad to hear that," said Miss Virginia, standing 
 on the veranda, and holding Corinne s little hand, "and 
 
 58
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 now," she continued, "tell me, what my little darling has 
 been doing all this forenoon while I was away." 
 
 "I was learning my French lesson, and " 
 
 "History," ended Camille wistfully. 
 
 "What history?" inquired Miss Virginia. "You better 
 tell me what you have been doing," she added, looking 
 at the boy who was trying to get hold of the little pack 
 age Miss Virginia held in her hand. 
 
 "I was fixing my new telescope and teaching Corinne 
 history," answered Camille in a most dignified manner. 
 
 "No, no; he was not teaching me history," protested 
 Corinne. "Camille said some things which are not to be 
 found in my book and I asked auntie about it, and 
 
 "Let us go to auntie and we will see what is the mat 
 ter," said Miss Virginia, entering the library with the 
 two children. 
 
 "Oh, how tired I feel," said Miss Virginia, putting her 
 hat on the table standing in the center of the room, and 
 turning to the lady still sitting on the sofa she inquired : 
 
 "What is it about this history that Corinne is so vigor 
 ously protesting against, auntie?" 
 
 Mrs. Pratt raised her eyeglasses and laughing heartily 
 said : 
 
 "Well, it is one of those sayings that Camille some 
 times produces so freely," and then she related the whole 
 conversation which took place between the children. 
 
 Miss Virginia took the nearest chair and Corinne ran 
 to her insisting that she should explain whether Camille 
 was right. 
 
 Forced to assume her customary role of a judge and 
 pacifier, after she had heard from her aunt all that was 
 said, Miss Virginia thought for a while and then ex- 
 
 59
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 plained to the fullest satisfaction of Corinne that Camille 
 was right in some respects, namely, that there was no 
 geography such as we have now before the discovery of 
 America, and that such a one could be made only after 
 the occurrence of that event. But of course Camille was 
 wrong in assuming that discovery could be made after 
 the new land was known. Then looking around she in 
 quired : 
 
 Where is Charley?" 
 
 "He is in the parlor mutilating Mozart," answered 
 Camille, stealthily looking at his aunt. 
 
 "Mutilating Mozart! What an expression! You 
 mean to say that he is playing Mozart s sonata," re 
 marked Miss Virginia. 
 
 "No, I mean just what auntie means," answered Ca 
 mille bravely. "When Charley plays that sonata of his, 
 auntie says that she pities Mozart being so mutilated by 
 Charley." 
 
 "Oh, well," said Miss Virginia, petting Corinne s little 
 hand resting on her knee. "Auntie simply means that 
 Charley does not play his sonata well; but he will," she 
 added. "I wish you were as good a musician as your 
 brother Charley is." 
 
 "And who is going to build the telescope, survey the 
 skies, and tell us all about the planets and stars?" said 
 Mrs. Pratt, looking at Camille. 
 
 "Look! look! Virginia," said Corinne, directing her 
 sister s attention to Camille s desk. "There he spent his 
 morning destroying the old telescope and not being able 
 to make a new one." 
 
 This was too much for Camille. He ran to his desk, 
 brought his newly made telescope, and pointing at it with 
 
 60
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 his forefinger said with the dignity becoming a professor : 
 
 It was through this telescope that I discovered you 
 coming home, Virginia; and if you only let me use that 
 tower on the corner of the house I will discover a good 
 many other things." 
 
 When Corinne heard about the tower, she jumped on 
 the floor and was ready to say something about the 
 menacing danger to the town in case her younger brother. 
 Camille, should establish his researches in it, but Charley 
 interrupted her, entering the room. 
 
 "Virginia," said Charley, "there was some one here 
 this morning inquiring about you." 
 
 "Some one inquiring about me?" repeated Miss Vir 
 ginia, trying to guess who that could be. 
 
 "Yes," said Charley, putting a pretty bouquet he had 
 brought with him in an empty Pompeian vase standing on 
 the table. 
 
 "It was Mr. Montgomery. He was here about an 
 hour ago, and when I told him you were not at home, 
 he said he would call again." 
 
 Hearing this name, Miss Virginia knit her brows, and 
 as though wishing to free herself of some unpleasant 
 thought, arose and went upstairs. But before she 
 reached her room the ringing of the door bell was heard, 
 and shortly Charley announced that Mr. Montgomery 
 was in the parlor wishing to see Miss Virginia. 
 
 This announcement caused one of those sensations 
 Miss Virginia often times had to combat vigorously. 
 She did not wish to see this man now in the parlor. Not 
 that she had any thing 1 particular against him, but simply 
 because he was one of those individuals who seldom had 
 anything interesting to say. Besides, owing to his in- 
 
 61
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 ability of thinking, his views in regard to problems of 
 life were those of a primitive man. Young, handsome, 
 and wealthy, he was a welcome guest among those who 
 saw the world running according to epicurean schedule. 
 Being accustomed to that sort of existence, he never 
 thought there could be anything but one aim in life, 
 which consisted in satisfying the so-called inborn inclina 
 tions in man. In his estimation the man who knew how 
 to satisfy his wants, his desires, was the greatest sage. 
 He saw the beginning of the man in his birth and the 
 end in his death. Life was too short to be devoted to 
 anything outside of what constituted the manner of liv 
 ing. Anything that passed the limits of that little hori 
 zon which he called "his life" was a hopelessly unsolv- 
 able dilemma, a chimera of fools, and he was not a fool. 
 This much he knew, and this knowledge satisfied him. 
 Wishing to be consistent with his own wisdom, he 
 governed himself accordingly, and little he thought of 
 those men and women who differed with him on those 
 matters. Amongst what he called necessities of life for 
 a man, he had benignantly included the love for a woman. 
 Of course not for any woman that he happened to 
 meet, but for a woman of his choice. Owing to his so 
 cial standing, he had a long list of pretty girls amongst 
 his acquaintances, many of whom would feel highly 
 honored had he wished to bestow upon any of them his 
 attentions. But due to some unexplainable fatality his 
 choice fell upon one who was not of the number men 
 tioned. The girl he had chosen was no one else but this 
 same Miss Virginia Gladston. He saw in her a beautiful 
 girl, an attractive girl, nothing but a girl. He knew 
 well that this object of his love was something far above 
 
 62
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 his level, and not easily obtainable; but he also knew that 
 he was nothing but a slave to his passion, and the object 
 of this passion was the girl he came to see. Was not he 
 young, handsome and rich ? Were not these qualities 
 before which any and all female legions would bow ? 
 
 Such was the personality of the man Miss Virginia 
 had to entertain in her home. She knew him and his as 
 pirations thoroughly well. She knew also that there 
 was nothing common between him and herself, and on 
 several occasions she tried to make him understand this, 
 but all was in vain. He showered upon her his atten 
 tions whenever circumstances permitted, in his crude and 
 grotesque way, which made him appear less gallant than 
 he intended to be. This annoyed Miss Virginia very 
 much, but her naturally gentle and kind disposition would 
 not permit her for a moment to be disagreeable towards 
 anybody, and especially toward those who claimed the 
 privilege of a friend, amongst whom this young man 
 had classified himself. She knew that she had at her 
 command the necessary amount of tact which would not 
 fail to protect her in the event of an undesirable situation, 
 and this was sufficient to enable her to face any foe. Be 
 sides, she had conceived a plan by which she intended 
 to defeat his aspirations, forcing him to a more reason 
 able consideration. The plan was to unfold before him 
 gradually his proper place in relation to herself, and 
 thus compel him to abandon his designs. This object in 
 view, Miss Virginia came down slowly and entered the 
 parlor. 
 
 "Hello, Miss Virginia," said Mr. Montgomery, when 
 he saw her entering the room. "How do you do this 
 morning?" he added, approaching her to shake hands.
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "I am very well, thank you," answered Miss Virginia, 
 motioning him to a chair. 
 
 Mr. Montgomery threw himself on the indicated chair, 
 awkwardly crossing his legs. He looked at Miss Vir 
 ginia, who was now seated on a sofa near the front win 
 dow, with an expression of a man who has lost his wit. 
 Finally he ventured to say: 
 
 "This is my second call today, Miss Virginia." 
 
 "May I ask, what caused you to take so much trouble?" 
 asked Miss Virginia, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Oh, no trouble at all," said Mr. Montgomery, adjust 
 ing a diamond ring on his left hand and looking wist 
 fully at her as though wishing to guess whether to pro 
 ceed with his subject or not. 
 
 "You know I am always delighted to see you, Miss 
 Virginia," he said. "I came today to ask whether you 
 would go with me to the Mason Opera House tonight. 
 There is a good company giving a fine play, When we 
 were twenty-one/ doncher know?" 
 
 "This is very kind of you," answered Miss Virginia, 
 "but you know I have not been to any amusement places 
 for the last two years, and really I have no desire to go 
 to one." 
 
 "That is too bad," remarked Mr. Montgomery. "It is 
 not natural to a young girl like you to lead such a se 
 cluded life as that. I noticed this when you refused to 
 go with me to the horse races and again to the circus. 
 But at that time I thought perhaps you did not like 
 amusements of that kind and that is why I concluded to 
 ask you to go with me to the theatre." 
 
 "It is not the kind of amusement that makes me take 
 the stand I have taken. It is a simple case of dislike to all 
 
 64
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 sorts of amusements, at least for the present," answered 
 Miss Virginia. 
 
 "But don t you think it abnormal for a girl of your 
 beauty, your talents and accomplishments, to refuse to 
 be amused ?" inquired Mr. Montgomery, with a smile in 
 dicating the supreme satisfaction of a moralist who has 
 just delivered a striking sentence. 
 
 Hearing this Miss Virginia knit her brow, which was 
 a sign of her displeasure, for she had an uncontrollable 
 abhorrence of all sorts of flattering expressions, especial 
 ly when they were delivered with the express intent to 
 arouse her vanity, of which she did not feel guilty. But 
 suddenly a thought came to her, why should she not util 
 ize this unintentionally given opportunity to show how 
 little meaning was attached to the words addressed to 
 her? 
 
 "Abnormal!" she repeated, turning a little statue of 
 Niobe standing on a small round table next to the sofa, 
 so as to have a view of its profile "Abnormal! Then 
 you think in order to make the life of an accomplished 
 girl normal, the gt>ing to theatres and similar places 
 must necessarily be on the program? If that is the case, 
 where is the merit of her accomplishment?" 
 
 "Why, the merit of her accomplishment is in the fact, 
 when she sees a good play, hears a good joke, she knows 
 how to appreciate, and enjoys them," answered Mr. 
 Montgomery. 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Montgomery," said Miss Virginia, 
 "but you are not answering my question. You are tell 
 ing me what an accomplished girl would do when she 
 sees a good play and hears a good joke. The question 
 I asked you is : where is the merit of the accomplishments 
 
 65
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 in a girl if going to theatres, races and circuses are a 
 necessity to her? That they are a necessity, you stated 
 clearly by saying that an accomplished girl s life would 
 be abnormal if she did not take interest in amusements 
 of the sort you mentioned. It must be a poorly accom 
 plished girl indeed, whose life without them is abnormal. 
 But from what you said I conclude, that we do not 
 understand the subject on hand in the same way. In 
 order to make the question clear, I would like to ask you, 
 what do you understand by the accomplishments of a 
 girl?" 
 
 "What I understand by it is simply this," answered 
 Mr. Montgomery. "A girl who has had a fair education, 
 who plays the piano, knows how to dress herself, knows 
 how to dance rather nicely and some other little things. 
 This is my idea of what we generally call an accomplished 
 girl." 
 
 "I see you are not extravagant in your requirements," 
 remarked Miss Virginia, "but evidently you forgot to 
 add to the above qualifications one which is very impor 
 tant, namely, that the accomplished girl must also know 
 how to please a gentleman! This type " 
 
 "Yes, indeed," interrupted Mr. Montgomery, smiling, 
 "you said just what I inadvertently omitted to say. Un 
 doubtedly in a girl the knowledge how to please a gen 
 tleman is the crown of her accomplishments." 
 
 "I thought so," said Miss Virginia, petting a large- 
 sized Maltese cat lying near her on the sofa. "If I am not 
 mistaken, I have a complete picture of an accomplished 
 girl of your make up. That girl sometimes likes to chew 
 gum, and she whistles like an old Dragon whenever and 
 wherever her fancy takes her. She also crosses her legs 
 
 66
 
 Miss Virginia in Her Eighteenth Year
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 while sitting in public places, and rides a horse like an 
 Arizona cow-boy. You don t mind that, do you ?" 
 
 "Oh, no; these are little things, and besides, whatever 
 a pretty girl does is always pretty, doncher know?" said 
 Mr. Montgomery, with a sort of contentment. 
 
 "Well," remarked Miss Virginia, still petting her Mal 
 tese cat, "This is exactly where we differ. I do not know 
 whether you would like to hear my opinion on the sub 
 ject ; nevertheless I venture to say that accomplishments 
 in a girl as I understand it is that which constitutes ex 
 cellence of mind and elegance of manners acquired by 
 education or training; but above all, self-contentment, 
 self-control, self-respect and love of home life, are the 
 main levers of an accomplished girl s life. Home life 
 presents such a great variety of field for the activity of a 
 girl, young or old, that if she puts in it her soul and 
 heart, attractions outside of home necessarily become 
 of secondary consideration ; and consequently there is no 
 danger of any sort of abnormality for her as you have 
 asserted. This I know too well. As for your estimation 
 of the subject it can be summed up in this : 
 Accomplishments have taken virtue s place 
 And wisdom falls before exterior grace ! 
 
 "This is too much of poetry," said Mr. Montgomery, 
 slowly curling his small mustache. "A girl cannot stay 
 home all the time ; she must go out, meet people and en 
 joy life." 
 
 "Enjoy life!" That is another phrase which might be 
 interpreted in a thousand ways," said Miss Virginia. 
 "In order to know what is the enjoyment of life, one 
 must first have a defined idea of life itself." 
 
 "Simplest thing in the world," answered Mr. Mont- 
 
 67
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 gomery, in a careless manner. "Live the best you can, that 
 is satisfy your wants, follow your inclinations, and en 
 joy the results." 
 
 "Satisfy your wants, follow your inclinations!" re 
 peated Miss Virginia thoughtfully. Then raising the 
 well formed head of her Maltese cat in both hands, and 
 looking at it attentively, she continued; "This is ex 
 actly what Fedo does. When he is hungry, he goes to 
 the kitchen and through his mewing he gets what he 
 wants. Then he runs in search of a mouse just for fun ; 
 and sometimes he attempts to catch the birds in the air, 
 and he is content. You see, he satisfies his wants and fol 
 lows his inclinations. Is not he strictly following the sys 
 tem you are advocating?" 
 
 "Well, but Pedo is a cat. I am speaking of man," re 
 marked Mr. Montgomery. 
 
 Here Miss Virginia burst into merry laughter, and 
 turning to him said gaily : 
 
 "Now, Mr. Montgomery, I am very serious about 
 what I am going to ask you. Can you tell me the dif 
 ference between this cat and yourself?" 
 
 Mr. Montgomery looked greatly surprised, and a 
 forced smile on his face indicated the absence of all 
 thought. But in order to say something he murmured, 
 looking at his watch; 
 
 "Oh, well, you turn the thing into a joke; but I see it 
 is getting late and I must go." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Virginia, in a hilarious tone, "I will 
 not detain you, Mr. Montgomery, but before you leave, 
 you must promise me to think about the subject, and the 
 next time you see me, you will kindly give me your solu 
 tion." 
 
 68
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 "Solution of what?" inquired Mr. Montgomery, some 
 what discouraged. 
 
 "The solution of my question, namely ; can you find the 
 difference between my cat and your man, and if you do, 
 you must tell me in what that difference consists." 
 
 By this time Mr. Montgomery was in the hall. He 
 took his hat hastily, and saying good by, ran to the side 
 walk, where his automobile with his chauffeur was wait 
 ing for him. He took his seat in the car, gave instruc 
 tions to his man and shortly disappeared behind the wil 
 low trees, turning to a side street. 
 
 "You seem to have enjoyed the visit," said Mrs. Pratt, 
 when she saw Miss Virginia entering the library. "We 
 have been waiting for you to lunch." 
 
 "Yes, I have been greatly amused," answered Miss 
 Virginia, following her aunt into the dining room, and 
 taking her seat. The little Corinne ran to her holding 
 her napkin in her hand, which Miss Virginia spread on 
 her chest, fastening its two corners behind her shoulders 
 with a pin, and helping her to the chair on her right hand 
 side. Camille took his seat on her left and Charley sat 
 next to his aunt on the opposite side of the table. 
 
 "Amused with what?" inquired Mrs. Pratt, helping 
 herself from the dish served by the maid. 
 
 "Amused with the reasoning of a modern man who 
 knows little of the importance of what he says," an 
 swered Miss Virginia. 
 
 "You mean Mr. Montgomery; but by-the-way, will 
 you tell me what was his object in coming here twice 
 today?" inquired Mrs. Pratt again. 
 
 "Oh, one of those objects which fill the empty life of 
 that class of men to which Mr. Montgomery belongs. 
 
 69
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 But auntie," said Miss Virginia, "I have to tell you 
 something more interesting than the conversation with 
 Mr. Montgomery." Here she gave an interesting narra 
 tive of her visit of that morning to the Ebell club house. 
 She described the embroidered picture she saw there so 
 vividly that Mrs. Pratt decided to go and see it the next 
 day. She also told her aunt that she met Mrs. Milton, 
 who inquired about her and promised to visit them soon, 
 and ended by summarizing the contents of the letter she 
 read in which Mr. Milton described his trip to Tallac 
 Mountain and his meeting there an old friend of his. 
 
 "This friend of Mr. Milton," added Miss Virginia, 
 "who happens to be a nobleman of note, is coming to lo 
 cate in Los Angeles and I hope you will invite him to 
 our Tuesdays, auntie." 
 
 "I hope so," answered Mrs. Pratt. As soon as we are 
 able to resume our literary meetings I am going to see 
 Mrs. Milton about it, and hope we shall enjoy the pres 
 ence of this interesting gentleman." 
 
 While Miss Virginia was conversing with her aunt, 
 the children were listening attentively. But, judging 
 from the haste with w r hich they were consuming their 
 midday meal, it was easy to conclude that they had their 
 little affairs in view regarding the afternoon hours. Char 
 ley was planning to spend his afternoon on the public 
 play grounds where an interesting performance of his 
 young friends was promised. Camille was anxious to 
 see the big movable telescope, then temporarily stationed 
 on Broadway in order to observe the big spots on the sun. 
 Corinne was of the opinion that she was entitled to 
 spend her afternoon with the little girl of her age living 
 next door. But, according to the established rule, all 
 
 70
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 these projects had to be submitted to the approval and 
 sanction of Miss Virginia, who was exercising the author, 
 ity of their mother. Knowing well how to promote their 
 interests effectively before leaving the table, each one of 
 them presented his case in such a charming way, that 
 Miss Virginia willingly acceded to their wishes, and as 
 soon as they were ready they parted with that happy 
 thoughtlessness which is proper to their age. 
 
 After the children had gone, Mrs. Pratt made a few 
 remarks in regard to the household affairs, and follow 
 ing her habit, she retired to enjoy a little siesta. 
 
 Left alone, Miss Virginia went to her room, which 
 was located on the second floor, on the eastern corner 
 of the house. One of its large windows faced the east, 
 through which the first smiling rays of the continually 
 bright California sun, every morning announced the be 
 ginning of the day. The white flowers of Wistaria 
 Sinensis hanging around the window entirely covering 
 its frame, made it appear from the outside as though this 
 was an opening to some enchanted spot. The appear 
 ance was fully justified, for this was the prettiest part 
 of the house. Entering the room. Miss Virginia went 
 directly to the little working desk she had for her ex 
 clusive use. The first thing she noticed was a pretty 
 little bouquet of bright white roses known as Bride, 
 freshly put there in a small vase masterfully painted by 
 hand. She looked at the bouquet with an expression of 
 delight. "It is the work of one of the children one of 
 my children," thought Miss Virginia. "They love me." 
 she went on thinking, "all three of them love me tender 
 ly, but oh, how little they know how much I love them." 
 Then seated on her chair, she took the writing paper on 
 
 71
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 which one half of the page was already written. It was 
 an essay on "Applied Pedagogy," that she was writing 
 for her own instruction. In order to refresh her memory, 
 she took a book from the pretty little book-case standing 
 next to her. This was a French author whose views on 
 the subject she was analyzing, giving to it a form which 
 she thought would be more practicable, at least in her 
 own case. After consulting the book, and while putting 
 it back to its place her eyes caught sight of a small oaken 
 box resting on the top shelf of the book-case. Simultan 
 eously an awakened thought began its workings through 
 her mind which caused a radical change in her counten 
 ance. From being quiet and self-possessed, she became 
 disturbed and erratic. After some hesitation, she took 
 the box with an unsteady hand, put it on her desk, and 
 opened it with a little key she kept in a secret drawer. 
 Then she took out of it a big bunch of letters tied to 
 gether with a red ribbon. The appearance of the letters 
 and that of the ribbon indicated that they were of an old 
 date. Evidently she intended to untie the ribbon in order 
 to examine the letters, but before she had time to do so, 
 her hand holding the bundle dropped heavily on the 
 desk. She raised her head and now was gazing through 
 the window she was facing. Her face assumed an ex 
 pression of indescribable sadness and calm suffering. 
 She sighed deeply and for the moment was lost in her 
 revery. Gradually her face inflamed with color, and her 
 intelligent eyes were filled with moisture. In a second 
 her face was buried in her handkerchief held in both 
 hands, and her classically chiseled head dropped on the 
 desk. She remained in this posture for a few seconds. 
 Suddenly, as though by a shock, she arose brusquely, 
 
 72
 
 MISS VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 passed her handkerchief over her face, drying her eyes. 
 Then she took the bunch of letters and without untying 
 put it back in the box and returned it to its place. Now 
 her expression became virile ; in place of sadness and de 
 spondency, a resolute decision denoting fortitude and 
 self-possession made itself manifest. She took the pen 
 lying before her and began to write nervously, with an 
 agitation clearly indicating her determination not to give 
 up to the sentiments which a little while ago so merciless 
 ly shook her whole heart and soul. This state of agita 
 tion however was not of long duration, for shortly she 
 felt utterly exhausted, and rising from her seat she 
 sought needful repose in a restorative sleep. 
 
 73
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 What was going on in the soul of this charming girl ? 
 What was it that so mercilessly moved her to heart-break 
 ing sadness and tears ? That bunch of letters she seemed 
 to be afraid to untie and gaze upon, did it contain the 
 cruel missive conveying the dismal tidings which tor 
 tured her every time she thought of it? 
 
 In order to unfold this mysterious cause of her intense 
 sufferings, we must go back to the epoch when these let 
 ters came into existence and acquaint ourselves with the 
 history of the family. 
 
 Her father, Edward B. Gladston, was a literary man. 
 He was born in Richmond, Virginia, where he spent his 
 boyhood days with his parents. His father was an 
 Englishman, who while a young man had come and set 
 tled in that city. When Edward had graduated from the 
 school of his native city, the question arose, as to what 
 direction should be given to complete his higher educa 
 tion. For some reasons known only to his father, Charles 
 Gladston, he was sent to England to attend Oxford 
 University. Edward being the only child, his father 
 wished to give him the best obtainable training; and 
 
 74
 
 GLADS TON FAMILY. 
 
 whether it was because he thought, that Oxford Uni 
 versity was the best institution of learning, or because 
 it was his own Alma Mater, he decided to have his son 
 Edward graduated there. Besides he had a brother in 
 London, the only member of his family living, who had 
 no children, and was only too glad to have his nephew, 
 the young American, under his tutelage. Thus the 
 proper arrangements were made and under the direction 
 of his uncle, Edward entered the said University. While 
 there, he developed an extraordinary liking for Arch 
 aeology, and having selected for his special study the art 
 of deciphering the Egyptian and Assyrian cuneiform in 
 scriptions, he soon made excellent progress in that direc 
 tion and became a qualified expert on the subject. Fin 
 ally, after his graduation, he came back to his native 
 country, where shortly he met the lady of his heart, Miss 
 Clara Buckingham, and married her. After two years of 
 happy married life, he received a communication from 
 his uncle in London stating that the British Archaeologi 
 cal Society had decided to send two experts in Assyrian 
 Antiquities to attend the excavations, then in operation in 
 a locality called Nemrud near the city of Mosul, in Asi 
 atic Turkey and in this connection his name, as that of 
 the best expert in Assyrian cuneiform inscriptions, had 
 been mentioned, and if he wished, he could obtain the ap 
 pointment. To this query, he immediately answered that 
 he would be only too glad to be one of the commission, 
 and a couple of months later, he took his wife with him 
 and went to London, w r here the details were arranged to 
 his satisfaction, and shortly, in company with Professor 
 A. G. Norton, of London, and his wife they started for 
 their destination. It was of necessity that they should 
 
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 first go to Constantinople, where, through the offices of 
 the English Embassy, they obtained the necessary docu 
 ments from the Turkish Government in order to secure 
 proper protection for their safety from the local govern 
 ments, through the Turkish territory where they had to 
 travel. An English steamer took them from Constanti 
 nople to Alexandretta, a small sea-port on the Mediter 
 ranean. From that city they traveled on horseback with 
 a specially organized caravan, crossing the cities of Alep 
 po, Orfa, Merdin, Jesireh, and finally after thirty-five 
 days tedious travel, they reached their future headquar 
 ters, the city of Mosul. From this city Mr. Gladston and 
 Prof. Norton made their periodical trips to the place 
 where excavations were going on, and which is known 
 as Nemrud. The results of the discoveries made there 
 are well known to the Archaeologists of Europe and 
 America. The large plates with the Assyrian cuneiform 
 inscriptions and bas-reliefs of the epoch of Nineveh ex 
 cavated in Nemrud are to be found in great number in 
 the British Museum in London, besides those few to be 
 seen in the city of Mosul. After the two years stay 
 there, Mr. Gladston, having ended his commission, re 
 turned to London with his wife, where they spent several 
 weeks enjoying the hospitality of his uncle, and finally 
 they came back to their native city of Richmond. When 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gladston arrived home, there was great 
 joy in the family, for this young couple presented their 
 aged parents with a charming little baby girl, about seven 
 months old, whom they had named after their own 
 native land, Virginia. After this, Mr. Gladston made 
 several trips to Europe and Asia in the interest of the 
 subject to which he was devoting his entire time and 
 
 76
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 labor. In the meantime his family continued to live in 
 the city of Richmond. Several years elapsed in the en 
 joyment of peaceful life by this Virginian family, which 
 by this time had increased in number, for they had two 
 more children, two robust and well formed boys. But 
 unfortunately for the family, Mr. Gladston, as a result 
 of his constant travels, contracted a complication of dis 
 eases, and was forced to look for a more suitable climate. 
 His parents being dead, he disposed of all his consider 
 able property in Richmond, and permanently settled with 
 his family in Los Angeles. He built the exceedingly com 
 fortable house where we found his children living. Hard 
 ly were they established in their new home, when the 
 youngest child, the little Corinne, was born to them. 
 This joyful event, however, was shortly marred by 
 the inevitable death of Mr. Gladston. It was a great 
 sorrow to the family, indeed, for he was a good and af 
 fectionate husband, and a tender loving father. Three 
 years after the death of the father, another much more 
 momentous sorrow befell the family. This time it was 
 Mrs. Gladston, who followed her beloved husband, leav 
 ing her children orphans. When this happened, Miss 
 Virginia was in her eighteenth year, Charley was only 
 nine. Camille six, and Corinne in her fourth year. These 
 events undoubtedly would have produced deplorable re 
 sults upon Miss Virginia, who now became the head of 
 the family, were it not for the fact, that her aunt, Mrs. 
 Pratt, a sister of her mother, formerly Miss Frances 
 Buckingham, after the death of her short-lived husband, 
 had made her home with the Gladston family. As an 
 elderly person, she became a sort of guardian over the 
 bereaved children of her sister. 
 
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 Here begins the life of Miss Virginia. 
 
 Up to this time, among happy girls she was the hap 
 piest. Naturally of a cheerful disposition, she was sun 
 shine wherever she happened to be. At home she was 
 the central figure of all that constituted family life. An 
 idolized child as she was, without her everything seemed 
 dormant and inactive. Gifted with what people call 
 "natural abilities," free of care, nothing to interfere with 
 her pleasures and desires, she followed her inclinations, 
 cultivating those branches of her education which she 
 liked the best. She loved science and art and took great 
 delight in exploring them. Following the advice of her 
 mother, who, while traveling in, foreign countries, had 
 learned how to value a knowledge of foreign languages, 
 she had learned French almost to perfection. All these 
 occupations however did not interfere with her training 
 in things pertaining to home life. But now that there 
 was no father and no mother, who would take care of 
 these three children? In the hours of her depressing 
 sorrow, before the remains of her mother disappeared 
 from the house forever, she went for a last farewell. 
 There she was lying, cold and rigid ; yet, she thought 
 she heard her mother speaking to her, yes, she thought 
 she heard her mother s wishes, and promptly replied, look 
 ing at the now pallid face before her; "Yes, dear 
 mother," she murmured tenderly, "I understand you, and 
 I promise you solemnly, faithfully, I will take your place ; 
 I will follow your footsteps to the last moment of my 
 life. I will draw my courage and fortitude out of the 
 love for you, which you have planted in my heart." 
 Warm tears covering her youthful face were the only 
 witnesses of this solemn promise of a loving daughter. 
 
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 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 After this, when nothing but sweet remembrances of her 
 mother were left to her, she laid aside all that pertained 
 to her person, in fact forgot her own personality, and de 
 cided to give all her time devotedly, tenderly, to the care 
 and education of her little sister and her two brothers. 
 Her unusual attachment, her fondness and incessant care, 
 made these children feel that they had now a mother as 
 good, as tender, as the one they had lost. Her father s 
 financial affairs, as he had left them, were in such good 
 condition that there was no reason for any anxiety on 
 that account. Thus having entered upon her new role of 
 a mother, Miss Virginia gradually forgot all about the 
 world, for her own home became her whole world. She 
 had many ardent admirers amongst the golden youth, 
 who, with an unmistakable assurance presented an allur 
 ing future to the young girl; but lo, Miss Virginia was 
 far from considering any such change in her life. She 
 had now an unalterable aim she wished to live for. She 
 had to perform her duty which she assumed on the day 
 she lost her mother. From time to time she thought 
 she saw her mother looking at her from the heavens 
 above, saying to her; "Virginia, dear child, remember 
 your promise; take care of my little darling Corinne; do 
 not abandon my boys." To this she answered promptly 
 with all her heart and soul, "No, sweet mother, I will not 
 leave these children, for anything in the world ; for any 
 treasures, for any joys. I shall fulfill my promise to you 
 faithfully. I have taken your place and will perform my 
 sacred duty with all the powers of my entity." Every 
 time she renewed this promise to her mother, she felt 
 happier, and as though a new life reanimated her whole 
 being. When she needed the advice of an older person, 
 
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 she turned to her aunt, and this was a great help to her. 
 "What a joy to watch and observe day after day, this 
 little angel, this little Corinne, progressing so nicely ! 
 What a satisfaction to follow Camille, this little lover of 
 science and its wonders! What a delight and comfort 
 to note the splendid growth of Charley! A few more 
 years and he will be a man, a big man. Then he will 
 take the place of his father, of our father, and will take 
 care of all of us." These were the most delightful 
 thoughts that constantly occupied Miss Virginia s mind. 
 Four years elapsed in this revery of the future. But, 
 alas, another terrible blow was destined to shatter the 
 peaceful life of this now cheerful girl. 
 
 In the splendidly furnished parlor there was an ex 
 cellent life size picture of Mr. Gladston hanging on the 
 wall. This crayon picture was made in London, after 
 his first trip to the orient. One day Miss Virginia, look 
 ing at that picture while the rest of the family were pres 
 ent, sighed deeply and said to her aunt : 
 
 "What a pity we have not a similar picture of my 
 mother. How is it, auntie, that she never had her pic 
 ture made?" 
 
 "Well, my child," answered Mrs. Pratt, "your mother 
 never liked her own picture taken. This picture of your 
 father was made expressly to meet her wishes. Rut 
 when your father insisted on having her picture taken, 
 she absolutely refused." 
 
 "But, auntie," interrupted Miss Virginia, "is it possible 
 that there is no picture of my mother at all? It might 
 have been taken while she was with other people on some 
 public occasion. Don t you remember anything of the 
 sort?" 
 
 80
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 "No, child ; I do not remember anything of the kind," 
 answered Mrs. Pratt, "but I do remember an incident 
 when her picture was taken with your father. One day 
 they went to Santa Monica; that was before Corinne 
 was born. They had gone into a tent on the sea shore, 
 where they were making tin-types; and as though for 
 fun, your father made her stand with him, and a tin 
 type was taken. When they came home, she showed it 
 to me." 
 
 "And what became of that tin-type?" Miss Virginia 
 interrupted again anxiously. "Tell me, please, what be 
 came of it? If I can find it I will have it enlarged and 
 something made of it." 
 
 "Now, really, I do not know what became of that 
 tin-type," said Mrs. Pratt, somewhat hesitatingly. "Look 
 amongst the papers your mother had in her drawer ; per 
 haps you will find it there." 
 
 This was enough to set Miss Virginia at work. She 
 immediately went to her mother s room, which had been 
 unoccupied since her death. This room was for her a 
 sanctuary where the dearest remembrances of the past 
 were centered. Everything was left in its place the same 
 as it was during the lifetime of her mother. She opened 
 the drawers where her mother used to keep things she did 
 not wish to see in the hands of any of the family. She 
 looked over all the papers carefully, and could not find 
 the picture she was in search of. She reported this to 
 her aunt and asked her to see whether she, her aunt, could 
 not find it somewhere amongst her papers. 
 
 The day passed quietly, but Miss Virginia had no 
 peace. This thought that her mother s picture, even 
 though on a tin-type, could be found in the house, pur- 
 
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 sued her all day long. Finally the evening came and 
 when the children were gone to their respective beds and 
 her aunt retired, Miss Virginia entered her mother s 
 room to make another effort in search of the picture. 
 After having ransacked all hiding places with no success, 
 she opened once more a drawer in a mahogany dresser, 
 took a mass of papers out of it and spread them out on 
 the table standing near by. She had examined these 
 papers before and great was her surprise when she found 
 a bunch of letters put together and tied with a red rib 
 bon. This was something new to her. She untied the 
 ribbon, and taking each letter separately, examined its 
 contents. Singularly enough these letters were kept in 
 their envelopes just as they had been received, as though 
 to tell the story of their peregrinations. They were let 
 ters her father had written to her mother, and also some 
 of the letters her mother had written to her father while 
 he was traveling in foreign countries. Looking over 
 them, she momentarily forgot that she was searching 
 for her mother s picture, and began reading with that 
 filial affection which is experienced only by those who 
 love their parents. O, how many lofty and dignified 
 sentiments these letters contained! Here she began to 
 understand the tender relations that existed between her 
 parents. Then she recollected that they were no more. 
 "No more? oh no!" some unknown inner consciousness 
 protested. "That cannot be so. The powerful intelli 
 gence which produced so many lofty feelings, expressed 
 in such a manner as contained in these writings, could 
 it die, perish, be annihilated, leaving no trace, no shadow 
 of its entity? Can this be possible, No! a thousand 
 times no! The soul must be more powerful than the 
 
 82
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 power of destruction. They live; they are present here; 
 but oh, why, why can I not see them ? Why can I not con 
 verse with them?" Then she proceeded again with the 
 perusal of the letters. She read and reread many of 
 them and piously put them back in their envelopes as a 
 precious relic to be preserved in remembrance of those 
 departed. Then she took the next letter, opened it, and 
 began to read in the same devotional way as she 
 did the others. On a sudden she felt a terrible shock. 
 She opened her eyes widely, and read once more the 
 lines she had been reading. She looked carefully at 
 the envelope and observed the date. It was her 
 father s handwriting without any doubt. It was dated 
 in London but what does that mean? and again 
 she read the lines, now slowly word by word; 
 imagine my surprise" her father was writing to 
 her mother "when the other day unexpectedly I met 
 Prof. Norton in the British Museum arranging the new 
 tablets that recently had come from the orient, and do 
 you know what were his first words to me ? The moment 
 he saw me he said ; How is your adopted daughter 
 Here, her hands holding the sinister missive dropped 
 heavily on the table. "What? Adopted daughter!" 
 she repeated time and again. "Who is this adopted 
 daughter of my father ? What does that mean ? Adopted 
 daughter!" she repeated, and her tears came like a 
 torrent. "Is that I? Is that adopted daughter myself?" 
 Saying this, and acting under the powerful pressure of 
 momentary impulse, she ran to her aunt s room to ask 
 the meaning of these words. She traversed the hall 
 quickly, and reached the door. She put her hand on the 
 handle, and in a second she would have been in her aunt s 
 
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 presence but suddenly she stopped, as though obeying 
 the command of an invisible force. After a second s re 
 flection she turned back to her mother s room, and throw 
 ing herself on the chair, gave way to her tears. She re 
 mained in this condition for some time ; but after awhile, 
 she tried to calm and compose herself, and finally, she 
 began to think and ask herself, why had she been cry 
 ing? Was there any reason for this sort of despair? 
 Now a calm reasoning process got hold of her brain. 
 "Let me examine this letter again," she thought, looking 
 critically at the paper in her hand. "This letter has been 
 dated in London. Yes, this was the year when papa 
 went to Europe alone. It was his first trip after my 
 birth. Yes, the handwriting is that of my father; thert 
 is not the slightest doubt about it. Now, who is this 
 Prof. Norton? This is the gentleman connected with 
 the Archaeological Society of London, in whose com 
 pany my parents traveled to the East where I was born; 
 and this man, who knew my parents before and after 
 my birth, speaks of an adopted daughter of my father. 
 Then, he knew that my father had an adopted daughter, 
 a child of unknown parents, a foundling oh, terrible, 
 terrible to think of it! If my father had a daughter at 
 that time it was myself; there is no doubt about this fact. 
 Therefore that adopted daughter was no one else but I. 
 Then I am not the child of my parents? Oh dear, dear 
 mother she burst into bitter tears again and fell 
 insensible on the floor. 
 
 It was late in the night when Miss Virginia came to 
 herself. She looked around as though to grasp the situ 
 ation, and not wishing to betray herself, she gathered 
 the mass of papers on the table and put them back in 
 
 84
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 their original place. Then she took the bunch of letters 
 she found tied together to her room and put it in a small 
 oaken box of her own, locked it and hid the key in a sec 
 ret drawer of her desk. Miss Virginia s room was very 
 large. Besides her bed, there was another of smaller 
 size, on which Corinne slept. After she had disposed of 
 the letters, she approached the bed of her sister, looked 
 at her tenderly, kissed her affectionately, and retired. 
 
 Useless to say that she spent a sleepless night. 
 
 Next morning Miss Virginia had a terrible headache 
 and felt very much exhausted. She was forced to stay 
 in her bed all that day. On the early morning when 
 Corinne arose and found her sister seemingly asleep, 
 which was a very unusual thing for her to see, for Miss 
 Virginia was an early riser, she went quietly to her aunt 
 and said that Virginia must be ill for she was still in bed. 
 Immediately Mrs. Pratt came to see her. Miss Virginia, 
 who was awakened from a momentary slumber by the 
 noise caused by Corinne, when she saw her aunt, ex 
 plained to her, that she had passed a very bad night, and 
 now her headache made her unable to get up. Hearing 
 this Mrs. Pratt advised her to stay in bed and rest. When 
 Mrs. Pratt was gone, Miss Virginia began to review the 
 happenings of the night before. She felt like crying 
 again, but for fear she would betray herself, she kept 
 quiet and started to reason. "It was a good thing," she 
 thought, "I did not go to my aunt last night. After all, 
 I may be altogether mistaken," she went on thinking. "It 
 is true this statement of my father s having an adopted 
 daughter, I read in his own handwriting, but he wrote 
 this as a sentence of Prof. Norton and not his own. This 
 may be a reference to something else, or simply a joke. 
 
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 Besides, before he wrote down the sentence of Prof. Nor 
 ton, he expressed himself as being surprised ; for he start 
 ed by saying: Imagine my surprise. This might be 
 construed as relating to the unexpected meeting of that 
 gentleman, but it might as well be in relation to the sen 
 tence in question. At any rate, it could not mean that 
 my father really had an adopted daughter, because he 
 had none; for suppose if I were that adopted child, would 
 not people know something about it? Besides, would 
 not my own parents betray the fact in some way or 
 other? Would not they naturally see and mark the dif 
 ference between the rest of the chldren and me? No, it 
 is simply absurd to admit for a moment that I am not a 
 child of my dear papa, and my sweet mamma. In regard 
 to my aunt," Miss Virginia continued her reasoning, 
 "oh, what a goose would I have made of myself, hadi I 
 gone and asked her, whether I was not the child of my 
 parents! Besides, if actually I am not which is not so 
 she never betrayed it in any way all of these years she 
 has been living with us, and would she tell me the truth 
 now? No, she certainly would have to invent some con 
 venient answer to satisfy me, for she would never tell 
 me the truth. This being the case, of what use would it 
 be, had I asked her such a question? No. This way 
 does not lead to any solution, and the worst of it is, that 
 I do not know of any other which might furnish the de 
 sired explanation. In the meantime it is best to keep 
 this mystery to myself alone and see if I can not dis 
 cover something which might lead to a final solution. 
 Until then, this shall remain my own secret." This rea 
 soning calmed Miss Virginia to a certain degree, but her 
 peace had gone. 
 
 86
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 After this awful experience, Miss Virginia became 
 very sad, taciturn and betrayed an inclination for a se 
 cluded life. She never went to any places of amusement. 
 She lost interest in all things foreign to her domestic 
 life. She loved dearly her little sister Corinne, and this 
 was a great consolation to her. She took great interest 
 in the welfare of the two boys, and she was rewarded by 
 their attachment and love. Upon entering into this new 
 phase of her sad life, she invented all sorts of occupa 
 tions in her home life, in order to silence her sufferings 
 and her longings for the unfolclment of this unexplain- 
 able mystery. Two years passed since the discovery of 
 that fatal letter and Miss Virginia never spoke of it to 
 any one. During this time she made researches in a very 
 guarded way, especially while conversing with her aunt 
 about family affairs, but all was in vain. From all that 
 she could learn up to this time, there was no reason what 
 ever for the corroboration of her surmise that the state 
 ment of the fatal letter concerned herself. Yet she could 
 not dismiss the thought, which tortured her constantly. 
 She tried to forget it, but every time she saw the box 
 containing those letters her sufferings increased. She re 
 belled stoutly against all thoughts suggesting destruc 
 tion of that letter. That would not do, for even if it 
 were destroyed, the remembrance of its contents would 
 still remain. 
 
 Besides, in connection with what she knew, Miss Vir 
 ginia recollected that her aunt, who never had any secret 
 from her, had a drawer in her dresser which she always 
 kept locked, and never allowed Miss Virginia to know 
 its contents. This little observation which had no sig 
 nificance whatever before, now became for her a very im- 
 
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 portant matter. What was in that drawer that her aunt 
 kept under her watchful eyes? Many times Miss Vir 
 ginia searched the room looking for some things that 
 were missed by her aunt. She was permitted to look 
 into the most hidden corners, but every time she tried to 
 open that one particular drawer, she was told not to do 
 it. On one occasion Miss Virginia asked her aunt, what 
 was in that drawer she always kept locked? To which 
 Mrs. Pratt replied, that there were some papers strictly 
 of a personal nature, which she did not wish to have 
 examined. This answer did not satisfy Miss Virginia, 
 for she knew the life of her aunt thoroughly well in all 
 details. Her aunt spoke of herself and things concern 
 ing her life very freely to Miss Virginia. Their rela 
 tions being almost those of a mother and a daughter, 
 there was no place for any secrecy, especially when this 
 concerned some papers. No matter how important, they 
 could not be more so than the things she knew regarding 
 her aunt s life, and this greatly mystified her. 
 
 Following the established custom of Mrs. Gladston, 
 they kept an open house. Mrs. Pratt noticing the un 
 usual change in her niece, and not suspecting the real 
 cause of it, in order to distract her had gathered a few 
 congenial friends who regularly came to spend an even 
 ing with them once a week. This was known as Mrs. 
 Pratt s Tuesday. At these gatherings they discussed 
 problems of vital importance. In the selection Mrs. 
 Pratt had made were a few ladies and several gentle 
 men, all of them of excellent education and lovers of 
 learning. These aroused Miss Virginia s interest, and 
 she became more lively, devoting much of her time to 
 special studies in order to equip herself with sufficient 
 
 88
 
 GLADSTON FAMILY. 
 
 knowledge which would enable her to take an active part 
 in the discussions on matters brought before such gather 
 ings. 
 
 It was about this time that we found Miss Virginia 
 in her room, once more tempted to inspect the letter that 
 caused her such intense suffering. That was due to her 
 morning visit to the Ebell Club House. While she was 
 contemplating the admirable picture of Rafael, she was 
 much impressed with the subject. It represented ma 
 ternity. There was a mother, pure and holy. She held 
 the infant, her child, her only offspring, with that ma 
 ternal love which belongs only to pure mothers. How 
 pretty, how elevating was this sentiment ! "Oh, yes, ma 
 ternity is divine!" she exclaimed. While so contemplat 
 ing, naturally she thought of her own mother. "She also 
 was so good, so unselfish and so unexhausted in her 
 motherly love." Then suddenly came to her mind that 
 ominous letter which told her that the mother she had 
 been thinking of was not her own. This disturbed her 
 immensely, and when she came home, the little incident 
 that followed made her forget about her sorrow momen 
 tarily; but when she found herself alone in her own room 
 and she saw the box containing that letter, she wanted 
 to examine it again in hope that this time she might per 
 haps discover something establishing its unreliability. 
 We saw her taking the pack of her father s letters, but 
 she was not able to gaze upon its contents for the fear 
 that she might instead of solving the mystery, be more 
 strongly convinced of its truth, and this reasoning made 
 her conclude not to open it. "Better suffer in doubt than 
 to face the bitter truth," she thought. Her suffering was 
 greater, owing to the fact that she had determined to 
 
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 keep this mysterious discovery to herself. But, after all, 
 there was some one who comforted her very much. She 
 thought she heard some distant voice, coming as it were 
 from superior regions and telling her: "Do not despair, 
 child ; wait ; have patience. The solution of the mystery 
 will come in due time. You will know it soon ; very 
 soon. Be calm; all will be well." 
 
 "This consoling voice surely must be of my dear 
 mother," thought Miss Virginia, and she resolved to wait 
 patiently and calmly to learn the truth. 
 
 90
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 In a brilliantly illuminated room Count Morat sat 
 alone smoking his long Turkish pipe. The comfortable 
 house which the Count had occupied immediately after 
 his arrival in Los Angeles was located on Alvarado 
 street. He had passed a very busy day, having made 
 several visits in town. His first, and the most important 
 call, however, was that on Mrs. Milton, which he consid 
 ered a particularly pleasing function, owing to his friend 
 ly relations with her son. While there he met and be 
 came acquainted with Rev. B. Y. Darling, D. D., for 
 merly a colleague of Mr. Milton and now Rector of a 
 fashionable Episcopalian church in the city, who happen 
 ed to be there at the time. Devoid of that peculiar stiff 
 ness and uncalled for haughtiness which frequently is 
 displayed by some men in clerical garb, Dr. Darling im 
 pressed the Count with his simplicity and modesty. Be 
 sides, being well versed in matters pertaining to his 
 church as well as those of general interest, he was quite 
 a brilliant conversationalist, and as such naturally at 
 tracted those with whom he came in contact. These qual 
 ities of Dr. Darling were so pleasing to the Count that 
 
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 he decided to cultivate his acquaintance, and with this 
 end in view, he invited him to his first dinner to be given 
 to Mr. Milton and some of his friends. The reverend gen 
 tleman accepted the extended invitation, promising to be 
 there with Mr. Milton. Thus ending his day, the Count 
 was now expecting his invited friends to dinner, a bach 
 elor s dinner, as he called it, which of course meant with 
 no ladies present. But, notwithstanding the great vari 
 ety of impressions obtained during the day, the Count 
 was in a peculiarly meditative mood. He began to re 
 view the recent happenings, trying to find the connecting 
 link of the events. Omitting the causes which took him 
 to Lake Tahoe, he particularly dwelt upon the time he 
 had spent there. "What a charming country," he 
 thought. "But what an unexpected incident! To think 
 that after years of separation, I would meet Mr. Milton 
 on the shores of that Lake, was something that never 
 occurred to me. In fact, I never expected to meet him 
 again; yet, it seems as though the purpose of my going 
 to that place was to meet this friend of an old date ; if so, 
 what connection can this event have with the main ob 
 ject of my wanderings? Oh, these wanderings! What 
 brought me to this city, whose existence dates only yes 
 terday, which has no history, no past to astonish a 
 stranger? What was it that caused the uncontrollable 
 desire to come to Los Angeles? After all, what consti 
 tutes the attraction?" He could not answer. But he 
 felt that this was the place where the magnet which at 
 tracted him was located. This was his North Pole. Had 
 he any corroborative indications of this? None what 
 ever. Yet, he felt that this was the place which he had 
 been seeking for many a year. "Yes," he thought, look- 
 
 92
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 ing at the aromatic smoke before him forming fantastic 
 rings and dispersing in clouds, "after years of travels 
 and unsuccessful researches, this place seems to be my 
 Mecca. Is it here that I will solve my problem? Is it 
 here that I will find what I have been looking for all 
 these years in vain? To answer these questions seemed 
 to him at least premature, and finally he concluded by 
 saying : "Let the events tell their own story." Singularly 
 enough, in connection with the above thoughts there was 
 closely interwoven a sympathetic individuality, and this 
 individuality was that of Mr. Milton. Whenever these 
 thoughts in connection with the object of his wanderings 
 came to him, he invariably found Mr. Milton as though 
 a part of them, and naturally he asked himself what that 
 young man had to do with the problem of his life? Why 
 his personality appeared so persistently in his visions 
 while contemplating those subjects? Following his sys 
 tem of thinking, he was forced to admit that Mr. Milton 
 had an important part in the matter ; that coming in con 
 tact with him in Paris, and again meeting him here, were 
 not mere accidents; for there was no such a thing as an 
 accident. Accident or chance was a word which meant 
 an event the causes of which were not known. Never 
 theless the cause was there, for there is no effect without 
 the cause, and as long as the cause was not known the 
 event was called by the majority of people, an accident, 
 a chance. These words had a meaning for those people 
 who were not familiar with the great law of cause and 
 effect, but for him they were absolutely meaningless. He 
 knew too well the workings of the law so prominently 
 governing the Universe, to admit that there could be 
 such a thing as an "accident." The only thing that 
 
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 troubled him was his inability to connect Mr. Milton with 
 the object he was pursuing. But then, he thought, if he 
 knew that connecting link, he would not have a mystery 
 on hand as he did, and finally concluded that there was 
 no use trying to anticipate events which would take place 
 in due time. Thus contemplating, he hardly noticed his 
 faithful Yonan entering the room, announcing the arrival 
 of Mr. Milton. Hearing this the Count arose, directing 
 his steps towards the door to meet his guests. 
 
 Mr. Milton entered the parlor with a radiant face, fol 
 lowed by his friend Dr. Darling. 
 
 "Ah, so glad," exclaimed Count Morat, extending his 
 hands to Mr. Milton and his companion. 
 
 "I thought we were late, but I see we have the privi- 
 ledge of being the first to shake your hand, dear Count," 
 said Mr. Milton taking a chair. 
 
 "As usual, my dear Mr. Milton, you are always very 
 punctual, a habit quite indispensable for the success of a 
 lawyer," replied the Count. 
 
 "Better say for a successful lawyer," remarked Dr. 
 Darling, taking the seat indicated by the Count. 
 
 "Yes, I think you are quite correct," said the Count. 
 "The term is the most appropriate when applied to our 
 mutual friend Mr. Milton, for he certainly has attained 
 that degree wonderfully well." 
 
 In the meantime, the Chaldean stood there with an in 
 quiring gaze. The Count understood his servant and 
 turning to Mr. Milton said : 
 
 "Yonan wishes to know whether he shall serve yon a 
 pipe, but I would not advise you to have one just now, 
 for shortly we will dine. Instead, I would propose an 
 
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 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 appetizer such as Yonan knows how to prepare; what do 
 you say?" 
 
 "I think it is a splendid idea," said Mr. Milton, whose 
 attention was attracted by the noise on the street. "If I 
 am not mistaken," he added, "the noise of the automobile 
 I hear announces the arrival of our friends." 
 
 Scarcely had he finished his words, when the door 
 opened and Dr. Ihringier with Mr. Irving entered the 
 parlor. 
 
 "My respects," said the Doctor, shaking hands with 
 the Count. 
 
 "Good evening, gentlemen. Here we are again with 
 our crowd," shouted Mr. Irving with his metallic voice, 
 accompanied with a good natured smile, and trying to 
 shake hands at once with everybody in the room. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I am delighted to see you in my new 
 dwelling," said the Count, with an expression of genuine 
 sincerity. Then turning to Dr. Ihringier, he remarked: 
 
 "I hope there is no need of introduction. Are you 
 acquainted with Dr. Darling?" 
 
 "Why, yes," replied Dr. Ihringier. "We know each 
 other very well indeed, for we meet quite frequently to 
 discuss matters of great importance." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," joined Mr. Irving. "We build, and re 
 build the universe time and again. But the trouble is, 
 whenever one gets ready to put a last finishing touch on 
 his structure, the other begins to kick and all goes topsy 
 turvy." 
 
 Hearing this remark, Dr. Darling began to laugh 
 heartily and turning to Mr. Irving said : 
 
 "You must be careful in the choice of your words, for 
 you might give a wrong impression to our host. He
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 might come to the conclusion that we are a lot of mal 
 contents using the art of kicking as a last resort." 
 
 "No danger," said Mr. Milton. "The Count knows 
 Mr. Irving quite well and by this time I hope he has 
 familiarized himself with his metaphorical vocabulary. 
 Besides, he did not say anything but truth. Whenever 
 Dr. Ihringier comes out with his structure, Dr. Darling 
 goes after him with his old-fashioned shovel and tries to 
 upset the poor man s labors." 
 
 "And what about you?" inquired Mr. Irving, turning 
 to Mr. Milton; "you never can agree with either of the 
 two. I tell you it is a pity. But what is the use ? These 
 three men cannot agree, because one is a doctor of divin 
 ity/ the other a doctor of anatomy or materia meclica/ 
 and Mr. Milton is the doctor of habeas corpus/ and I, 
 my poor I have to suffer in keeping them together." 
 
 "It is because you are all materialists," said Dr. Dar 
 ling, reproachfully. "With such an element as that, one 
 cannot go very far." 
 
 "You are perfectly right," said Count Morat, answer 
 ing Dr. Darling. "With materialists you cannot go 
 very far from the surface of the earth. But here comes 
 Yonan, I suppose, to give us a new suggestion." 
 
 At this moment the Chaldean appeared with a tray on 
 which there were five small glasses filled with a liquid 
 of a rosy color. 
 
 "This is, gentlemen," said the Count, turning to his 
 guests, "the scientific appetizer prepared according to an 
 old recipe the origin of which is attributed to Chaldeans, 
 and confided to me by my good man, Yonan. I would 
 advise not to advance an opinion until you have ascer 
 tained its effect." 
 
 96
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 "The advice is good," said Mr. Irving-, taking one of 
 the glasses served by the Chaldean. "I ordinarily advo 
 cate the same principle, not to talk unless you know what 
 you are talking about." 
 
 "A sound and judicious principle but unfortunately 
 not very popular," remarked Dr. Ihringier, putting his 
 empty glass on the tray. 
 
 "Especially with the monistic philosophers," said Dr. 
 Darling, looking somewhat suspiciously at the contents 
 of the glass in his hand. 
 
 "Ha, ha," exclaimed Mr. Milton, laughing merrily, "I 
 see now what ails him. It is the monistic philosophy 
 that he cannot swallow." 
 
 "There is no question of swallowing anything," re 
 plied Dr. Darling, laconically. "It is the lack of logic in 
 the professed system of thinking that repels." 
 
 "Yet we are entirely indebted to the eminent scientists 
 adhering to monistic views for all that we know so far 
 in natural sciences," said Mr. Milton. 
 
 "Not necessarily," answered Dr. Darling. "There are 
 a good many of them who clearly see the shallowness of 
 monistic philosophy, which after all is nothing but a 
 strictly materialistic school. It teaches that there is noth 
 ing but matter, referring all phenomena of life to a single 
 ultimate constituent or agent, and that ultimate agent, un 
 fortunately is nothing but matter. They call it Monism 
 from the Greek Monos, which means single. And this 
 wonderful monism is in opposition to dualism, which is 
 the only and the most reliable system of teaching. It is 
 not necessary to be an eminent scientist to know that we 
 have a soul and a good one, too." 
 
 "That sounds pretty well," said Dr. Ihringier. "But 
 
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 here is where the trouble comes. When you profess dual 
 ism, you intend to state, that you are composed of a body, 
 and of a soul, which is presumably something altogether 
 different from the body. We know that you have an ani 
 mated body, a body that produces life; but how do you 
 come to the conclusion, that the produced life does not 
 owe its origin to that body, and furthermore, that it is 
 caused by that which you term a soul ? That is the ques 
 tion. In order to answer this, you have to specify the 
 reasons for the statement which you have made and 
 show the sources on which you base your knowledge." 
 
 "There is no necessity for specifying," replied Dr. Dar 
 ling. "It always has been a belief amongst men and that 
 belief came to us from time immemorial, in fact, from 
 the creation of the world, and this is how we know what 
 we profess knowing." 
 
 "Then the source of your knowledge of the existence 
 of a soul, such as the dualistic school teaches, is based 
 solely on belief, is that it ?" asked Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 "Well, yes," answered Dr. Darling. "In matters spir 
 itual we cannot apply reasoning the way we do in things 
 material. We have to believe." 
 
 "We have to believe," repeated Dr. Ihringier, empha 
 sizing each word. "Good advice for those who consider 
 a belief as a sufficient source for the acquirement of 
 knowledge. But you must remember that we are living 
 in an age which does not think, nor consider belief to be 
 knowledge. You may say, you believe you have a soul, 
 but you cannot say that you know you have a soul, unless 
 you substantiate your assertion by a better knowledge than 
 that which comes from belief. For, if we were to base our 
 knowledge upon the belief, where would we be, with 
 
 98
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 all the existing amalgamated superstitions under differ 
 ent names and forms? A mere belief cannot and does 
 not constitute knowledge. For a belief is based upon 
 somebody s saying so. On dit is no argument. But 
 knowledge requires something more than that." 
 
 "Then, pray, how can you acquire that knowledge if 
 you would not believe in the authority of those who im 
 part it?" asked Dr. Darling. 
 
 "Yes, that is it; how can you?" joined Mr. Irving, 
 gaily. "Here is something for you to answer." 
 
 "It is well said," replied Dr. Ihringier, answering the 
 clergyman. "But before I would believe in the imparted 
 statement, I would have to satisfy myself in regard to 
 the authority of the imparter. It is quite a problem to 
 establish a proper authority. The authority which is 
 made up of a long black, red or white robe, culminated 
 with a miter or a crown, is not authority for a scientific 
 ally thinking man, even if such an one is emphatically 
 stamped by the ages. An authority in imparting a knowl 
 edge must be based upon, and be an expression of an em 
 pirical knowledge ; that is to say a knowledge which has 
 been acquired by experiences, and as such has been demon 
 strated and is demonstrable at any time. To such an 
 authority we must believe and bow reverently, simply be 
 cause it conveys a truth accessible to our verification. 
 Hence follows a simple ruling governing our choice in 
 authorities. Any authority which imparts a knowledge 
 not acquired by experiences is erroneous, and as such can 
 not be acceptable for it is a clear case of the blind leading 
 the blind." 
 
 "That sounds logical when applied to things accessible
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 to our physical senses, but it cannot be applied to the 
 spiritual world," remarked Dr. Darling. 
 
 "And what is the spiritual world, may I ask you ?" in 
 quired Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 Here Count Morat interrupted the conversation. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "I dislike very much to inter 
 rupt the immensely interesting discussion you have start 
 ed, but I notice my Yonan has been waiting for us now 
 for some time, which means that the dinner is served. Let 
 us go to the dining room and if it be your pleasure we 
 can continue our discussion there." 
 
 "The suggestion is just in time," said Mr. Irving. 
 "But, before we start to taste some more scientific 
 dainties, I wish to say that your scientific appetizer, dear 
 Count, is a splendid mixture. Owing to its wonderful 
 effects I feel now that I am nothing but a delightful sci 
 entist. With our friends here, the two doctors and one 
 lawyer, all goes lovely. Indeed, dear Count, your magi 
 cal appetizer is splendid, splendid!" 
 
 The Chaldean opened the double door and they en 
 tered the dining room. 
 
 "Dr. Darling," said the Count, standing near his chair 
 at the table, "please take your seat opposite mine; Mr. Ir 
 ving will kindly sit at my left, and let these two learned 
 men face each other." 
 
 "That is right," shouted Mr. Irving, joyously. "Keep 
 them at a distance, for you don t know what may happen 
 during the dinner." 
 
 The arrangement of the table, the service of the Chal 
 dean in his long oriental silk robes, who swiftly but 
 softly moved around like a shadow without the least 
 noise, the exquisite menu with its various wines, were 
 
 100
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 amazingly perfect. In every detail there was the mark 
 of an exceedingly refined taste and highly artistic appear 
 ance. 
 
 As the dinner progressed and the guests became more 
 animated, the genial host succeeded in keeping their at 
 tention exclusively on current topics. This gave a good 
 opportunity to the self-appointed toast master, Mr. Ir 
 ving, who made the glasses circulate quite freely with 
 such a variety of flowery remarks, as only the delicious 
 California grape product could inspire. Very generous 
 in his appreciation of good liquids, he went so far as to 
 state that had Bacchus ever tasted California wines, he 
 certainly would never have had any desire of presiding 
 at the magnificent tables of Roman Caesars. "But, O 
 tempora, O mores ! how few are those who know what a 
 good thing is, unless they have made this vinum-vitae 
 circulate in their veins!" said he, raising his filled glass 
 against the electric light standing in the center of the 
 table, in order to see and admire the color of its contents. 
 
 When the last delicacies were consumed, following the 
 suggestion of the Count, they passed into the parlor 
 where, seated in comfortable chairs, they were served 
 with an exquisitely made Turkish coffee and excellent 
 cigars. But the Count and Mr. Milton preferred to have 
 a Turkish kalyon. These were served by the Chaldean 
 with all the customary ceremonials of easterners, which 
 attracted the attention of Dr. Darling. 
 
 "This oriental service of long pipes is quite pictur 
 esque," said he to the Count. 
 
 "Yes," replied Count Morat, "especially when this 
 takes place in America." 
 
 "Before you go any farther on that subject," remarked 
 
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 Mr. Milton, "I wish to remind Dr. Darling that the ques 
 tion put to him by Dr. Ihringier remains unanswered." 
 
 "What was the question?" inquired the divine. 
 
 "The question you were asked," said Mr. Milton, "was ; 
 what is the spiritual world? Was not that it, Dr. Ihrin 
 gier?" 
 
 "Yes, that was the question which arose from what Dr. 
 Darling said," answered Dr. Ihringier. "I asked that 
 question because no such a thing as a spiritual world is 
 known to science." 
 
 "It is only natural that monistic philosophers with 
 their empirical knowledge do not and cannot know such 
 a thing as a spiritual world," replied Dr. Darling. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Dr. Ihringier. "The unknowable 
 and unthinkable remains unknown, not only to monistic 
 philosophers, but also to the rest of the world who are 
 consistent with what they already know. It is a daring, 
 and in the meantime utterly useless attempt to unveil 
 things which human intellect cannot comprehend. But 
 what puzzles me the most is, this curious desire of know 
 ing the unknowable while the knowable remains unex 
 plored by them. Forgetful of the fact that our only real 
 and valuable knowledge is a knowledge of nature itself, 
 and consists of presentations which correspond to exter 
 nal things, they jump into the unknown chaos in order to 
 create something more suitable to their fancy ; and this is 
 the beginning of the plays into metaphysics." 
 
 "Pardon me," said Mr. Milton, "but there is a little 
 contradiction in what you said. When you speak of an 
 unknown chaos, your admission that they create in it 
 something suitable to their fancy makes that chaos a 
 knowable thing. For you certainly know, that the hu- 
 
 102
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 man mind can not create any thing in its most fanciful 
 imagination without having some conception of it. You 
 know that the power of thinking is only relative. Can 
 you make an Indian think of a piano if he has not seen 
 one? Could you think of an umbrella if you had not seen 
 one? It naturally follows that even in the fanciful plays 
 into metaphysics, once they are conceivable to human 
 intellect, they are not things unknowable." 
 
 "But they are unnatural, and as such they do not ex 
 ist," replied Dr. Ihringier. "You can conceive a horse 
 with wings flying in the air. But you forget that it is 
 the play of your fancy that makes such a thing, which 
 does not exist in reality. You have a conception of wings 
 and of a horse. Your fancy puts them together and your 
 horse flies. Does it follow that there is such a thing as a 
 flying horse? That is what happens with those who cre 
 ate things suitable to their fancy. But we are not deal 
 ing with things of that nature. In defining our power 
 of knowledge, we must remain in the limited area of reali 
 ties. Give us facts, only facts." 
 
 "That is the way to talk," said Mr. Irving, dropping 
 the ashes of his cigar on a tray. "Facts, and facts only 
 count nowadays. What is the use of talking about the 
 things which do not exist? What was it Abraham Lin 
 coln said ? You can fool some people for some time, but 
 you can not fool all the people all the time. That is it. 
 But, coming to the point, you may call me Denis if I can 
 grasp what you were talking about. Evidently you for 
 get that everybody is not a learned doctor. So, to make 
 your instructive discussion clear to me, won t you kindly 
 state the main issue?" 
 
 "The main issue is this," said Mr. Milton, "Doctor 
 
 103
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 Ihringier is a strong believer in monistic philosophy, 
 which teaches that there is nothing outside of matter. In 
 other words, a man, a squirrel, a flower, and all the rest 
 you see, is the product of matter. The moment they 
 cease to exist in their given form, they mark the end of 
 their existence as such. To illustrate ; when you die, that 
 will be your end. There will be no more of yourself. 
 Now, in opposition to this, Dr. Darling represents the 
 dualistic school which teaches dualism in all, namely, that 
 there is a God who created and maintains the earth and 
 all on it; that man is constituted of two original and in 
 dependent elements, of body and of spirit, which does 
 not die, which is immortal, so that, when you die, that 
 does not indicate your end. You lose your body, but your 
 soul continues its existence, goes to heaven or to hell ac 
 cording to the merit or demerit of your lived life. Now, 
 then, the problem is to show which is the nearest to the 
 truth. Do you now see the issue?" 
 
 "I see the issue," said Mr. Irving. "But don t you think 
 the attempt to learn the truth from two men, each firmly 
 believing in his own theory, is rather a failure?" 
 
 "Not at all," remarked Dr. Ihringier. "I am willing 
 to accept any assertion that will show the fallacy of sci 
 ence. You must remember that the science of today is 
 not what it was a hundred years ago. While we are not 
 able as yet to say what an atom is, what the law of attrac 
 tion and gravitation is, what electricity is, in se we 
 know quite well their systematical activities and the pro 
 duced result. Look at the wonderful progress made in 
 Astronomy, Chemistry, Biology, Geology, in fact, every 
 branch of science has made such an advance in empirical 
 knowledge that if the old scientists of two or three cen- 
 
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 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING 
 
 turies ago could see it, they undoubtedly would be great 
 ly surprised. Today the standard of science stands above 
 all; it has crushed and annihilated many ugly supersti 
 tions and has become a source and foundation of many 
 blessings and much happiness to mankind. Thanks to it, 
 we are not compelled to go in search of an explanation 
 in myths for the beautiful and majestic display of charm 
 ing colors in the rainbow. Nor do we wonder at the fall 
 ing stars. There is hardly anything in the horizon of our 
 globe left free from persistent microscopic researches of 
 science. Science does not know admissions and does 
 not employ presumptions. It has only facts to deal with, 
 and whatever science says you may rest assured that it is 
 so. Now, those professing dualism cannot say even this 
 much. They must use admissions and presumptions to 
 build up their theories. This being the case, which of 
 these schools is to be considered the safest, the one which 
 deals with facts and only facts, or the other which builds 
 its palaces in the air?" 
 
 "Of course the one which deals with facts," said Mr. 
 Irving. "But now let me ask you a simple question. 
 Admitting that science is what you state it to be, deal 
 ing with cold facts, observing and measuring things with 
 meters and barometers, what does science say will become 
 of me when I die?" 
 
 "Science." replied Dr. Ihringier, "does not say that 
 you will go to " 
 
 "O Lord, no." interrupted Mr. Irving, "of course not, 
 for I don t intend to. But I don t want to know what it 
 does not say. You tell me what it does say." 
 
 "Well," answered Dr. Ihringier, "Science says that 
 when you die that will be your end, which means there 
 
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 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 will be no more of yourself. Your dead body will begin 
 its work for a new life by disappearing gradually under 
 different forms and becoming a part of some other living 
 entities, not necessarily human. They may be plants, ani 
 mals, etc., and the rest of course you know, there will be 
 on your grave an epitaph, which will read ; f Sic transit 
 gloria mundi. 
 
 "And what will become of my soul, my spirit, my I, 
 which makes me what I am? inquired Mr. Irving again. 
 
 "There is no such a thing as your I, when your body 
 is gone," replied Dr. Ihringier. "What you are saying 
 now is something which you have learned from the dual- 
 istic school and which is known as metaphysics. That 
 does not belong to science." 
 
 "Then according to science, there is no such a thing 
 as a soul or spirit ?" inquired Mr. Irving. 
 
 "O yes, there is," answered Dr. Ihringier. "In order 
 to give you a precise idea of it, I will quote verbatim the 
 most prominent monist of our days, who makes this state 
 ment to answer the question : what is monism ? This state 
 ment defining monistic views gives also a precise idea as 
 to what is a soul or spirit according to scientific re 
 searches. Here is the formula: 
 
 " i. Pure monism is identical neither with the theo 
 retical materialism that denies the existence of spirit and 
 dissolves the world into a heap of dead atoms, nor with 
 the theoretical spiritualism, (lately entitled "energetic" 
 spiritualism by Ostwald) which rejects the notion of mat 
 ter and considers the world to be a specially arranged 
 group of "energies" or immaterial natural forces. 
 
 " 2. On the contrary, we hold, with Goethe, that "mat 
 ter cannot exist and be operative without spirit, nor 
 
 106
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 spirit without matter." We adhere firmly to the pure, un 
 equivocal monism of Spinoza; Matter, or infinitely ex 
 tended substance, and spirit (or energy) or sensitive and 
 thinking substance, are the two fundamental attributes 
 or principal properties of the all-embracing divine essence 
 of the world, the universal substance. " (*) 
 
 "Well, that is clear," said Mr. Irving. "Your monism 
 is not as bad as Dr. Darling represented it to be. It says 
 that matter cannot exist without spirit." 
 
 "But it also says that spirit cannot exist without mat 
 ter," remarked Dr. Darling. 
 
 "Well, then there must be something wrong with the 
 definition of the spirit," said Mr. Irving. 
 
 "Nothing wrong about the definition," replied Dr. 
 Ihringier. "The above statement clearly specifies that 
 spirit or sensitive and thinking substance is a fundamental 
 attribute or principal property of the universal substance, 
 governed by the so-called law of substance just the same 
 as matter is." 
 
 "And what is the law of substance?" asked Mr. Irving. 
 
 "Under the name of Law of Substance, answered 
 Dr. Ihringier, "We embrace two supreme laws of dif 
 ferent origin and age. The older is the chemical law of 
 the conservation of matter, and the younger is the physi 
 cal law of the conservation of energy." 
 
 "But, I do not see where the spirit comes into this 
 chaos," ejaculated Mr. Irving, impatiently. 
 
 "It is because youi have a confused conception of the 
 spirit," answered Dr. Ihringier. "You think of a spirit 
 as you have been taught by the dualistic school. A spirit 
 independent of matter, an immortal spirit, as they call it, 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. The Riddle of the Universe. Page 20. 
 
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 does not exist according to science. And that is why the 
 belief in the immortality of the human soul is a dogma 
 which is in hopeless contradiction with the most solid 
 empirical truths of modern science. That this is so, I 
 will endeavor to show you in a manner that will con 
 vince the greatest opponent of scientific researches. In 
 the first place I owe you an explanation of the words 
 soul and spirit. 
 
 " The anemos and psyche of the Greeks, and the anima 
 and spiritus of the Romans, were originally all names for 
 "a breath of wind." They were transferred from this 
 to the breath of man. After a time this "living- breath" 
 was identified with the "vital force," and finally it came 
 to be regarded as the soul itself, or in a narrower sense, 
 as its highest manifestation, "spirit." From that the 
 imagination went on to derive the mystic notion of indi 
 vidual "spirits." (*) This is how the names originated; 
 and now let us see what science knows about the ex 
 istence of a soul or spirit in man ; 
 
 " The physiological argument shows that the human 
 soul is not an independent, immaterial substance, but, like 
 the soul of all higher animals, merely a collective title for 
 the sum-total of man s cerebral functions, and these are 
 just as much determined by physical and chemical pro 
 cesses as any other vital functions and just as amenable 
 to the law of substance. 
 
 " The histological argument is based on the extremely 
 complicated microscopic structure of the brain; it shows 
 as the true "elementary organs of the soul" in the gan- 
 glionic cells. 
 
 " The experimental argument proves that the various 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. Ibid. Page 200. 
 
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 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING 
 
 functions of the soul are bound up with certain special 
 parts of the brain and cannot be exercised unless they 
 are in a normal condition; if the areas are destroyed, 
 their function is extinguished ; and this is especially ap 
 plicable to the "organs of thought," the four central in 
 struments of mental activity. 
 
 The pathological argument is the complement of the 
 physiological; when certain parts of the brain (the cen 
 ters of speech, sight, hearing, etc.) are destroyed by sick 
 ness, their activity (speech, vision, hearing, etc.) disap 
 pears; in this way nature herself makes the decisive 
 physiological experiment. 
 
 " The onto genetic argument puts before us the facts of 
 the development of the soul in the individual ; we see how 
 the child-soul gradually unfolds its various powers ; the 
 youth presents them in full bloom, the mature man shows 
 their ripe fruit; in old age we see the gradual decay of 
 the psychic powers corresponding to the senile degenera 
 tion of the brain. 
 
 " The phylo genetic argument derives its strength from 
 palaeontology and the comparative anatomy and physi 
 ology of the brain ; co-operating with and completing each 
 other, these sciences prove to the hilt that the human 
 brain (and consequently its function the soul) has been 
 evolved step by step from that of the mammal, and still 
 further back, from that of the lower vertebrate. " (*) 
 
 Count Morat, who up to this time was listening very 
 attentively, did not intend to take any active part in the 
 discussion, prefering to hear the opinions of his guests. 
 But when Dr. Ihringier began to enumerate the scientific 
 sources of his argument, wishing to establish the fact that 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. Ibid. Page 204. 
 
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 the human soul or spirit was merely a collective title for 
 the sum-total of man s cerebral functions, he could not 
 remain silent any longer, and turning to Dr. Ihringier, 
 said: 
 
 "While I agree with you on many scientific points ad 
 vanced by you, I certainly consider your last argument 
 of no value. The sources enumerated purporting to 
 prove the leading assertion absolutely fail in the attempt, 
 owing to the misuse of the names soul, or spirit. In 
 giving the origin of those names, you say that they be 
 came identical with vital force and the rest followed 
 as a work of imagination. The first question that we 
 face here is, what makes you think that spirit is identi 
 cal with the vital force? On what do you base such an 
 assertion? What sort of empirical knowledge teaches you 
 that? Here it is where a great error is committed, and 
 where your knowledge is at fault because it is not empiri 
 cal. In your researches for the spirit, owing to the 
 methods you are using, you can go only as far as vital 
 force and there you have to halt. But evidently, you 
 are after the spirit, and not finding it in a form suscep 
 tible to your researches, you identify it with vital force 
 in order to bring it under the ruling of the so-called law 
 of substance. This is the only evident cause which makes 
 you assume that spirit is identical with the vital force. 
 For you certainly have no empirical knowledge whatso 
 ever to the effect that the spirit and the vital force are 
 one and the same thing. However, if you want to use 
 the name of spirit, you must use it in the sense in which 
 it was conceived originally, namely, as an entity capable 
 of existing without matter such as the human body is, 
 and much superior in its substance to it. But since your 
 
 110
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 empirical knowledge does not permit such an admission, 
 why are you using that name at all? Is it because that 
 name, Spirit, had been in use long before you obtained 
 your empirical knowledge, or because you were after it 
 and not finding it under your microscopic observations 
 you concluded that the vital force must be the soul ? You 
 must consider that believers in the existence of an im 
 mortal soul, and those represent hundreds of millions, 
 say and quite successfully prove that there is in man the 
 same as in all other entities, that which you call Vital 
 force/ But the spirit, which is not the vital force, is 
 only in man. This assertion, according to the empirical 
 knowledge at your disposal, is called imagination or super 
 stition, but this is not the case. This only shows and 
 emphatically proves that the monistic school as well as 
 materialistic, is governed by such an empirical knowledge 
 as is accessible to gross senses only, and this is why they 
 cannot admit the existence of the soul. That you know 
 and govern your researches by your empirical knowledge 
 does not indicate nor prove that there is no empirical 
 knowledge which establishes the dualistic view as forcibly 
 as monistic and materialistic schools do theirs. The 
 standing you take in this case is as much irrational as you 
 think your adversaries hold. Having in view the unten- 
 ability of the admissions you make; look at your own 
 arguments and see how they sound : 
 
 "Your physiological argument shows that man s cere 
 bral functions are just as much determined by physical 
 and chemical processes as any of the other vital func 
 tions, and why? Because they are only vital functions. 
 
 "Your histological argument shows, that there is a 
 certain elementary organ in the ganglionic cells, which 
 
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 you call elementary organs of the soul. Of course you 
 do not mean this organ is a soul. 
 
 "Your experimental and pathological arguments show, 
 that when a wheel is broken it cannot perform its func 
 tions. Only natural. 
 
 "Your onto genetic argument shows, that man and 
 his organs grow gradually, and according to the stage 
 of development produce a corresponding action. Per 
 fectly correct. 
 
 "Your phylogenetic argument shows, that the human 
 race has been subject to the law of evolution the same as 
 anything else. Only true. But, what have all these argu 
 ments to do with the soul or spirit? Following your sys 
 tem of observations it would be much safer to omit those 
 names and say as much in this connection as you do in 
 other branches of science. We know some of the work 
 ings of the law of gravitation; we know some uses of 
 electricity, but we do not know what the law of gravita 
 tion is, nor do we know what electricity is." 
 
 "This is a splendid demonstration of the untenability 
 of monistic views," exclaimed Dr. Darling, joyously. 
 "From an erroneous admission, only erroneous conclu 
 sions can be made." 
 
 "There is nothing erroneous in the premises," replied 
 Dr. Ihringier, "Don t you affirm that the life and its 
 activity are due to the soul?" 
 
 "Most assuredly," answered Count Morat "But it does 
 not follow that the activity of life is the soul. A machine 
 is operated by electricity. Would you consider the activ 
 ity of that machine to be the electricity?" 
 
 "Then, if life, its activity or vital force in man is not 
 
 112
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSE WARMING. 
 
 his soul, where is that wonderful soul of yours?" in 
 quired Dr. Ihring-ier. 
 
 "That is what I wanted to learn from you, doctor," 
 said Mr. Irving, triumphantly. "You profess to know 
 all knowable with your empirical knowledge, yet you 
 don t know where your soul is. But, I say men, what is 
 the use? More you hear of this, less you know. What 
 is the use?" 
 
 "Don t be so discouraged," said Mr. Milton, merrily. 
 "You better turn now to Dr. Darling and with all your 
 piety, say to him; in manus tuas commendo spiritum 
 meum." (Into thy hands, I commend my spirit.) 
 
 "I will do so gladly," replied Mr. Irving, "provided 
 Dr. Darling will establish his theory on a firmer basis 
 than that of our learned Doctor." 
 
 "In the first place, you make a great mistake in usiny 
 the term theory, alluding to what we profess," said Dr. 
 Darling, authoritatively "What you heard from our 
 friend Dr. Ihringier, was a pure and simple theory and 
 this was ably demonstrated by our eloquent host. But 
 what we profess and teach is nothing but absolute truth 
 a truth known by mankind since the creation of the 
 world." 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Dr. Ihringier. "Since the creation 
 of the world, did you say? Then you believe that our 
 earth was created?" 
 
 "Most positively," answered Dr. Darling. 
 
 "And when did that happen?" asked Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 "According to the Jewish calendar, 5,666 years ago. 
 But of course our calculation differs a little from that," 
 replied ^Dr. Darling, with a calm, didactic voice. 
 
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 "And by what process did this act of creation occur, 
 may I ask you?" said the physician. 
 
 "By what process? Why, by no process at all," re 
 plied Dr. Darling indignantly. "God created the heaven 
 and the earth of nothing. You speak as though you 
 were born and raised somewhere in Africa. Thank the 
 Lord, Philadelphia, where you were born, is a Christian 
 city, where every child knows how the Almighty created 
 the heaven and the earth in six days, and on the seventh 
 rested from all his work." 
 
 "That I knew when I was a child," said Dr. Ihringier. 
 "But now, I know as a mature man that the statement 
 you just made is a stupendous contradiction to the real 
 truth." 
 
 "And that real truth is ?" suggested Mr. Milton. 
 
 "By Jove," shouted Dr. Ihringier, "you ask me ques 
 tions as though you did not know what the real truth 
 was in the matter. The truth is, that there was no such 
 a thing as a creation. Besides, just think of the amusing 
 assertion, that our planet has been in existence only five 
 or six thousand years; simply ridiculous. Is there any 
 necessity that I should say that today, only savages and 
 half civilized people can believe in a story like that ? No 
 man with a little bit of intelligence can accept the Jewish 
 myth for the truth. It is a positive and undeniable fact 
 that our planet has been in existence not less than one 
 hundred million years. This we know empirically. For it 
 is a well known fact amongst scientists and the thinking 
 public, that geologists distinguish besides the primordial 
 age, which had a duration of fifty-two million years, three 
 great epochs in the organic history of the earth, as far as 
 we can read it in the monuments of science of fossils 
 
 114
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 the primary, secondary, and tertiary epochs. According 
 to a recent calculation, the first occupied at least thirty- 
 four million, the second eleven million, and the third three 
 million years. The history of the family of vertebrates, 
 from which our own race has sprung, unfolds clearly be 
 fore our eyes during this long period. Three different 
 stages in the evolution of the vertebrate correspond to the 
 three epochs; the fishes characterized the primary (palaeo 
 zoic) age, the reptiles the secondary (mesozoic) age, and 
 the mammals the tertiary ( caenozoic. ) " (*) 
 
 "Ta, ta, ta," shouted Mr. Irving; "now we run into 
 millions, don t we? But can you tell me how you know 
 about those millions?" 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Irving," said Dr. Ihringier, a little 
 irritated. "Do you know anything about a horse?" 
 
 "A horse?" repeated Mr. Irving. "Why, yes, when I 
 see a horse I know it is not a cow." 
 
 "That is not what I want to know," remarked Dr. 
 Ihringier, "What I wish to know is, whether you know 
 something about the breeding of horses and the details 
 connected with it." 
 
 "No, that I do not know," answered Mr. Irving. 
 
 "You used to keep horses," said the Doctor. "Can you 
 tell the age of a horse when you see one?" 
 
 "O Lord, no, I do not know anything about the age of 
 a horse, and that is why, when I buy one, I always ask 
 the advice of my friend the veterinary, what is his 
 name ?" 
 
 "Never mind about the name," interrupted Dr. Ihrin 
 gier. "The fact is, that you rely upon the opinion of a 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. Ibid. Page 270. 
 
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 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 veterinary; and now, will you tell me, why do you do 
 that?" 
 
 "Simply because the veterinary knows all about it, and 
 he can tell me about the age of a horse almost to a day 
 after examining the animal s mouth," replied Mr. Irving. 
 
 "That is it," said the Doctor, "The geologists represent 
 in this case the veterinaries of our globe. They read 
 from the records of the earth and tell us about the age 
 of our planet just the same as your veterinary does his 
 reading from the mouth of your horse, and that is 
 how we know about the millions of years counting the 
 duration of the existence of our earth." 
 
 "Now, then, what about those six days in which the 
 earth was created, Dr. Darling?" inquired Mr. Irving. 
 
 "These millions of years," replied Dr. Darling, "are 
 as problematical as that wonderful soul which was found 
 by the monistic philosophers. Besides, assuming that 
 calculations of geologists represent some truth, it does 
 not contradict the creation in six days." 
 
 "How is that; will you explain it?" asked Dr. Ihrin- 
 gier. 
 
 "Willingly," said Dr. Darling. "It is true the Holy 
 Scriptures speak of the creation being accomplished in 
 six days, but Scriptures do not state the length of those 
 days. They could represent millions of years." 
 
 "Pardon me/ said Mr. Milton, "but here is no place 
 for could. The Scriptures state in plain language that 
 the evening and the morning were the first day and so 
 on. Speaking correctly this ought to signify the first 
 night, for it starts with the evening and ends with the 
 morning. But, this is the identical language used by 
 the Jewish book. If the evening and the morning were 
 
 116
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEW ARMING. 
 
 the first day it could not be millions of years, unless 
 we speculate on the length of the day by supposing that 
 our earth did not make its revolutions then as fast as it 
 does now." 
 
 "Well," said Dr. Darling, "that admission could not 
 possibly represent an error, for hardly can astronomers, 
 or anyone else tell at what rate our globe -was making 
 its revolutions at that time." 
 
 "And what about those 5,666 years after the creation. 
 How do you explain that?" asked Mr. Irving. 
 
 "The matter is very simple," answered Dr. Darling. 
 "The epoch representing that number of years commences 
 at the time described by Moses in his pentateuch, and 
 ends with the year 1906, of our era." 
 
 "But, by Jove! That epoch dates from the first day 
 of creation, if we have to believe the Writ," exclaimed 
 Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 "Oh, well, probably that is when Moses made his mis 
 takes," joined Mr. Irving. "But what is the use! If he 
 succeeded in describing 1 his own death in his fifth book, 
 why could he not succeed in fixing the date of the creation 
 to suit his fancy? Poor thing, he did not know geol 
 ogy. But I suppose this part belongs to the man who 
 wrote about the mistakes of Moses." 
 
 "Never mind about that," shouted Dr. Ihringier. "But 
 is not this a fair specimen of what I said, that admissions 
 and suppositions are the only foundations on which the 
 dualistic school such as represented by our learned Dr. 
 Darling, can build and maintain its theories?" 
 
 "That brings us forcibly to the ground commonly 
 known under the name of conflict between science and 
 religion," remarked Mr. Milton. 
 
 117
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "There would be no ground for the conflict, if you 
 would exercise more faith and less idle reasoning," said 
 Dr. Darling. 
 
 What?" ejaculated Dr. Ihringier, "More faith, you 
 say? But for land s sake, why should we look for faith 
 at all when we have knowledge ? Is not knowledge, such 
 as offered by science, enough for us?" 
 
 "No," replied Dr. Darling, "It is not enough, because 
 science does not give you much. Besides, science is not 
 well posted about the things it teaches. The trouble is 
 that you are relying upon your reasoning too much. 
 What a pity ! This age of materialism and scepticism 
 is permeated with that terrible conceit which makes its 
 followers more than dangerous. O that idle reasoning! 
 Would that you were not so proud of it !" 
 
 "Idle reasoning, you say?" said Mr. Milton. "I am 
 curious to know what would become of you without that 
 reasoning! What is the basis of the whole structure of 
 your theology, if it is not refined reasoning? \Vhat i? 
 it that you are doing now? Is it not reasoning that 
 shines in every phrase you utter defending your position ? 
 Your efforts to explain the creation in six days, and again 
 in regard to the Jewish calendar, is not that a pure and 
 simple reasoning which, although devoid of all possible 
 probabilities, is clothed with that plausible subtility which 
 only the trained mind of a theologian can devise?" 
 
 "No, my friend, an explanation is not a reasoning," 
 answered Dr. Darling 1 , "I simply explained things which 
 you, with your materialistic views, could not understand. 
 This is far from being a reasoning of the sort you use 
 in regard to those matters." 
 
 "Now 1 that we are on the ground," resumed Mr. Milton, 
 
 118
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 "permit me to be frank with you, and tell you, in a general 
 way, some truths which I have gathered during many 
 years of my thinking and observation. Only a little 
 while ago you said that what you profess and teach is 
 nothing but absolute truth. But have you ever thought 
 of the importance of such an utterance? Can you real 
 ize the enormity of the mistake made by such an asser 
 tion? For you will agree with me that today, all think 
 ing men know that there is nothing absolute known to 
 mankind as yet. All that we know is necessarily relative 
 and conditional. Relative as conceptions and conditional 
 with our aptitude of understanding. There is not one 
 principle in the whole Christian doctrine, whether of dog 
 matic nature or disciplinary character, which has not 
 been evolved with the progress of human understanding. 
 Yet we hear incessantly that religious teachers are the 
 only happy possessors of truths which are absolute! 
 What a mockery ! Compare and see where your abso 
 lute truth stands when you face the problem of creation 
 such as taught by you and such as presented by the em 
 pirical knowledge of science. Now, let us have an illus 
 tration and see by what miraculous process the preachers 
 came into possession of that precious absolute truth which, 
 in fact, does not exist. Let us take for instance one of 
 those teachers, whether he be a modest protestant 
 preacher or an ordained priest of one of the older 
 churches. This candidate for the ministry, devotes many 
 of his younger years to special studies in order to qualify 
 himself for the chosen career. He learns the numerous 
 assertions made by men living at intervals during the 
 last nineteen hundred years. These codified assertions 
 represent various branches of ecclesiastical literature 
 
 119
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 known as Dogmatic and Moral Theologies and the so- 
 called Christian philosophy. Once the candidate reaches 
 the desired goal it is his sacred duty to represent the set 
 of teaching the way he has acquired them, namely, as 
 absolute truth.. Assuming that all preachers are honest 
 and upright men, we can not refuse to acknowledge that 
 they preach what they know and believe to be the ab 
 solute truth. But this fact, that preachers see it that way 
 as a result of their clerical education, their good faith, 
 or as a mark of their extreme limitedness, does not alter 
 the other fact, that there is no absolute truth so far known 
 to our race. To corroborate this statement we can take 
 an example from the existing religious bodies. An ab 
 solute truth represents a certain oneness which is loosed 
 from all limitation or condition, uncontrolled, unrestrict 
 ed and unconditional, and as such, necessarily must be 
 knozvn by all alike. This is not the case with our re 
 ligious bodies. The fact that there are somewhere near 
 one hundred distinct Christian churches, each claiming 
 to be the possessor of the only truth, shows that the 
 truth promulgated by them has none of the qualities of 
 absolutism. Otherwise what makes these divisions? If 
 they all teach an absolute truth why these divisions? 
 There must be some cause, and this cause is undoubtedly 
 the conditional understanding they have of that presum 
 ably absolute truth. Those who assert that these divi 
 sions are due solely to the disciplinary motives of their re 
 spective churches betray gross ignorance in the matter, 
 for we all know the freedom of thought and action per 
 mitted in one church would not be tolerated in another 
 and would be considered as sacrilegious in a third one. 
 In other words, what is considered inoffensive in one 
 
 120
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 church is of grave importance in another. You can 
 have a lot of men and women sing 1 for you love songs 
 and the like on the platform of a Methodist church, to 
 which you can applaud to your heart s content; but you 
 cannot do that in any of the older churches such as Cath 
 olic, Episcopal or any of the oriental churches, because 
 such an act would be considered sacrilegious. From the 
 above we see that the conception of God and the manner 
 in which He must be revered in the sanctuary dedicated 
 to him, in one case, namely, in the older churches is that 
 of an aristocrat who sees his God on a golden throne, 
 with all imaginable majesty, who has in his well ap 
 pointed court an army of well trained courtiers dressed 
 in the prescribed uniform of all sorts of colors, shapes and 
 forms. They are governed by the rules and regulations 
 constituting the code of the etiquette of the court, just 
 the same as the courts of European monarchs are today. 
 To such a court, not everybody can be admitted. In case 
 you seek an admission, you must have your credentials 
 sometimes in the shape of your good deeds, and most of 
 the time in the form of an intercession of those who be 
 long to the great court. No levity of any kind permitted, 
 no clapping or shaking hands. Should you be of the 
 number of the happy ones, you must appear in full uni 
 form with all the prescribed formalities and not other 
 wise. In the other case, namely, in the younger religious 
 organizations, the conception of God is that of a Kansas 
 farmer who does not wish to have anything to do with 
 the monarchical form of government. No throne, no 
 courtiers for him. He sees in his God a good friend with 
 whom he can talk in his customary way. He can meet 
 him in any old place in any old fashion. These demo- 
 
 121
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 cratic relations permit him to sing a love song of the 
 girl he saw in the cornfields whenever he pleases in the 
 sanctuary dedicated to his God. He does this in his sim 
 plicity, perfectly convinced that his God will not be of 
 fended, and he is as happy as his neighbor who worships 
 an aristocratic God. These conceptions, human as they 
 are, are real and actual, for I copy them from what I see 
 practiced by our mutual neighbors. Judging from these 
 and a thousand other things which constitute difference 
 amongst Christian churches, we are safe in asserting that 
 the sole cause of it is, the diversity in the understanding 
 of Deity which requires of them a certain recognition of 
 his supremacy in some suitable external form and not a 
 mere formality for the establishment of the government 
 of a given church. 
 
 "The churches claim that they have been established by 
 God, but their practices force us to the inevitable con 
 clusion that they are in the business of establishing God 
 according to their limited and often times crude concep 
 tions, and this shows time and again that there is no such 
 a thing as an absolute truth known to them. This comes 
 from seemingly well educated people, thinking people. 
 Does not this look like a farce? Is not this a more gro 
 tesque chaos than that created by the ignorant ?" 
 
 Dr. Darling listened to the above very attentively, but 
 he did not show any desire to reply. He did not even be 
 tray impatience or displeasure, as one might expect on 
 such an occasion, for he knew Mr. Milton well, and if 
 anything he had only respect and great esteem for his 
 character and ability in discerning things and men. He 
 saw the main object so simply pointed out by him and 
 began thinking whether, after all, he was not right. Ab- 
 
 122
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 solute truth ! O what a problem ! It was not a question 
 whether there was an absolute truth at all; but whether 
 such a truth was known to men. He began to ask, 
 whether he, wishing to be candid to himself, could say 
 that he knew an absolute truth, and was forced to the 
 conclusion that there was no such a thing in his knowl 
 edge. Being himself a thinker, he devoted much of his 
 time to this subject with no satisfactory results, and fin 
 ally concluded to silence all demands for further analysis. 
 He recollected his younger days, while he was studying 
 his theology. Prompted by a noble, lofty desire to serve 
 humanity in a capacity that would be beneficial, he learned 
 the teachings given to him, never doubting the author 
 ity of the giver. Sincere and honest as he was, he had 
 no reason whatsoever to think that the teachings learned 
 by him were not expressions of verity. Every time he 
 learned a new argument of a combatable character 
 against those whom he was told were infidels, he felt 
 proud beyond expression. With well defined aims in 
 view, he proceeded in his studies with the avidity of an 
 honest student. But, when the epoch of his studies passed 
 and when he came in contact with real life and began to 
 read subjects of his choice, his thinking power was 
 awakened. Then the work of analyzing began. This 
 was not the first time he had heard arguments against the 
 possibility of the existence of an absolute truth as a know- 
 able thing to men. But as a natural consequence due to 
 his education and his way of thinking, a logic of his own, 
 no matter how defective, did not fail to build for him 
 a barrier against all sorts of doubt. This, that seemed 
 to him a powerful logic, was crystalized in a perfectly 
 satisfactory manner to him by taking as an unmistakable 
 
 123
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 position, the admission of the existence of God, such as 
 was taught by his church. Once this conception was 
 firmly established in his thoughts, the rest came very easy. 
 "God could not teach a thing which was not absolutely 
 truth." The set of teachings he adhered to came from 
 God, therefore all were nothing but absolutely truth. Be 
 sides, the position of the church was such, that if it did 
 not teach absolute truth, it could not exist. As for the 
 differences amongst the churches, he knew well they ex 
 isted, but this was invariably attributed to some mis 
 takes committed by those who were at the head of a given 
 organization. The assertion that the absolute truth could 
 not at once exist in all contradictory religious sects with 
 out losing its main characteristics, did not annoy him 
 much, for he was told and he believed that all others were 
 at fault except his church, his creed. This was all well 
 until he came to face a stronger logic than his own. He 
 could not deny the existing limitations in men, and when 
 confronted with the absolute truth requiring a total elimi 
 nation of all limitations, he could not face the crisis. It 
 was a problem positively unsolvable by his logic. Then 
 followed his reasoning on the utilitarian tendencies of 
 his religion. It was a good thing, a salutary institution, 
 notwithstanding the difficulties presented by its compli 
 cated teachings, which, in order to secure a standing, in 
 sistently demanded suppression of reasoning, all the 
 while wholly remaining in an open contradiction with 
 the empirical knowledge of the scientific world. When 
 forced by his honesty and fair mindedness, he threw him 
 self at the mercy of the conception which became for him 
 a stronghold of the highest import; "God cannot teach 
 us anything but absolute truth! If there is no absolute 
 
 124
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSEWARMING. 
 
 truth, there is no God! Who would deny this? If any 
 one, it was not he who would do so. Little he thought 
 of the possibility that even the conception of God was 
 subject to the limitations of men. He had not reached 
 that stage of development to understand and admit this 
 self evident truth, and this is why he was timid and hor 
 ror stricken at the bare admission of such a course. This 
 state of mind made him listen patiently to all that others 
 had to say, unconscious of the fact that little by little his 
 mind began to run into forbidden channels. Thus buried 
 in his thoughts, his meditation was abruptly brought to 
 an end by Count Morat addressing Mr. Milton. 
 
 "Permit me to tell you, my friend," said he, "that your 
 short review of the existing chaos produced by the divers 
 ity of religious teachings, undoubtedly was an able one. 
 Of course, this is a subject which cannot be exhausted 
 in a short discussion; but, I notice that your studies of 
 orientals have furnished you good and reliable data on 
 which you base your conclusions. That there is a con 
 fusion created by the diversity in understanding the teach 
 ings presumably imported from the Orient, there is not 
 the slightest doubt. But, what is the most important to 
 my mind is the fact that you see so clearly the working 
 causes of this multitude of opinions on the same subject. 
 The people who differ so vastly in regard to a conception 
 which they call absolute are not to be blamed. The man 
 who sees the sun travel over the world and disappear in 
 the unknown abyss, is entitled to his opinion as much as 
 the one who scientifically knows the absurdity of such an 
 assertion. For after all, what is a religion? A religion 
 is an expression of the process of evolution in accordance 
 with the mental demand of the people at a given time. 
 
 125
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 This definition is suggested by the experiences that our 
 race has had in the past. There was a time when the 
 Babylonian religion flourished. Egyptians took their 
 turn, and when Greeks and Romans produced theirs, it 
 was thought that humanity had reached the highest ideal 
 ever conceived by men. But the following ages showed 
 that was not the case, for these religions all went into ob 
 livion long ago. Now speaking of those religions, we call 
 them Mythologies, perhaps forgetful of the fact that 
 while they were in existence in the mind of the masses, 
 they were as real as the Christian religion is today. 
 They existed for a period of time and were professed by 
 the people as absolute truths with as much certainty as 
 the Christians do today because their mentality demanded 
 such an expression in regard to the unknown as contained 
 in those religions. Subject to the law of evolution, these 
 conceptions improved gradually until they reached the 
 mark of our times ; and now as ever the same law of evol 
 ution does its work going on and on until the time will 
 come when our epoch with its picturesque religions will 
 be labelled as one of the number of great mythologies of 
 the past. Speaking of the existing order of today, in 
 conformity with the definition given above, we can not 
 fail to see its temporary application, for as a set of teach 
 ings, although purely and entirely human, destined to ex 
 plain the mysteries of life, it represents a cherished legacy 
 to those who are in harmony with it. The question 
 whether the explanation furnished by the existing relig 
 ions explains anything at all, is to be answered by each 
 individual for himself. If one is satisfied with it, so much 
 the better for him. He will believe in it, but not forever. 
 Progress will do its work until he outgrows his own 
 
 126
 
 A SCIENTIFIC HOUSE WARMING. 
 
 stage. But before that, it would be in vain for anyone to 
 try to take away from him that which he values so much. 
 If he is not satisfied with the explanations furnished by his 
 religious teachings, he would be troubled; he will run in 
 search of something better; he will devote much of his 
 time and labor to researches and studies, as you and I 
 have done. And, when the student is ready, the teacher 
 is always found. This is a saying of old sages. Thus 
 we see that each man individually must progress for him 
 self as much in his spiritual needs as he does in his tem 
 poral ones." 
 
 The big clock standing in a corner of the parlor an 
 nounced midnight by the vibrating sounds of its harmo 
 nious bell, as though to echo the last words of Count 
 Morat. 
 
 The room seemed to be filled with an immense quantity 
 of all sorts of geometrical figures moving in the space 
 freely, and diffusing various delicate shades of blue yel 
 low and violet colors. 
 
 The momentary silence which followed the last vibrat 
 ing sound of the clock reigned undisturbed as though its 
 magic effect had thrown a forbidding spell upon those 
 present. 
 
 But Dr. Darling did not notice this. His attention was 
 firmly fixed on the sentence hanging in burning letters 
 before him: "No absolute truth known to us! How can 
 we give others what we do not possess ? Are we not de 
 ceiving ourselves and others?" He would have thus re 
 mained in his deep thought indefinitely, if it had not been 
 for the vivacious Mr. Irving, who broke the silence by re 
 minding him that he did not answer yet the question put 
 to him early in the evening by Dr. Ihringier. To this, 
 
 127
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 after having- ascertained by looking at the clock how late 
 it was, Dr. Darling replied that he must leave that ques 
 tion unanswered until a more favorable occasion pre 
 sented itself. Saying this, he arose, and the rest followed 
 him. They all thanked Count Morat for the cordial re 
 ception extended to them and left the room. But, while 
 in the hall, after having wished them good night, the 
 Count said to his friends : 
 
 "Gentlemen, after all, we had a housewarming that 
 was really scientific." 
 
 The Chaldean closed the door and followed his master 
 to his room.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MORE SCIENTIFIC PROBLEMS. 
 
 Next morning, according to the previously arranged 
 programme, Mr. Milton made his appearance on Al- 
 varado street. It was Count Morat s desire to familiarize 
 himself with the city of his new home, and he had asked 
 Mr. Milton to accompany him in his carriage. The beau 
 tiful team of white horses, hitched to a landeau, was in 
 waiting at the side entrance of the house. Shortly Count 
 Morat appeared, and, taking his seat in the carriage, hav 
 ing Mr. Milton on his left, gave directions to his faithful 
 Yonan, who was seated next to the driver and they drove 
 towards the center of the city. They passed the pretty 
 Central Park, always animated by the recreation seeking 
 people, and reached beautiful Broadway, the most attrac 
 tive thorou/ghfare in the business section. Here, admir 
 ing the prevailing artistic architecture of the several 
 newly constructed buildings in shining white tile, Mr. 
 Milton told the story of the marvellous growth of the 
 city. Listening attentively to his companion, Count 
 Morat seemed equally interested in the picturesqueness 
 
 129
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 of a fashionable public then on the wide sidewalks, for 
 he observed that the picture was of a fascinating quality. 
 Thus driving, they reached the historic Plaza, which is 
 simply a pretty little round public park. "It was here," 
 said Mr. Milton, "that on September 4th, 1781, the 
 Spanish Pueblo bearing the titular name of its parochial 
 church, Nuestra Senora Reina de Los Angeles, (Our 
 Lady Queen of Angels) was founded by Spanish soldiers 
 who came from the San Gabriel mission, under the pro 
 tection of the Spanish governor; and it is from this or 
 igin that the present city derives its name, using only 
 its last two words. But, instead of becoming the center 
 of the city as it was originally intended, the Plaza, with 
 its old church, remains as a landmark of olden times 
 while the city grew rapidly in the direction of the south 
 and southwest. Following- Buena Vista street they 
 reached Elysian Park, occupying an area of five hundred 
 acres, spread on several high hills, affording a most 
 charming view of the city and its surroundings. The 
 winding wide road leading through the park, all the 
 while encountering new landscapes of rich and varied 
 flora, produced a pleasing impression; but shortly Count 
 Morat was delightfully surprised when his attention was 
 called to a little ranch below the hill where they were 
 stopping. Thousands and thousands of pigeons of vari 
 ous colors flew around this unique ranch, at times mak 
 ing it impossible to see the roof of the farm-house which 
 was literally covered with the lively birds. "Certainly a 
 picture worth seeing," said the Count, while returning to 
 the city. On their way, they visited the Ostrich-farm, 
 the Indian-farm, the most curious collection of cacti in 
 the East Lake Park, and several other typical California 
 
 130
 
 MORE SCIENTIFIC PROBLEMS. 
 
 places of interest. Finally, after having stopped for 
 luncheon in one of the well conducted hostelries located 
 in the heart of the city, they drove to the Westlake 
 Park, where Count Morat dismissed his carriage, an- 
 nounciiig his intention of taking a walk in the park with 
 Mr. Milton. The Count was greatly charmed with the 
 artistic landscape of the park. While walking leisurely 
 around the lake and discussing the beauties of the plants, 
 and the great variety of aquatic birds they saw there, 
 they were pleasantly surprised by meeting Dr. Ihringier, 
 who was returning from one of his professional calls. 
 
 "O what a pleasure! What an unexpected meeting, * 
 exclaimed Dr. Ihringier, shaking hands cordially. "If 
 human will has anything to do with our desires, it cer 
 tainly has gratified mine. For I was longing to see you, 
 dear Count, since I left your house last night, or rather 
 this morning; so much so that I could hardly sleep!" 
 
 "I suppose a sort of scientific insomnia," said Mr. Mil- 
 Ion, taking a seat on an unoccupied bench under (he 
 shade of a splendidly grown palm tree. 
 
 "You guessed correctly," replied Dr. Ihringier, follow 
 ing Mr. Milton s example, taking a seat on the one end 
 of the bench. Then turning to the Count, who sat be 
 tween them, he said : 
 
 "It was of you, dear Count, that I have been thinking 
 all this time." 
 
 "Of me?" inquired Count Morat, laughing heartily. 
 "Were I a woman of some beauty, I might have reason 
 to feel proud, but, as it is, I hardly can imagine how I 
 could disturb your night s sleep." 
 
 "Yet, the truth is that you were the object of my 
 thoughts during my morning hours," answered Dr. 
 
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 Ihringier. "Let me tell you, in short. The problem 
 which kept me busy thinking was the fact that I could 
 not define the attitude you took last night in regard to 
 the authority of science. As far as I could grasp your 
 way of thinking, I understood that you were in perfect 
 harmony with science and its researches. But, when you 
 advanced your views purporting to show the untenability 
 of the assertions made by science, in a way that stood 
 openly in opposition to self-evident empirical truths, I 
 was nonplussed. Your statement that the tenet of the 
 dualistic school can have a correct interpretation by and 
 through empirical knowledge, puzzled me more than I 
 can tell. Moreover, when I began to consider your ad 
 herence to the fact, so eloquently advanced by Mr. Mil 
 ton, that a truth cannot exist in two contradictory asser 
 tions at the same time, on the same subject, without los 
 ing its value of veracity, I found myself at a loss, not 
 knowing how to reconcile your attitude with the above 
 facts. Facing such a problem, you will agree with me 
 that I had an unsolvable dilemma before me." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," answered Count Morat. "It must have 
 been a dilemma to you, if not necessarily unsolvable, 
 quite difficult for solution, at any rate. But when you 
 consider that this is only a result of your own reasoning, 
 you can easily understand that you are a victim of your 
 own defective system of thinking. To rectify this, let 
 me help you in a bit of analyzing. Before, however, I 
 shall proceed with that, please consider that the able dis 
 sertation of Mr. Milton in regard to the impossibility 
 of the existence of an absolute truth as a knowable thing, 
 is as much applicable to science as to religious beliefs 
 In other words, there is nothing known even by science 
 
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 which can represent an absolute truth. All things, or 
 rather, all our conceptions of things are often times mis 
 leading and always conditional. The truth of the past is 
 often a mark of ignorance in the future. This we know 
 by looking backward in the gradual progression of sci 
 ence. What happened in the past will and must happen 
 in the future, for we are only beginning to understand 
 our environment. That this assumption is not without a 
 basis, even the great monist, whom you were pleased to 
 quote last night, recognizes by showing the necessity of 
 holding the known scientific truths as long as there arc 
 no better ones. This is what he says : 
 
 " The theory of gravitation in astronomy (Newton), 
 the nebular theory in cosmogony (Kant and Laplace), 
 the principle of energy in physics (Meyer and Helrn- 
 holtz), the atomic theory in chemistry (Dalton), the 
 vibratory theory in optics (Huyghens), the cellular the 
 ory in histology (Schleiden and Schwann), and the the 
 ory of descent in biology (Lamark and Darwin), are all 
 important theories of the first rank; they explain a whole 
 world of natural phenomena by the assumption of a com 
 mon cause for all the several facts of their respective 
 provinces, and by showing that all the phenomena there 
 of are inter-connected and controlled by laws which issue 
 from this common cause. Yet, the cause itself may re 
 main obscure in character, or be merely a "provisional 
 hypothesis." The "force of gravity" in the theory of 
 gravitation and in cosmogony, "energy" itself in its rela 
 tion to matter, the "ether" of optics and electricity, the 
 "atom" of the chemist, the living "protoplasm" of histol 
 ogy, the "heredity" of the evolutionist these and similar 
 conceptions of other great theories may be regarded by 
 
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 a sceptical philosophy as "mere hypotheses" and the out 
 come of scientic "faith," yet they are indispensable for 
 us until they are replaced by better hypotheses. "(*) 
 "According to the above, as you see, although the 
 enumerated scientific sources represent an indispensable 
 quantum for us today, they are anything but absolute. 
 They may be recognized as mere hypotheses in the fu 
 ture, simply by the new discovery of some law govern 
 ing the universe or some portion of it but hitherto un 
 known to us. It happened in the past when the old and 
 exact science of Chemistry had to be reconstructed ow 
 ing to the new chemical law of the persistence of mat 
 ter, which was detected by the French philosopher La 
 voisier only in 1789. The same thing happened with 
 the science of physics, which found for its present basis 
 the new law of the persistence and conservation of en 
 ergy discovered by Mayer only in 1842. I repeat, what 
 happened in the past wall happen in the future. This be 
 ing the case, what makes you think that your knowledge 
 of today is such an imposing and positive authority that 
 any theory or any advanced fact in opposition to it must 
 be necessarily considered erroneous? The cause of a 
 dilemma of your own make is the position you take by 
 claiming absolutism for what you scientifically know, 
 and this is a mistake. Taking in consideration the above 
 quoted statement, you must bear in mind that, although 
 science explains a ivhole world of natural phenomena, it 
 has not found as yet the key for the solution of all phe 
 nomena. We can, and we should, employ the known 
 scientific methods in our researches, but it does not fol 
 low that we cannot employ some other methods un- 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. The Riddle. Page 300. 
 
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 known to the western school of sciences and which may 
 give us equally good results. Now let us take up the 
 dilemma you have on hand. You say that a scientifically 
 thinking man, which in your language would mean a 
 man who thinks the way monists do, cannot admit that 
 the dualistic school can have any scientific standing. Am 
 I correct?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Dr. Ihringier. "Is not that logical?" 
 
 "From your stand-point, yes," remarked Mr. Milton; 
 "provided, assertions made by your school are correct. 
 But this is not the case, as you know from the analysis 
 of Count Morat clearly shown in the discussion of last 
 night. However, in order to proceed intelligently, let 
 us specify the main question. Now, what do you find 
 objectionable in the dualistic teachings, Doctor?" 
 
 "Why, of course, the admission of dualism in all, and 
 especially in man," answered Dr. Ihringier. "We will 
 not discuss respecting the origin of the Universe, whether 
 it is self-existent self-created, or created by an external 
 agency. This is a subject covering a wider scope than I 
 would care to enter into now. What interests me the 
 most is, man. It is only proper that we should start 
 from the nearest point to us." 
 
 "Then the question would be simply this; is there an 
 immortal, immaterial soul in man? Am I correct, Doc 
 tor?" asked Mr. Milton, 
 
 "Yes," replied the physician; "and if there is one, 
 what scientific proofs can support such an assertion? 
 For, according to the system of thinking advanced by 
 the Count, I expect no other proofs but those which can 
 stand a scientific investigation." 
 
 "That is only proper," remarked Count Morat; "for 
 
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 I certainly shall not use any but those arguments which 
 are in harmony with the principles of science. To make 
 it stronger, I shall use exclusively the identical words 
 and illustrations of men of science, as the only reliable 
 source for our purpose. But, before I touch the subject, 
 I must call your attention to some varieties of the dualis- 
 tic teachings now in existence. Last night, while Mr. 
 Milton was defining the position you took in the discus 
 sion and that of Dr. Darling, he said that the reverend 
 gentleman represented the dualistic school. Now in de 
 fending the dualistic school, or rather, if I have to fol 
 low your wishes, its teachings in regard to the existence 
 of the human soul, I do not wish to be identified with 
 the dualistic teachings represented by that clergyman. 
 For, as we all know, he knows that he has a soul, be 
 cause he believes that he has one. In other words, his 
 knowledge of the existence of the soul is based solely 
 on his faith. Such an argument as this neither one of 
 us can accept. Besides, the process connected with the 
 existence of his soul is of such crude and grotesque con 
 ception that by no means can it have any connection with 
 the real conditions. We also know from his faith and 
 teachings that his soul, or rather his whole entity soul 
 and body was created when he was conceived by his 
 mother, which goes to show that he is a new creation; 
 an assertion which, according to a rational and scientific 
 reasoning, is absurd. Who does not know the fact that 
 there is nothing new under the sun? The strictest sci 
 entific investigations show that there is no new matter 
 coming into existence under any form, at any time. All 
 that we see, whether belonging to the so-called organic 
 or inorganic matter, has been in existence for millions of 
 
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 years and will continue to exist for many millions to 
 come. The only process that takes place is that of transi 
 tion from one into another form. The atoms which con 
 stitute the substance of things known to us are neither 
 old nor young. They have no age. They are always 
 the same. Man is composed of atoms which have been 
 in existence long before he was born. This is a demon 
 strated and well known fact. This being the case, how 
 can we reconcile the above facts with the teaching that 
 every man is a specially created entity? In order to es 
 tablish the teaching in question, we must show the work 
 ings of such creation which we know does not exist and 
 consequently the theory has no standing whatsoever. 
 The one who believes in that theory, should he be a 
 thinker, finds himself in a quite embarrassing position. 
 He asks himself, why is he living? He was born with 
 out his knowledge and consent, and will die subject to 
 the same limitations; and why so? The question re 
 mains unanswered. If human intellect is a part of hu 
 manity, it must be able to find some reasonable solution 
 in things belonging to humanity. Why, what is the pur 
 pose of this life? When a believer is troubled with such 
 a question, the spiritual leader under whose care he hap 
 pens to be, hastens with a consoling answer, which 
 sounds like this : The Almighty created you to obey his 
 commandments ; when this is done, after your death, you 
 will be permitted to go to heaven. To the question, what 
 will he be doing in heaven, the answer is nothing; or 
 the next best he could advise you would be, to display 
 your musical talents there. I am sure Dr. Darling be 
 lieves, when he dies, he will go to heaven and be playing 
 a guitar or some other suitable instrument for the rest
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 of eternity. Now let us look into this second phase of 
 a believer s existence. No matter what sort of life he 
 leads in his terrestrial abode he is destined to suffer 
 eternal tortures. If he has been a rascal, a criminal, he 
 will have to suffer in the burning fire of hell. If he has 
 been an honest man, he is destined to suffer eternal in 
 activity in heaven. The conception of happiness in the 
 Italian dolce far nicnte, the sweet idleness, which is the 
 only promise of heaven, is a strong attraction to those 
 who are still living in their animal life. But humanity 
 of today is gradually growing out of that stage. Do you 
 think you will find an intelligent man who would seek 
 his happiness in idleness? The worst punishment you 
 can invent for an intelligent entity would be to deprive 
 him of his activity. Yet, this is the only prospect for 
 an honest man if he is a believer in the dualistic teach 
 ings represented by our friend Dr. Darling. A dualistic 
 teaching such as this can be accepted only by those who 
 are utterly deprived of power of rational thinking, and 
 this is not the dualistic teaching that I will defend. The 
 one I profess, starts with this : I believe I have a soul, 
 because I know I have one. This is a profession of what 
 has been, and can be, demonstrated at any time. The 
 difference between what I defend and that of our friend 
 Dr. Darling is in this. He knows that he has a soul, be 
 cause he believes; I believe that I have a soul, because I 
 know I have one. This teaching is not based on any 
 belief; for there is no place for believing. This is a 
 knowledge, an empirical knowledge, if you please, and 
 it is as simple and as comprehensive as the formation 
 and the disappearance of a morning dew. Above all it 
 is true to the laws of nature. But, unfortunately, little 
 
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 known to the western world. However, when we con 
 sider that the greater number of souls never even suspect 
 their own existence, the matter is explained. Out of the 
 fourteen hundred millions of human beings who people 
 the earth, ninety-nine-one-hundredths do not think. Great 
 heavens ! What would they do with immortality ? Think 
 ing souls are the inheritance of the intellectual life, 
 and though their number is mighty small, they preserve 
 humanity s patrimony, and increase it for the future. 
 But, I see, I am advancing my views too rapidly. I 
 promised to deal with this question only scientifically, 
 and this is what I intend to do. In the first place, let us 
 investigate the appearance of man. Let us see of what 
 his body is composed. The strictest scientific investiga 
 tion shows, that an average adult man weighs one hun 
 dred and forty pounds. Of this amount there are nearly 
 one hundred and four pounds of water in the blood and 
 rlesh. Analyze the substance of our body and you will 
 find albumen, fibrine caseine, and gelatine; that is, or 
 ganic substances composed originally of the four essen 
 tial gases, oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, and carbonic acid. 
 You will also find substances with no nitrogen, such as 
 gum, sugar, starch and fat. These matters likewise pass 
 through our organism; their carbon and hydrogen are 
 consumed by the oxygen breathed in during respiration, 
 and then exhaled under the form of carbonic acid and 
 water. Of course you know that water is a combination 
 of two gases, oxygen and hydrogen ; the air is a mixture 
 of two gases, oxygen and nitrogen, to which are added 
 in lesser proportions, water in the form of vapor, which 
 however is but condensed oxygen, etc. Thus you see our 
 body is composed only of transformed gases. Now, be- 
 
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 fore I go farther, let me ask you, Doctor, do you find 
 this to be correct?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," replied Dr. Ihringier. "The scientific 
 analysis of the human body shows exactly what you say. 
 But we have nothing to do with that part. We deal with 
 what we see; the visible body of man, as such." 
 
 "Exactly," resumed Count Morat. "But, how sadly 
 we are deceived by appearances of the visible, only those 
 know who make special studies of these subjects, and 
 they, unfortunately, are very few. We see only effects 
 of the real, and think it to be all, yet that is not the case, 
 for the real is the invisible. The appearances of the 
 movements of our Sun deceive us. If we would believe 
 what we see, it would be folly to admit that our globe is 
 round, and still greater folly to assert that we are living 
 on a whirling projectile, thrown into space with a speed 
 seventy-five times as great as that which carries a can 
 non-ball; and yet, this is only true. We delight in hear 
 ing harmonious music, pleasing sounds produced by 
 chimes and the like. If we would believe our sensations, 
 it would be folly to admit that sound does not exist ; that 
 it is only an impression of our senses, produced by vibra 
 tions of a certain size and rapidity on the air, which in 
 themselves have no sound ; that, take away from the man 
 his acoustic nerve, and he will hear nothing; yet, this 
 is only true. We enjoy looking at the radiant colors of 
 the rainbow; we are charmed with the pretty colors of 
 bright flowers which represent a world of beauty of their 
 own. If we would believe what we see, it would be 
 folly to say that there are no colors; there is no light; 
 there is nothing but the ether waves, which cause a vibra 
 tion of the optic nerve. Yet, this is only true. The sun 
 
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 warms and fertilizes; fire burns. This is what we sense 
 and know, yet actually there is no heat, no light, for this 
 is only one form of motion, invisible but supreme motion. 
 We see a strong- iron beam used in the construction of 
 a building. It is set up in, space twenty or more feet 
 high, being supported only by its two ends lying on the 
 two walls separated by a distance of another twenty feet. 
 We call and believe that iron solid, in fact the most solid 
 thing that we know of. It stands an enormous weight, 
 so that a level hardly can find a depression in it ; yet, this 
 iron beam is composed of particles which do not touch 
 each other, which are in perpetual vibration, which sep 
 arate under the influence of heat, and are drawn together 
 by cold. Now the question arises, in what does the solid 
 ity of this bar consist? Knowing that its particles do 
 not touch each other can you say that its solidity con 
 sists in its material atoms? No, its solidity does not con 
 sist in that which we see ; its solidity lies in the invisible 
 force. Here is the first lesson of the invisible which you 
 do not realize, yet you certainly must admit its exis 
 tence, for it is there; it holds the atoms together to 
 make them appear to your senses as a solid thing. You 
 are not unaware of the fact that strictly speaking there 
 is nothing solid that we know of. The house, furniture, 
 carpets, and all the rest we see and recognize as solid 
 things, are composed of particles which do not touch 
 each other, but are in constant motion, circulating around 
 each other. Similarly, the constituent atoms of a piece 
 of iron, of marble, of clay, of a molecule of water, or of 
 air, of oxygen or hydrogen, are not soldered solidly to 
 gether, as they appear to be, but are isolated, separated, 
 in the same manner as the planets, the worlds of the 
 
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 Universe, are separated the one from the other. There 
 is nothing absolutely solid! Thus, you mark what we 
 see is deceitful. The real is the invisible. Do you find 
 this to be correct, Doctor?" 
 
 "Why, yes, provided the atomic theory is correct," 
 answered Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 "What? You don t mean to question a theory which 
 has the scientific stamp, do you? Don t you recognize 
 the atomic theory to be as indispensable for us, as the 
 rest of the long list of scientific theories?" inquired 
 Count Morat. 
 
 "Undoubtedly I do, but what I want to say is simply 
 this ; that I never saw an atom," remarked Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 "Nevertheless the theory has a scientific standing," 
 said Count Morat. "Here again we face the fact, that 
 we want to be guided by our gross senses. The more we 
 become familiar with the laws of nature, the more we 
 see our limitations. That we do not see a multitude of 
 things, does not follow that they do not exist." 
 
 "Yes, we have to admit that," said Dr. Ihringier. 
 somewhat hesitatingly. "But to what does that lead us?" 
 
 "To the fact that what we see is not the real. The 
 real is the invisible." resumed Count Morat. "Now let 
 us come back to our main subject, namely, the human 
 body. Having described of what the human body is 
 composed, which of course can be verified by any scien 
 tist, let us now see the molecular structure of it. The 
 body is an assemblage of molecules formed in their 
 turn by groups of atoms. The atoms are unchangeable 
 and indestructible. They enter into the organism by 
 means of respiration and alimentation, constantly renew 
 ing the tissues, are replaced by others, and, leaving the 
 
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 body with life, go to form other bodies. In a few 
 months, and not in seven years as was formerly thought, 
 the human body is completely renewed, and neither in 
 the blood, nor in the flesh, nor in the brain, nor in the 
 bones, does there remain a single atom of those that con 
 stituted the body of a few months previously. By the 
 great medium of the atmosphere especially, do the atoms 
 pass ceaselessly from one body to another. The molecule 
 of iron is the same whether it is incorporated in the 
 blood which throbs in the brain of a man of genius, or 
 forms part of a worthless fragment of rusty iron. The 
 molecule of oxygen is the same whether it shines in the 
 tender glance of the bride, or uniting with hydrogen, 
 burns in one of the innumerable lights that are used in 
 the city of Los Angeles during the night, or descends in 
 a rain drop from the bosom of the clouds. The bodies 
 now living are formed from the ashes of the dead; and 
 even during life an interchange of atoms takes place be 
 tween enemies and friends, between men, animals and 
 plants, which would startle the eye that could perceive it. 
 Such is the human body, an assemblage of material 
 molecules the atoms of which do not touch each other 
 and which are constantly being renewed. From this de 
 scription, which is strictly scientific, we must come to 
 the one and inevitable conclusion that man, is composed 
 of two distinct bodies; one is the body which we see, and 
 which is composed principally of four known solidified 
 essential gases, in a molecular form, and the other is the 
 body which we do not see, and which is composed ex 
 clusively of finer matter in an ethereal form, occupying 
 its place between the atoms. For the lack of a better 
 word, I am using ethereal, simply intending to say that 
 
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 it is somewhat similar to ether, being like ether, impon 
 derable with a consistency which is neither gaseous nor 
 fluid nor solid, and being of a continuous structure, that 
 is to say not atomistic, not made up of separated par 
 ticles, (atoms). We should not forget that the atoms do 
 not touch each other and that the space between atoms 
 is larger than the atom itself. The first, known as a 
 physical body, is visible to anyone, and the other, which 
 we will call the finer body, its name in Sanskrit being 
 linga-sarira, is visible only to some people." 
 
 "That is something new," exclaimed Dr. Ihringier. 
 "The physical body described by you, agrees perfectly 
 with the knowledge at our disposal. But that finer body 
 of which you speak is entirely new to science. We can 
 not admit the existence of a thing which is not corrob 
 orated by experimental knowledge. Whether knowingly 
 or unknowingly, certainly you are shifting from the sci 
 entific ground. Besides, what has that finer body, as 
 you call it, to do with the body of atoms?" 
 
 "To keep these atoms together in an apparently solid 
 form," replied Count Morat. "I repeat the fact that 
 atoms do not touch each other. Have you ever thought 
 what keeps these atoms together? You will say. the 
 molecular attraction, which is as intelligible as other sim 
 ilar scientific formulas. But here we have a case which 
 does not need to be clothed with any mysterious name. 
 The fact is that the space between the atoms is occupied 
 with a finer matter than that which constitutes the sub 
 stance of the atoms. You cannot deny the fact that 
 there is no void space anywhere. All is permeated with 
 the eternally vibrating ether. Hence, can t you see the 
 simplicity of the case, that the space between the atoms 
 
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 indicates the presence of a finer substance than that con 
 stituting atoms ? Now, if you will disband the material 
 atoms, can you avoid the inevitable fact that there will 
 remain a body which has a perfect continuous structure 
 and represents the exact size and form of the body which 
 is visible to us? From this fact you must come to the 
 inevitable conclusion, that it is this finer body which 
 holds the molecular structure together, otherwise the 
 atoms composing the physical body would necessarily 
 scatter around, and there would be no visible individuals. 
 It is due solely to the peculiar attributes of that finer 
 substance, constituting the inner body so wonderfully 
 interwoven with the physical, that we can see the high 
 est and the most perfect production of mammals. Should 
 you succeed in removing that finer body you will succeed 
 in destroying the physical body, for, the moment this 
 happens, the molecules with their atoms will start their 
 migration instantly and, in short, there will be nothing 
 left of the physical. This finer body of man, is the only 
 power which keeps molecules together. It does so be 
 cause of its peculiar forces. Your assertion that you can 
 not admit the existence of a thing which is not corrob 
 orated by empirical knowledge, is only correct. Besides 
 the fact, that we know scientifically its presence in the 
 human body as I demonstrated, we know also by the ex 
 perimental knowledge that this finer body when it leaves 
 the physical, accomplishes what we call death ; and while 
 the physical starts its gradual disappearance, the finer 
 body, which is an exact counterpart of the physical, 
 carrying in itself still higher principles of man, continues 
 to live, exactly in the same form as it lived in the physical 
 body; with the only difference that being imponderable 
 
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 it ceases to be subject to the laws of gravitation and 
 other laws governing- ponderable matter. As such, it 
 has been seen by many and still continues to be seen by 
 thousands and thousands of living people of our days." 
 
 "This sounds like a ghost story," remarked Dr. Ihrin- 
 gier, somewhat surprised. "Are you really serious about 
 what you say?" 
 
 "Most assuredly," answered Count Morat. "You may 
 call it a ghost story, as others do, simply because the 
 people who have seen this finer body of one of their own, 
 not knowing its nature, have given to it different names, 
 such as ghost, ethereal body, fluidic body, the double, 
 the wraith, etc. Now let us reason. If people really 
 did not see such a thing, why would we have these 
 names, indicating an apparition the nature of which was 
 not known to them? The fact is that they have seen 
 the exact counterpart of their friends, relations or 
 parents so vividly that they could not help recognizing 
 them. To corroborate this we have a mass of evidence 
 from the testimony of distinguished individuals of our 
 own times. This has been known to the people in all 
 ages, and has given rise to many superstitions and mys 
 teries, owing solely to the lack of knowledge of its nature. 
 But today with our advanced knowledge of nature and 
 its laws we do not see anything unnatural nor mysterious 
 about it. The old fashioned cry of the pseudo-scientists 
 and semi-naturalists consisting of hallucination and 
 imagination does not explain anything. If any explana 
 tion is obtainable at all, we must have it direct from the 
 laws of nature. But, let us come to the point. In order 
 not to keep you any longer in suspense, let me tell you 
 at once what I have been aiming at. By speaking of this 
 
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 finer body, I wished to follow the natural order of things, 
 giving you one by one the seven principles of which man 
 is composed and which are: physical body, finer body, 
 vital force, instinctive mind, intellect, spiritual mind, and 
 the last and highest, which animates and supports all, 
 Spirit immortal, immaterial. This is of what man is 
 composed. We know this not by the dictation of any 
 creed or belief, but simply by empirical knowledge. How 
 ever, to those who never thought of the complexity of 
 man s entity, this might seem like a story good perhaps 
 for less sophisticated people. Yet, this is only true, and 
 a fact which can be verified at any time by those who are 
 interested in it." 
 
 "This fascinating explanation of the finer body in 
 man, given in such a tangible way, simply astounds me," 
 said Mr. Milton. "As you know, I have been following 
 these studies with you, Count, but I must confess I never 
 knew of the presence of this finer body in the way you 
 describe it now." 
 
 "I took that method of explaining it simply because 
 that is the only way it can be explained when you start 
 from the bottom, that is, from the lowest principle of 
 man," resumed Count Morat. "Besides, this method of 
 reasoning is a necessity when you deal with the students 
 of the western school. They had so much of the spirit 
 ual and spirituality in all possible forms and shapes, that 
 they resolved to keep to the matter, solid, visible and 
 tangible. They are not to be blamed. After all it is 
 only natural that they should demand such an argument 
 as would satisfy their way of thinking. Nevertheless 
 the fact remains that it is I who possess my body and not 
 my body that possesses me, that is, my soul." 
 
 147
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "This is beginning to be interesting-," exclaimed Dr. 
 Ihringier. "I am quite curious to know how you are 
 going to show the existence of an immortal soul in man." 
 
 "To show the existence of an immortal soul in man 
 is a much easier task for me, than the understanding of 
 it for you," replied Count Morat thoughtfully. "In un 
 dertaking this, all I have to do is to tell you what and 
 how I know of its existence. But the trouble comes with 
 you in the following; i. You think and believe that, if 
 there is any knowledge obtainable at all, on this or any 
 other subject, it must come only from those sources 
 which are known to you. 2. You think and believe that 
 the information furnished by science known to you, is of 
 such a commanding character and contains so much of 
 that stuff which you call scientific truths, that any at 
 tempt to adopt anything that might in any way contra 
 dict them, would be a tremendous destruction of the 
 established logic in your brain. 3. You think and believe 
 that any serious consideration of subjects unknown to 
 the scientists representing your school, would be detri 
 mental to the solidity of your understanding. These 
 views and beliefs force you to ignore: i. That empirical 
 knowledge is not only that one which is acquired by the 
 professors of the western scientific creed. 2. That con 
 clusions made by one set of scientists do not represent 
 anything of wider scope than that which comprises their 
 personal views, and which necessarily are subject to ever- 
 present limitations, nor will the observations of others 
 constitute a mistaken opinion because not agreeing with 
 the first; and 3. That there are thousands of things not 
 observed by the scientists of the west, while they are 
 well known to those of the east ; and the empirical knowl- 
 
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 edge from this source is as much authoritative as any 
 known under that name." 
 
 "In other words," remarked Mr. Milton, "the argu 
 ment must stand for its own merit regardless of the 
 sources from where it came. Is that it, Count?" 
 
 "Precisely," answered the Count. "But this does not 
 mean that in order to accept one you destroy the other. 
 There are scientific principles by which certainly we 
 ought to be guided in our researches, but by no means 
 are we to be hampered by them in the rational solutions 
 we are bound to make. Science of the past as well as 
 that of our days is in constant researches for the explana 
 tions of those few natural laws which are somewhat 
 known to us. But we must remember that what science 
 knows today is equal to nothing when compared with 
 what it does not know. Any assertion based on supposi 
 tion is as much a folly as a denial for the same reason. 
 That some of the western scientists are bold enough to 
 say that man is only \vhat they see in him, does not 
 mean anything, except the fact that they exhibit their 
 limitations. This we ought not to take seriously nor 
 much less be guided by it. Dr. Ihringier has made up 
 his scientific mind that man is nothing but a piece of 
 flesh, such as he sees him. This knowledge he acquired 
 during many years of tedious studies, all that time his 
 thinking faculties remaining under the hammer of the 
 monistic school he adheres to, so that, finally his logic has 
 been shaped in a manner where nothing else seems to 
 be admissible except what comes from under the pres 
 sure of that same hammer. And this is why his genial 
 intellect rebels against the old truth that man has an im 
 mortal soul." 
 
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 "Count," said Dr. Ihringier, somewhat embarrassed, 
 "your remarks are strong and healthy. I must acknowl 
 edge, that you have described the conditions of my think 
 ing power very accurately. But I hope you will also 
 recognize the fact that this same procedure takes place 
 in all directions wherever one submits himself for train 
 ing, and for this very reason we cannot be too careful 
 in the acceptance of such truth as does not harmoni/e 
 with ours. However, let us come to the point, and let 
 us have your views upon the subject before us." 
 
 "Willingly," said Count Morat. "Having described 
 man s physical body and his finer body, now I have to 
 take up the next higher principle, which is the vital force. 
 Please remember that this vital force is not the soul or 
 spirit of man, as monists are pleased to assert. This 
 vital force is not anything stationary in man s organism. 
 It has its origin in the universal vital force and it is ob 
 tained by man through his breathing; and this is why 
 human life is absolutely dependent upon breathing. For 
 breathing is the life itself. As you know, whether in 
 man, in animals or plants, we find that breathing is ab 
 solutely necessary for the continuance of existence. You 
 can live for some time without eating and drinking, but 
 you cannot live without breathing. From the moment 
 man is conceived by his mother, to the moment he ex 
 pires his last breath, his life is one continuous breath 
 ing. Now let me ask you, what are we breathing? Your 
 answer will be of course, that we are breathing air, a 
 mixture of two gases oxygen and nitrogen. This is the 
 only information we can get from the westerners. But 
 this is not satisfactory, for the mixture of oxygen and 
 nitrogen alone has not the necessary qualities to animate 
 
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 matter. From the eastern philosophers we learn of the 
 existence of a universal energy, which in Sanskrit is 
 called Prana. This is the main basis of the unity of the 
 visible nature, for although not matter, meaning atomic 
 construction, it is found in all forms of matter, and this 
 is what we call the vital force. This vital force is found 
 in all forms of life, from the amoeba to man, from the 
 most elementary form of plant life to the highest form 
 of animal life. Although strictly speaking there is noth 
 ing in the whole universe where there is no life. We affirm 
 that there are no dead atoms. All is vibrating, acting, 
 and this is life. If the definition of organic and inor 
 ganic matter is to indicate the presence and absence of 
 life in certain matters, it is an erroneous one. Whether 
 you see the organ or not, the life is there, for each atom 
 of matter you see is eternally vibrating, which is the 
 only characteristic of life. There is nothing dead in 
 the universe. All is alive. This is the vital force. Do 
 you find it admissible, Doctor?" 
 
 "Yes, but there is again something new," replied Dr. 
 Ihringier. "We know that we are breathing air, com 
 posed of gases as you said, but, that vital force which you 
 claim we are getting through our breathing, is some 
 thing entirely unknown to our science." 
 
 "That is it exactly," remarked Count Morat. "Un 
 known to us, therefore does not exist! That is just what 
 I was telling you about, a little while ago. I know, it 
 is not known to westerners, but I also know that it is 
 well known to eastern scientists. The oxygen in the 
 air plays an important part in sustaining animal life, and 
 the carbon plays a similar part with plant life, but vital 
 force has its own distinct part to play in the manifesta 
 
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 tion of life, aside from the physiological functions. 
 Western scientists have been dimly aware of this great 
 principle with which the air is charged/ says an eastern 
 sage, but, discovering that they could find no chemical 
 trace of it, or make it register on any of their instru 
 ments, they have generally treated the oriental theory 
 with disdain. They could not explain this principle, and 
 so denied it. They seem, however, to recognize that the 
 air in certain places possesses a greater amount of "some 
 thing," and sick people are directed by their physicians 
 to seek such places in hopes of regaining lost health. 
 But, I am entering into details perhaps too much. This 
 is, however, to make my subject clear." 
 
 "You made it quite clear," remarked Dr. Ihringier. 
 "Will you proceed?" 
 
 "With pleasure," said Count Morat, pleasantly. "The 
 next higher principle is instinctive mind, which is the 
 lowest of the four mental principles of man. This is the 
 first step of mentation reached in the scale of evolution. 
 These four principles, namely ; physical body, finer body, 
 vital force, and instinctive mind, we share in connection 
 with the lower animals. If you will analyze them care 
 fully, you will find them exactly the same in animals as 
 they are in man. The activity of the instinctive mind can 
 be observed beginning in the mineral kingdom, particu 
 larly in crystals. Then we see it in a more advanced 
 form in the kingdom of plants. Then in the world of 
 the lower animals, and finally we see its working in man. 
 If I am not mistaken, the leader of the monistic school 
 of our days is the first of the western scientists who takes 
 notice of this principle, for he says: In my opinion 
 there are instincts in all organisms in all the protists 
 
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 and plants as well as in all the animals and in man; 
 though in the latter they tend to disappear in proportion 
 as reason makes progress at their expense. (*) This 
 is something new to western scholars, but not so to 
 orientals who have known this for thousands of years. 
 This principle, which is the highest in the animals and 
 the lowest in the intellectual man, makes that peculiar 
 connecting link between the two so noticeable to every 
 observer. Is it necessary that I should give you pictures 
 of those men who are nearer to animals than to intelli 
 gent men? You know as well as I do that there is a 
 great number of mankind belonging to this class. We 
 find them in Africa, Australasia, but sometimes we find 
 them even in Europe and America. They are led and 
 governed by their instinctive mind, in most cases not 
 being able to give any account of their acts any more 
 than the wild horses or domestic cats. I shall not keep 
 your attention longer on this subject. It will suffice to 
 remember the rule, that any act of any man produced 
 without aforethought, and all animal acts without ex 
 ception, are the workings of this instinctive mind. With 
 this we end the highest attribute of animals and begin 
 the lowest one in the intellectual man. The next prin 
 ciple in man is the intellect. This is the principle which, 
 when developed in man, makes him superior to the ani 
 mal. That there is in man such a thing as intellect no 
 one will deny. But we must remember that the passing 
 from the instinctive mind into the intellect does not hap 
 pen in any abrupt way. The transition comes gradually, 
 until the difference will become perceptible in the fact 
 that one governed by the instinctive mind has passions, 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. The Riddle. Page 123. 
 
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 but no reason; emotions, but no intellect; desires, but 
 no rationalized will. With the development of this prin 
 ciple intellect man unfolds his self-consciousness. This 
 self-consciousness is much easier to comprehend than to 
 define. Without it one may know, but only by the help 
 of that self-consciousness is one able to know that he 
 knows. Once a man reaches that stage, he knows that 
 he is not any more an animal. He sees and feels his su 
 periority. 
 
 "The next higher principle in man is the spiritual mind. 
 Wishing to be brief, I must give you in a few words what 
 this principle is. All that we consider good, great and 
 noble, comes from this principle. Conceptions such as 
 kindness, love for humanity, justice, mercy, sympathy, 
 etc., are the product of this spiritual mind. The more 
 this principle is developed in man, the greater are his acts. 
 Poets, great leaders, teachers, and men of science find 
 their inspiration in this principle, which makes them and 
 all of us nearer by one step to the understanding of the 
 highest principle in man, which is spirit, the immortal, 
 immaterial." 
 
 "Ah, spirit," exclaimed Dr. Ihringier, passionately, 
 "this is the most interesting part. I am all listening." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," resumed Count Morat. "It is the most 
 interesting, but alas, less comprehensive, except to those 
 who have grown to the corresponding height. You must 
 remember that our race is now living in the age of in 
 tellect. Very little, if any at all, we see of the spirit 
 uality. But I suppose you are not after that; what you 
 want is the definition. Well, in order to express myself 
 in an intelligible way the definition will be that the soul 
 or spirit is an immaterial, immortal and highly intelli- 
 
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 gent entity of man. This soul or spirit is the Ego, the 
 T of every man. Although subject to higher spiritual 
 laws, it remains entirely free from the subjection to the 
 laws governing the material, visible world. Owing to 
 the reasons I already mentioned, I started to give you a 
 picture of man s entity, beginning from the lowest prin 
 ciple he possesses. Now that we have reached the high 
 est, let me reverse the order and tell you this; it is the 
 soul or spirit that animates man through its vehicles. 
 This human soul expresses itself according to the devel 
 opments of his lower principles. It is the soul which 
 inspires man ; it is the soul which puts the intellect in ac 
 tivity. It is the soul which guides him in his lower prin 
 ciples. If there were no soul, there would be no human 
 body." 
 
 "This is all well," said Dr. Ihringier, critically. "But 
 what I want to know is, how did you succeed in finding 
 out that there is such a soul or spirit in man ?" 
 
 "You are still led by your monistic views," began 
 Count Morat. "I don t blame you. Were you able to 
 understand me, you would not ask such a question. How 
 ever, in order to help you, I must follow your mode of 
 thinking. You must keep in your mind the fact, so 
 clearly demonstrated, that appearances are deceitful ; that 
 behind matter, there is immaterial and invisible force 
 which is holding and governing all. In analyzing man. 
 we have found the same order of things. But, notwith 
 standing this, of course you want a more tangible argu 
 ment to show that the soul or spirit is the only power 
 which is in man. Very well. When you are asked, what 
 is it in man that produces his superior qualities, your 
 answer is, that it is the brain that gray matter, which 
 
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 does the whole thing in man. It is the brain that tells 
 you that you are hungry, tired, restless. It is the brain 
 that tells you, you must love your children, neighbors, par 
 ents and friends. It is your brain that tells you of the 
 grandeur of the universe, reveals to you the mathematical 
 truths, inspires you with poetry, forces you to a great 
 sacrifice of your interests in order to help your fellow- 
 man. In short all your acts are prompted by your brain. 
 Not only this, but this same brain reminds you of your 
 promises, contracts, agreements, obligations, loves and 
 hatreds, which occurred five, twenty and fifty years ago. 
 It reminds you of the smallest details of some of your 
 acts which took place in your childhood, while a young 
 man, and finally, while in mature age. Now before I go 
 any farther I wish to hear you. Am I correctly quoting 
 your opinion, doctor?" 
 
 "That is the opinion of science," replied Dr. Ihringier, 
 "consequently mine also. It is a self-evident fact that all 
 our actions, feelings, conceptions, whether high or low, 
 come from our brain. The human brain is the central 
 dynamo which produces all." 
 
 "Very well, then," resumed Count Morat. "If that 
 is the case, will you tell me, how can your brain remind 
 you of your responsibilities and other acts of many years 
 ago, when your brain does not exist for any longer period 
 than six months at most? It is a fact scientifically 
 acknowledged that the atoms of your body constantly 
 change, including the gray mass which constitutes your 
 honorable brain. The brain you have today in your 
 cranium did not exist six months ago. How can that 
 brain know and tell you what you were doing twenty- 
 five years ago?" 
 
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 "Now he s got you!" exclaimed Mr. Milton, joyously. 
 "Now he s got you! You are caught in your own trap, 
 my dear doctor ! The blow is too serious to be ignored. 
 I am afraid this is the final stroke to your whole struc 
 ture of the most exalted modern science." 
 
 Dr. Ihringier seemed to be somewhat embarrased and 
 for the moment had no answer to offer. But finally he 
 thought he had found one. 
 
 "Why that is memory," said he boldly. 
 
 "Yes, that is the name for it. But, where is that 
 memory located?" inquired Count Morat, courteously. 
 "You say that the brain is the central dynamo which 
 produces all ; therefore, the only place where you can 
 locate the memory the same as all other similar mani 
 festations of man, But, since your brain has no con 
 tinuous existence, how can it preserve a memory of 
 events long past?" 
 
 "But the brain does not change at once. The inter 
 change of atoms occurs gradually," said Dr. Ihringier, 
 nonchalantly. 
 
 "I suppose it is like the United States Senate," joined 
 Mr. Milton. "There are always some of the old left, 
 to keep up the traditions of the house." 
 
 "That is no explanation, my dear Doctor," said Count 
 Morat, calmly. "The great monist of today in his very 
 learned dissertation, beginning with the Cellular presen 
 tation (*) and ending with the Cellular and Histionic 
 memories, tries very learnedly to show the origin and 
 gradual development of the memory in man. But, un 
 fortunately, weak as the argument runs facing the strong 
 theory of changeability of molecules and atoms, it en- 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. The Riddle. Page 117-121. 
 
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 tirely loses its force. That the brain is the only seat 
 where all our momentary sensations are centered, we do 
 not deny. There was a time when people, including 
 scientists, believed that sensations were perceived at the 
 very point where they were felt. A pain in a tooth was 
 located in the tooth. Even today a majority of the peo 
 ple believe so. Physiology, however, has demonstrated, 
 that a pain felt at your finger-tip, is sensed by you only 
 when it is communicated by your nervous system to your 
 brain. If you remove that nerve, there will be no feel 
 ing of the pain in your finger. You can cut it into pieces 
 or burn it, without suffering any inconvenience. That 
 is what we know and believe today. Since that discovery 
 we refer all our sensations to our brain. But, unfor 
 tunately this method takes us only half way. When we 
 consider that the brain itself is like a finger, composed 
 of matter which is not constant, which is changing con 
 tinually and rapidly, we are forced to conclude that there 
 is in man something more essential than the brain, A 
 single lobe, says a prominent French scientist, a single 
 cell, a single molecule, which does not change, does not, 
 and could not exist in the whole mass of encephalic mat 
 ter. A stoppage of motion, of circulation, or of trans 
 formation, would be a death-warrant. The brain sub 
 sists and feels only on condition of submitting like all 
 the rest of the body, to the incessant transformations of 
 organic matter which constitute the vital circuit. From 
 this we see that our personality, our identity, which is 
 continuous, cannot be the product of our cerebral struc 
 ture and its workings. Our individual Ego, which ac 
 quires and preserves a personal scientific and moral value, 
 
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 or unscientific and immoral, as the case may be the Ego 
 which feels the responsibility of acts accomplished some 
 months, or years ago, cannot be a product of a struc 
 ture which constantly changes and as such has no iden 
 tity. This is clear and in harmony with the principles 
 of logic. You can not deny it. Now don t you see that 
 the brain is not what science claims it to be? No, my 
 dear Doctor, this is not the way to solve the mysteries 
 of life. We have to go back to the song of the swan 
 of Mantua; "mens agitat molem." Yes, indeed, it is 
 my soul, my Ego, which gives life and identity to my 
 body, and not my brain. The brain, as you said correctly, 
 is the central dynamo of man s activities; but, the same 
 as your hands, feet, eyes, and the rest of your body owe 
 obedience to the supreme command of your Ego, so does 
 your brain. But again, this brain becomes a fascinating 
 power, when it is termed by the monistic school as the 
 thinking substance. Undoubtedly it is the only organ 
 which produces thoughts, which in their turn are things 
 which have forms and colors indicating their grading 
 in merit or demerit; but the brain in this case performs 
 the same offices as it does in communicating to you your 
 external sensations; for though the brain produces the 
 thoughts, it does not generate them. These substances 
 of thoughts are mostly expressions of acquired ex 
 periences in the long, long past, and as such are unknown 
 to your brain, which is simply a temporary organ of a 
 very short duration. The Ego, which is the only pos 
 sessor of these experiences, produces them according to 
 necessity through the medium of your brain which, in 
 this case, the same as in all the rest, is nothing but a 
 simple machine, similar to that one which equally well 
 
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 produces the electricity without creating it. Thus we 
 see quite clearly that your terminology of soul-cells, cell- 
 souls, germ-soul, nerve-soul, tissue-soul, thinking sub 
 stance and the rest, are terms which indicate only your 
 great, almost superhuman efforts, to find the main 
 dynamo in man. But, as you see, these efforts fail, for 
 they are unfit for the purpose intended. The invisible 
 cannot be measured by the visible, the immaterial by ma 
 terial, the eternal by temporal. By using these terms, I 
 do not intend to say that we are dealing with anything 
 supernatural, for there is no such a thing as supernatural. 
 All things, whether known and visible to us, or other 
 wise, once they exist, are natural. That is to say, they 
 represent some portion of this great immeasurable uni 
 verse of which we, with our charming little planet, are 
 nothing but an insignificant bluish spot, lost into the 
 myriads of great suns and their systems. Now let me 
 come back to our immediate subject and conclude that 
 man has an immortal, immaterial soul which cannot be 
 reached by the methods employed in the western scien 
 tific world. As I said, we know of its existence by em 
 pirical knowledge but not of that kind which ends its 
 researches where the gross form of matter disappears. 
 The empirical knowledge which guides us is of a supe 
 rior quality, inasmuch as it deals with much finer forces 
 of nature than those accessible to an average student of 
 natural sciences." 
 
 Dr. Ihringier listened to the above very attentively. 
 The deductions made by Count Morat embodied such 
 powerful logic that he was forced to silence. The great 
 variety of thoughts brought up in such a fascinating man 
 ner, full of rational reasonings, most of them entirely new 
 
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 to him, somewhat depressed his inquisitive mind. He 
 concluded to give better and deeper thoug-ht to this 
 strange philosophy before he would attack it again. In 
 the meantime some pressing questions were forcing him 
 to a new inquiry. Unable to silence them, he turned to 
 the Count, saying: 
 
 "Suppose we admit the existence of a soul in man such 
 as you have described. What I am curious to know now 
 is, by the virtue of what principle do you come to the 
 conclusion that this human soul is immortal?" 
 
 "By the virtue of that same principle which makes you 
 accept the indestructibility of matter and conservation of 
 energy," replied the Count. 
 
 "That is not what the Doctor is after," remarked Mr. 
 Milton, who up to this time kept silence in order to 
 give ample opportunity for the full play of the philosophi 
 cal conclusions of the Count. "What frightens him and 
 his friends the monists is that big word immortality," 
 resumed Mr. Milton. "Permit me to tell you a little 
 story, Doctor. The Russian yEsop, Kryloff, in one of 
 his fables tells us the story of a man who went to see the 
 zoological museum. After having spent a couple of 
 hours in the building, he met one of his friends on the 
 street who begged him to tell what he saw in the museum. 
 The man began to enumerate the wonderful things he 
 saw there; the pretty beetles, cockroaches, grasshoppers, 
 bugs, lice, aphids and a great many other specimens be 
 longing to that class. The inquirer listened patiently to 
 the minute description of those insects, and finally he 
 asked : Did you see the elephant there? By gosh/ ex 
 claimed the admirer of natural history, no, I did not see 
 the elephant. This is exactly what happens with the 
 
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 scientists of our days. They spend their lives in this 
 charming museum of our planet, counting the four thous 
 and varieties of ants. Just think of the patience of the 
 man who accomplishes the task ! They search and know 
 all about the reptiles, insects and all sorts of animals. 
 They invent all kinds of magnifying glasses, in order to 
 examine and see the smallest, the tiniest conceivable things 
 in nature. But, lo, they are blind to the greatest truth 
 nature ever demonstrated. They do not see I am in 
 clined to think that they are too small for the enter 
 prise the big elephants, in the shape of the human soul 
 and its immortality. They seem to be too timid to touch 
 this elephant, although they have had some training in 
 the subject; for it was under the wise guidance of the 
 French philosopher, Lavoisier, that they started to learn 
 the new alphabet, leading to the lesson that all matter is 
 immortal in the sense that it can not be destroyed, annihi 
 lated. Fortunately they learned this precious lesson, and 
 today they all cry loudly in a chorus, matter is inde 
 structible. It took them one hundred and seventeen 
 years to learn this one lesson. Another philosopher by 
 the name of Robert Meyer, a Swabian physician, taught 
 them that even force or energy, a thing invisible to our 
 eyes, has its own immortality. This lesson they have 
 been learning for the last sixty-four years. After these 
 glorious lessons, which taught them that there is no such 
 a thing as death, meaning destruction, annihilation or 
 cessation of activity; contrary, that there is nothing but 
 life, continuous, endless, with a transition from one into 
 another form, that is picturesque and healthy ; I say, after 
 these beautiful lessons, see how amusing it sounds when 
 you hear from the mouth of one of the above illustrious 
 
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 students, this: When the brain dies, the soul comes to 
 an end. (*) Great Scott! comes to an end, means that 
 the soul ceases to exist. How can we harmonize this 
 with the above mentioned empirical truths? If the mat 
 ter and energy which taken together represent all we 
 know and see on our planet, in fact the whole universe, 
 have their immortality or indestructibility, if you choose, 
 what makes these scientists assert that the human soul 
 is the only exception to this great law governing all? 
 If an iron atom, which is a very, very small particle of 
 matter, never loses its identity, indestructible as it is, re 
 mains the same whether in the human body or at the end 
 of a rusty shovel, what makes it, by what combination 
 and by what natural law does it happen, that the human 
 soul is deprived of this same privilege? How is it that 
 those men so strong in their logic when they want to 
 prove their theory, commit such a childish inconsistency? 
 Upon mature reflection we are forced to see the cause 
 of it in their desire to combat the dualism such as pro 
 fessed by the existing creeds. But, how ridiculous is the 
 stratagem can be seen in the fact that in order to decapi 
 tate the clumsy dualism, they are bombarding the im 
 mortality of the human soul at the expense and ridicule 
 of their own logic. The trouble lies in the fact that they 
 associate the immortality of the soul with the worn out 
 dualistic system. The theory that man is a special cre 
 ation, that is to say, that each man has been specially 
 created for the purpose, that during his terrestrial life 
 he should read the Bible, and, after his death should go 
 to heaven and play the harp, or become a plaything in 
 the hands of devils whose business it is to roast any and 
 
 (*) E. Haeckel. Last words on evolution. Page 144. 
 
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 all who do not read the Bible, is a thing which does not 
 appeal to the refined senses of scientists. I do not blame 
 them for such a rebellion; but, in order to reject these 
 conceptions, does it follow that they should refuse to ex 
 tend the application of the all powerful law of indestruct 
 ibility to the human soul? I repeat, if all things con 
 tinue their existence, preserving their identity now for 
 millions of years, I ask, what makes you think that the 
 human soul does not do likewise? Here probably once 
 more you would say, first show us the soul such as you 
 claim it to be, then we will discuss its immortality. O, ye 
 men of logic! If scientific arguments amount to any 
 thing Count Morat has tangibly demonstrated that physio 
 logical functions which are produced by constantly chang 
 ing matter cannot and do not represent the human soul, 
 which is the only maker of the identity of individuals 
 That consciousness of your existence which is so clear to 
 you, in a physical body representing a continuous change 
 of your whole physical structure, does not it clearly indi 
 cate the presence of a soul which is not the physiological 
 function of man as monists are pleased to have it ? But, 
 of course you want to have this soul in a fashion so as 
 to get hold of it with your pinchers and say, here is the 
 casus belli. Is it not curious that you are not doing the 
 same thing with electricity? How would it sound to you 
 if I were to say, we do not know the nature of electricity, 
 we never saw it, therefore it does not exist. Our capacity 
 in understanding material things is limited; how much 
 more must it be for things immaterial ? We do not know 
 the nature of many things whose workings are so bene 
 ficial to us; but we do not deny their existence, simply 
 because we see them in their application to matter. Hu- 
 
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 man souls are growing entities. They have been growing 
 for hundreds of thousands of years, and they will con 
 tinue to grow for many millions to come, until they will 
 out-grow the attractions of this planet. The process 
 through which the human soul has been evolving is the 
 same today as it was in the past. The soul being im 
 material 
 
 "Just one second," interrupted Dr. Ihringier. "What 
 do you mean by immaterial? Will you tell me?" 
 
 "That is what I was going to say," resumed Mr. 
 Milton. "Immaterial means just what the word con 
 veys, that is to say, that the human soul is not composed 
 of matter such as we know matter to be, for if it were we 
 would be able to ascertain its presence by the means 
 known to science. All we are able to judge is, that its 
 substance is much superior to all substances known to us. 
 This we know 7 by the simple fact that we cannot find 
 anywhere, anything similar to it. It is found only in 
 man. Not being of atomic construction, it cannot de 
 compose, and as an indivisible entity remains the same 
 whether within the physical body or without it. This 
 order of things is governed by a similar law which makes 
 an iron atom the same wherever it happens to be. Iden 
 tity and indestructibility, which indicates continuity, are 
 the indispensable attributes of the soul, just the same as 
 those of an iron atom. This comparison is very crude 
 and clumsy , but owing to our limitations, we use it as the 
 nearest measure for our comprehension. The only 
 changes to which human souls are subjected are those 
 which follow the continually evolving experiences ac 
 quired by them. This inevitable process becomes a valu 
 able factor in the advancement of the human soul in its 
 
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 further profession in understanding more fully the laws 
 governing- the universe. Owing to the acquisition of these 
 qualities, the human soul progresses now more rapidly 
 than it did in the long past. This we know empirically. 
 Humanity of today is much better in every respect than 
 ever before during the whole period of the duration of 
 our race; and why? Simply because it has been always 
 progressing. By this progression I mean the intellectual 
 evolution in man, which forces us, by the process of per 
 sonal experiences, to take notice of the laws governing 
 the universe, and profit by it in utilizing them to our ad 
 vantage. This progression is the only aim of humanity, 
 always has been, always will be. Whether knowingly or 
 unknowingly each individual cultivates it to the utmost 
 of his capacity. Owing to this existing order of things, 
 our race is so much advanced that we have entirely lost 
 the traces of the primitive man. The lowest and rough 
 est specimen we have today is the bushman of South Af 
 rica, who undoubtedly represents a greatly improved spec 
 imen above the anthropoid ape, which became extinct long 
 long ago. When we compare ourselves with the still ex 
 isting bushman, we discover we are greatly advanced in 
 all respects. Does not this indicate that humanity has 
 been continually progressing? We are in perfect accord 
 with science, as you observe, as long as it represents em 
 pirical truths. But when some scientists, in order to an 
 noy some representatives of the western dualistic school, 
 try to show that their precious old boots are more entitled 
 to immortality than their own souls, we cannot help con 
 cluding that they are falsifying the principles of science." 
 At this moment a pretty swan, proudly promenading 
 on the shores of the lake, approached the three men sit- 
 
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 MORE SCIENTIFIC PROBLEMS. 
 
 ting- on the bench, buried in their thoughts, and de 
 manded their attention. This aquatic bird, following his 
 daily habits, wanted to be fed. But finding no encourage 
 ment, reluctantly concluded that these were the species 
 of humanity which surely belonged to the class of "rara 
 avis," and as though frightened by the discovery, turn 
 ing its back, sharply rushed to the lake. Once on the 
 water, it started to race the less belligerent birds, scar 
 ing the rest of the peaceful volatiles in the neighborhood. 
 
 This incident awakened our friends. Dr. Ihringier 
 seemed to be very much engaged with his thoughts, but 
 consulting his watch, he remarked that it was time for 
 him to attend one of his cases. 
 
 "I hope," said Mr. Milton, "you will have no more 
 scientific insomnia, Doctor." 
 
 The physician looked back at Mr. Milton reproach 
 fully, and, waving his hand, disappeared among the 
 shady palm trees. 
 
 "O what a charming day !" said Count Morat, follow 
 ing Mr. Milton to his house to spend the rest of the 
 afternoon with him. 
 
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 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION 
 
 Mr. Milton was a frequent visitor on Adams street. 
 This was due to the intimate relations which existed be 
 tween the two families. The friendship, originated dur 
 ing the life of Mr. and Mrs. Gladston, was firmly ce 
 mented by their death. This was only natural. Mr. 
 Gladston was an old customer and friend of Mr. Milton s 
 father. Owing to his constant travels abroad it was 
 necessary for him to have a banker in New York City, 
 and this banker was Mr. Oscar Milton, through whose 
 banking establishment he transacted all his financial af 
 fairs. After many years of business relations, the two 
 men became good friends, and whenever Mr. Gladston 
 happened to be in New York City, he never failed to 
 pay a friendly visit to the Milton family. This is how 
 James Milton became acquainted with him. These visits 
 however occurred at rare intervals, and only then, when 
 Mr. Gladston was passing through the city either going 
 to or returning from Europe. Knowing that Mr. Glad 
 ston was a noted archaeologist, the young and promising 
 
 168
 
 A kOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 student of law, James Milton, being in love with all that 
 had a stamp of antiquity, had a great desire to cultivate 
 a closer acquaintance with the man who knew so much 
 about the subject which interested him intensely ; but, un 
 fortunately, owing to Mr. Gladston s continuous absence 
 from this country, he never had an opportunity to real 
 ize his wishes. Thus years rolled on and events followed 
 events. Owing to the changes which occurred during the 
 few years before he came to California, Mr. Milton had 
 heard nothing of Mr. Gladston. All he knew was, that 
 after his last trip to Egypt, whither he went with the 
 same mission which took him to the banks of the river 
 Tigris, Mr. Gladston ceased entirely his correspondence 
 with the establishment of his father. Furthermore, he 
 knew that the Gladston family lived in Richmond, Vir 
 ginia, but he had never met any of its members. These 
 relations of old standing seemed to be altogether forgot 
 ten, when an unexpected incident brought these two men 
 into a closer connection. While settled in Los Angeles, 
 Mr. Milton became acquainted with a few literary men, 
 who in the interest of science were trying to establish 
 in their home city an Archaeological Society, as a 
 branch of the already existing Archaeological Institute of 
 America, the purpose of which is to gather and preserve 
 all sorts of relics of the past in order to promote the 
 highly instructive methods of that branch of science. It 
 was quite an undertaking, and judging from the indif 
 ference displayed by the general public at the beginning, 
 it was not encouraging. But, knowing that all begin 
 nings usually present some technical difficulties, the men 
 at the head of the movement were not to be deterred by 
 this, and they went on with an unusual energy to ac- 
 
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 complish their purpose. In order to interest the people, 
 and in the meantime to gather necessary funds, they con 
 ceived the idea of giving popular lectures on Archaeology, 
 and for this purpose they engaged professional men. In 
 thus beginning, they succeeded exceedingly well, for at 
 the time of writing this, the city of Los Angeles is quite 
 proud of its Southwest Society, which is formally incor 
 porated as a branch of the Archaeological Institute of 
 America. This flourishing institution, with its miniature 
 museum and bright prospects in the near future for the 
 establishment and maintenance of a grand museum, is to 
 be prominently located on a well chosen hill within the 
 boundary of the city. To one of these lectures Mr. Mil 
 ton was invited. A good sized hall was filled with the 
 best element representing the inhabitants of the city. 
 When the presiding officer opened the meeting, he 
 announced that he was greatly gratified to state, that 
 a most prominent archaeologist of America was pres 
 ent, who would address the audience, and ended by 
 introducing Mr. Edward B. Gladston, formerly of 
 Richmond, Virginia, and now a resident of this city. 
 When this name was announced, and when Mr. Gladston 
 appeared on the stage in person, one can easily guess 
 that Mr. Milton did not fail at once to recognize the old 
 friend of his father. Useless to say that he listened to 
 the lecturer with great interest, and when all was over, 
 Mr. Milton was the first to shake hands with him. Mr. 
 Gladston was so pleased in thus unexpectedly meeting Mr. 
 Milton, that he immediately left the hall, and taking Mr. 
 Milton with him to his club house, they spent a couple 
 of hours in recalling the times of the past and pleasant 
 remembrances connected with it. On this occasion they 
 
 170
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 both learned what they did not know of each other s 
 family. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Milton paid his first visit to 
 Mr. Gladston, on Adams street, and became acquainted 
 with all the members of his family. At about this time 
 the condition of Mr. Gladston s health had reached the 
 stage which was not a precursor of good tidings. As we 
 already know, he had come to California for his health. 
 The events which followed proved that the above de 
 scribed lecture was the occasion of his last appearance in 
 public, for after that night he was forced to stay in his 
 room, eventually not to appear in public again. This de 
 plorable breaking down of his health was due principally 
 to the sad experiences to which he was subjected. In 
 these days of gold hunting, when by some miraculous way 
 millionaires are sprung like mushrooms after the rainy 
 season, even men of science are tempted to follow the 
 uncertain and oftentimes dangerous footsteps of fortune 
 seekers. This was exactly the case with Mr. Gladston. 
 He became interested in a claim of a gold mine. Believ 
 ing he had a solid undertaking on hand, he did not hesi 
 tate to invest heavily in the proposition. But unfortu 
 nately it became known to some of the share holders that 
 the title of the property held by them was defective, and 
 taking advantage of the fact that Mr. Gladston knew 
 nothing about it, under some convenient pretences they 
 sold to him their shares in order to save their own inter 
 ests. Mr. Gladston, still remaining under the impression 
 that he was acquiring a fortune, bought these shares, in 
 vesting the last penny he had. Thus he became the 
 owner of a fourth interest in the undertaking, but alas, 
 he learned at last that he had been chasing a wild goose, 
 
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 for he had bought a claim, the title of which was in liti 
 gation with a neighboring syndicate of mine magnates. 
 At first sight this meant a total financial wreck for Mr. 
 Gladston. To fight rich men nowadays means the de 
 struction of the one who has the least money at his dis 
 posal. This unexpected and awful discovery was like a 
 thunder-clap, which crushed all the vitality that re 
 mained in the otherwise exhausted organism of Mr. Glad 
 ston, but fortunately for him just about this time he met 
 Mr. Milton, who according to his opinion was nothing 
 less than a God-sent friend in times of distress. Natural 
 ly, as one might expect, he did not delay presenting his 
 case in all its nakedness to Mr. Milton, asking his valu 
 able co-operation in the matter. 
 
 Upon hearing this distressing story Mr. Milton was 
 greatly moved by the helplessness of his father s friend, 
 and losing no time he immediately started for Arizona, 
 w r here the mine was located, in Yuma county. After 
 several weeks of exhaustive labors, having successfully 
 accomplished his purpose, Mr. Milton returned to Los 
 Angeles. Great was the joy on Adams street, when Mr. 
 Milton told his story, consisting of the fact that owing 
 to the omission of properly recording certain documents 
 in reference to the conveyance of the original property, 
 the wide-a-wake gold hunters of the neighborhood had 
 taken advantage of this fact, hence the promotion of liti 
 gation; but having rectified this omission, and further 
 more having ascertained the proper value of the property, 
 Mr. Milton was able to set Mr. Gladston s claims in a 
 shape which insured his ownership of the mine, and 
 which eventually developed into one of the most profit 
 able undertakings. This was an unexpected victory for 
 
 172
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 Mr. Gladston. "You saved me and my family," ex 
 claimed Mr. Gladston, cordially shaking Mr. Milton s 
 friendly hands. But this joy in the Gladston family was 
 not of long duration. The exhausted and shattered or 
 ganism of Mr. Gladston had no more vitality left. Be 
 ing aware of this fact, he dictated to Mr. Milton his last 
 will, leaving its execution entirely to him. The last day 
 of his life he spent alone with his wife writing a certain 
 document, the contents of which were known to no one 
 except Mrs. Gladston. Thus having accomplished what 
 he thought his sacred duties, he died in peace and cer 
 titude that his family would not be subjected to any ma 
 terial inconveniences. A few years after this event, as we 
 already know, followed the lamented death of Mrs. Glad 
 ston, leaving Miss Virginia at the head of the family. 
 From the above narrative we see how unexpected events 
 had placed Mr. Milton in a position which by the lapse 
 of time became more and more important. The heroic 
 act in saving the vital interests of the Gladston family, 
 threw on him a halo not to be forgotten soon. These re 
 lations prompted him to visit the Gladston family as often 
 as he thought would be admissible under such circum 
 stances. As we already know, while Mrs. Pratt as an 
 elderly person was considered by the outsiders the head 
 of the family, in fact it was Miss Virginia who had en 
 tire charge of family affairs. This made it that Mr. 
 Milton found himself very frequently in her company. 
 At first he considered it his duty to enlighten and direct 
 according to his judgment, this young girl, who knew 
 nothing of the world s affairs and its vicissitudes. But 
 gradually he became aware of the fact that there was no 
 need of such a supervision. For he discovered that Miss 
 
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 Virginia, although young and inexperienced, had much 
 of that common sense which is so helpful in all things 
 pertaining to life. Not only this, but he also learned that 
 there were things in which the good judgment of Miss 
 Virginia was much superior to his own. This was 
 demonstrated in matters pertaining to the education of 
 her brothers and little sister. She knew exactly what 
 direction should be given to the education of boys, as 
 well as the training she thought would be the most de 
 sirable for the little sister. These matters, although 
 strictly belonging to the family, were discussed before 
 Mr. Milton in order to obtain his views as of a man who 
 knew life and its requirements. These and similar other 
 facts showing the admirable sagacity of Miss Virginia. 
 convinced Mr. Milton of her ability in conducting the af 
 fairs of her family so well that he was forced to acknowl- 
 adge her superior qualities. This discovery caused Mr. 
 Milton to be guided by her opinions in many instances. 
 However these relations took more and more a character 
 which could not be termed a business connection. Miss 
 Virginia first started by seeing in Mr. Milton a good 
 friend of her family. She remembered well the high re 
 gard her parents had for him. He was pointed out to 
 her as a young man of unusual ability and honesty. This 
 was sufficient to make her place her whole confidence in 
 him. When the days of her trial came it was Mr. Mil 
 ton who stood by her side ready to do anything in his 
 power to alleviate the burden thrown on her weak shoul 
 ders. Above all she remembered well the time while the 
 remains of her mother were still in the house, during the 
 long nights most of which she spent sitting in the parlor, 
 while all the rest of her friends, tired and exhausted by 
 
 174
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 the sleepless nights, had retired, it was Mr. Milton alone 
 who remained to watch her. During one of these nights, 
 when she thought she was alone in the parlor, she ap 
 proached the cold body of her mother, to kiss her lips in 
 a fashion that was customary to her, but when she 
 touched the deathly cold face, as though for the first 
 time realizing that her mother was dead, her knees 
 trembled, and she fell unconscious on the floor. When 
 she opened her eyes, she met those of Mr. Milton, who 
 was watching her and had caught her at the moment 
 when she fainted, and having carried her to the adjoining 
 room had placed her on a sofa. "O how good he was to 
 her," she thought. Nothing can strengthen a friendship 
 between two persons better than a sympathy shown in 
 moments of sorrow and suffering. After this occurrence 
 Miss Virginia looked upon Mr. Milton altogether dif 
 ferently. He was no more simply an advisor of her par 
 ents and a friend of her family. No, he was more than 
 that ; he was her friend, the nearest friend she ever had in 
 her life. When all was over and things became normal, 
 every appearance of Mr. Milton at her home was re 
 garded by her as a matter of course, justly and rightly 
 belonging to her family life. Was it not he who in the 
 moments of greatest despair saved her father from a 
 total financial wreck? Was it not he, who after her 
 father s death, through his watchfulness, helped her 
 mother in her efforts to straighten out the still existing 
 confusion in her financial affairs, and brought them to 
 the stage, which insured a steady and uniform yielding? 
 And then, when there was no father and no mother, how 
 many and many times he had come with his friendly ad 
 vice to help her in moments when she needed it the most ? 
 
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 Besides, after the death of her mother, when her soul was 
 awakened, when, although a girl of eighteen, she wanted 
 to probe the fathomless mysteries of life, she wanted to 
 know why, why her mother was taken away from her, 
 yes, she wanted to know, why such a cruel act, which de 
 stroyed the happiness of her home life, should take place. 
 When she was engaged with the solution of these prob 
 lems it was Mr. Milton who came with his consoling ad 
 vice. He taught her a resignation which was not only 
 deprived of humiliating features, but had a strength of 
 its own. He taught her how to look soberly upon the 
 things which seemed to her so cruel, so terrible. In 
 those hours of desolation, she learned so much from him. 
 It was then that for the first time her soul was awakened 
 to the fact that the visible world was not the last expres 
 sion of the Universe. Devoting her time to studies she 
 learned that she could not be always guided by her senses, 
 which were as defective as those of a child. Entering 
 upon this new stage of intellectual life, she could not help 
 seeing in Mr. Milton a very valuable companion, who 
 never failed to respond with genuine willingness in guid 
 ing her into the realm of the newly opened field. While 
 these relations were firmly established, the law of attrac 
 tion having laid its foundations, began its legitimate 
 work. In the former adviser and family friend, Miss 
 Virginia began to see qualities which placed him far 
 above all the other young men of her acquaintance. This 
 discovery made her more exacting in her analysis of 
 things pertaining to the conduct of Mr. Milton ; and the 
 place he had taken in her thoughts became exceptional. 
 As the time went on, his little attentions were marked 
 with that exquisite delicacy, which is noticeable only to 
 
 176
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 the refined senses of a well cultured young girl, as she 
 was, and soon she learned to see in him all she could 
 expect in a man of her choice. Thus gradually she be 
 came aware of the fact that Mr. Milton s gallant services 
 and his friendship were due to a deeper interest than that 
 which is prompted in a man who is nothing more than a 
 simple adviser in professional matters. It is true Mr. 
 Milton never spoke to her in terms which would indicate 
 that he wished to be to her anything more than a good 
 friend ; nevertheless she could guess through her womanly 
 senses that there was something more than appearances 
 could suggest. But, notwithstanding all these little things 
 tending to show the existing tie, Miss Virginia never was 
 anxious to know anything more explicitly. She was cer 
 tain and positive that Mr. Milton nourished for her a feel 
 ing which nothing in the world could destroy, and that 
 was enough for her to know. As in regfard to herself, 
 she knew also that without Mr. Milton she would feel her 
 orphanage more than she could bear. What was that 
 feeling she had for Mr. Milton? She did not know the 
 exact name of it. She knew this much, that Mr. Milton 
 represented all the best and noblest qualities she could 
 expect to find in a man; and what pleased her the most 
 was that Mr. Milton never spoke of his love to her. His 
 love was shown unmistakably in all things he did for her. 
 In every act of his there was indication of a love, which 
 was not a mere passion, which in its calmness and 
 thoughtfulness marked its merit more forcibly than words 
 could express, and this made her happy. She dreaded the 
 moment when she would be asked to discuss the matter 
 in more definite terms. She knew that it was inevitable 
 that some day this was bound to take a decisive turn ; but, 
 
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 as long as this would not take place immediately, she was 
 satisfied. The cause of the attitude she had taken was 
 the fact, that she was not ready for any change in her 
 life, for very important reasons. The first was the fact 
 that she had assumed the duties of a mother and she in 
 tended to perform them faithfully to the last moment, 
 namely, to the time when her two brothers and the little 
 sister had reached the age which would enable them to 
 take care of themselves. The second and the most im 
 portant fact was that mysterious letter which told the un 
 certainty of her birth. How could she consent to become 
 a life companion to any man, and especially to a man 
 whom she sincerely admired, when she did not know 
 whose child she was? Had Mr. Milton discovered this, 
 would he not frown on the thought of attempting to 
 marry a girl of an unknown origin, a foundling? Nay, 
 would not he refuse even the everyday social intercourse 
 with her ? Oh what a terrible thought ! According to 
 her estimation, if there were no other impediment, cer 
 tainly this one was a strong barrier which forcibly sep 
 arated her from all the world, and especially from the 
 one who had become a constant subject of her cherished 
 thoughts. This apprehension crushed her naturally ex 
 alted and proud soul, and this is why she carefully evaded 
 all possible occasions that would facilitate the develop 
 ment of that divine spark, which though gradually, be 
 came the sole warming element of her virgin heart and 
 her whole being. While Miss Virginia was thus care 
 fully trying to control the situation, Mr. Milton was steer 
 ing his ship to the land of hopes. It did not take him 
 long to know the main magnet which attracted him to 
 the Gladston family. The golden-haired and blue-eyed 
 
 178
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 girl had made an indelible impress upon him, from the 
 moment he saw her, while she was attending her school. 
 He had a rare opportunity to study the exceptional quali 
 ties of the girl, whom he had named for her dignified 
 manner a princess. From the first, when he became ac 
 quainted with the Gladston family, he noticed the great 
 difference that existed between Miss Virginia and the rest 
 of the family. There was not the slightest resemblance 
 between them. In appearance Miss Virginia was a de 
 cided blonde, with light blue eyes, while the rest of the 
 family, including Mr. and Mrs. Gladston. were brunettes 
 with gray eyes. Often his thoughts ran on the subject 
 as to why one child should be so different from the rest 
 of the family; but owing to his keen observations, he 
 knew of many similar cases, and consequently did not at 
 tach any importance to this fact. However, when he be 
 gan to observe the differences in characters, he found no 
 satisfactory explanation. What principally charmed him 
 was, that particular trait of hers, which made her forget 
 herself, her inclinations, likings and dislikings, in order 
 to perform faithfully and properly the assumed role. This 
 was so unusual and so striking, especially in the tender 
 age of a girl of her growth, that he could not help ad 
 miring it. When he first learned about her promise 
 made to her dying mother, he thought that this was an 
 eruption of the feelings of a young girl, who gradually 
 would forget her moments of sorrow and distress, and 
 eventually end by following the path trodden by millions 
 of girls of her age. But as the years rolled on and she 
 grew in age and experience, her assumed duties became 
 to her more sacred than ever before. Observing this, Mr. 
 Milton could not help concluding that this was an excep- 
 
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 tional case, and he felt proud of his ward ; for did not the 
 dying father, and afterwards the dying mother, commend 
 her to his care? But, this charming ward, this enchant 
 ing princess, deserved all that he could give her. Yes, 
 she was one of those heavenly fairies, whom all the world 
 would love and adore; and he loved her with the might 
 of his soul and heart. Taking advantage of the position 
 trusted to him by the narrated events, he spent the most 
 delightful hours of his life in her company. He always 
 succeeded in finding something instructive and interest 
 ing to discuss with her, and he always found her a willing 
 and charmingly docile listener. Very often while her 
 interest was aroused in the discussion, she would raise 
 her beautiful head to ask a question. On those occasions 
 her face would assume an expression of genuine inno 
 cence, mingled with that peculiar air of curiosity which 
 is so noticeable in the youth of her age, and which was 
 perfectly natural to her. Looking at that fascinating 
 face, those blue eyes of hers would seem to him a reflec 
 tion of an unfathomed sea, replete with riches of a power 
 fully intelligent and noble soul, and this enrapturing pic 
 ture would invariably force Mr. Milton to such an ad 
 miration that he would forget the subject on hand and 
 the question would remain unanswered. If anything im 
 portant, the question would be repeated, and the desired 
 answer would follow. Mr. Milton did not belong to that 
 class of men, who, with their sheepish admiration become 
 a willing victim of feminine charms. Yet, he was forced 
 to acknowledge his weakness if weakness that could be 
 called that in the presence of such a bewitching vision 
 as Miss Virginia personated he was a happy subject to a 
 delightful enchantment. While perfectly aware of the 
 
 180
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 fact that he was irrevocably in love with Miss Virginia, 
 he never spoke to her about it, for he thought that a 
 sublime sentiment like love is, does not need to be ex 
 pressed in words, for by its own magic power it pene 
 trates the depths of soul binding two hearts in one. It 
 was an exceedingly interesting study for him to observe 
 day after day the evolving changes that were taking place 
 in her youthful soul. From a happy girl that she was be 
 fore the death of her mother, she was abruptly trans 
 formed into a maiden of mature age, fully cognizant of 
 the responsibilities and burdens of life. Absorbed in her 
 self-imposed duties, she knew how to control and subju 
 gate her most cherished wishes, her sole ambition being 
 the accomplishment of the undertaking she had conscious 
 ly chosen for the aim of her life. Perfectly mindful of 
 the ambitions which animated her soul, could he, without 
 offending his own feelings, disturb the order of things 
 established by her express wishes? Would it not be a 
 crime to interfere with the course she had taken ? Having 
 this in view, he had decided to await a more opportune 
 time. Then the incident of the discovery of her father s 
 letter took place, and another and more radical change 
 followed. She became sad, and taciturn, betraying a pe 
 culiar desire for solitude. She seemed to be displeased 
 with everybody, with the whole world. Always pleased 
 to see Mr. Milton, now she tried to avoid him. What 
 was the cause of such a sudden change ? Was she in love 
 with somebody else and wished to avoid him? A mature 
 reflection brought him to the conclusion that this was not 
 the case. Miss Virginia was not in love with anyone else. 
 It is true, that there were several young men who under 
 different pretences frequently visited her home, especially 
 
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 one Montgomery, well known about the town, who being 
 of an antediluvian type, was not able to control his at 
 traction to Miss Virginia, and boldly made advances in 
 his grotesque way. But, knowing well the exquisitely 
 cultured mind of Miss Virginia, he had no reason to 
 doubt that none of those could attract her. Especially 
 there was no danger of Mr. Montgomery s success. He 
 was a sort of a buffoon, who at any rate could be some 
 times amusing to her. But, then, what was the cause of 
 her peculiar tactics which unmistakably indicated that she 
 did not wish to see him as often as in former clays? He 
 had no answer to this. How r ever this unexpected and un- 
 explainable change in Miss Virginia did not discourage 
 him. He loved her just the same; even her sadness, 
 though it broke his heart, was a picture worthy of ad 
 miration, and now if he had any particular desire, it was 
 to see her the way she wished to be seen. These were the 
 existing relations between Miss Virginia and Mr. Mil 
 ton. To a practical observer it is clear, that they admired 
 and loved each other with the might of their souls, and 
 had it not been for that fatal letter, the existing relations 
 would have taken a more decisive turn. 
 
 One morning Mr. Milton went to call on one of his cli 
 ents in Chester Place, on business matters. After he had 
 finished his errand, instead of going to Twenty-third 
 street to take his car, he went in the opposite direction 
 and found himself on Adams street. Buried in his 
 thoughts he walked slowly along the sidewalk. Shortly 
 he found himself facing the Gladston home. When he 
 turned his head in that direction, he saw Miss Virginia 
 on the grounds. She had a pretty little basket in one 
 hand, and in the other a pair of pruning shears. She was 
 
 182
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 picking roses. She had quite a variety of them in her 
 basket. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Virginia," said Mr. Milton, di 
 recting his steps towards her, and raising his hat. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Milton," answered Miss Virginia. 
 "Is not this rather unusual, to see you here during the 
 morning hours?" inquired she, wistfully. 
 
 "Well, somewhat," said Mr. Milton. "I came on a 
 business matter to see one of my clients in this neighbor 
 hood, and while here I turned this way to say good morn 
 ing. How charming, to find you at your delightful occu 
 pation, picking your favorite flowers. Oh, but these 
 roses look so pretty this morning." 
 
 "Yes, they are pretty, as usual, but 
 
 "But what?" inquired Mr. Milton, examining the con 
 tents of her basket. 
 
 "But they have their thorns, just the same," answered 
 she, putting a Crimson Rambler in her basket. 
 
 "It is a good thing they have thorns. They are dan 
 gerous only to those who do not know how to handle the 
 pretty roses," remarked Mr. Milton, smiling pleasantly. 
 
 "That is true," said Miss Virginia, "but how few are 
 those who know how to gain that immunity. Moreover, 
 the matter must be considered on both sides. The avoid 
 ing of the unpleasant with the thorns might give pleasure 
 to those who handle them, but that does not insure the 
 safety of the roses. You know they are so sensitive to 
 surroundings. They need good care in order to preserve 
 their freshness. The selfish motive is not the best guar 
 antee, don t you think so?" 
 
 "Quite true," remarked Mr. Milton. "But that selfish 
 motive becomes a virtue, when one loves roses as they 
 
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 are with their thorns the way you do. You don t seem 
 to be afraid of them, are you?" 
 
 "Not at all," said Miss Virginia, looking at her basket 
 full of roses. "But now I want to put them in the vase, 
 won t you come in?" 
 
 Saying this she walked towards the house, Mr. Milton 
 following her. When they entered the library, Miss Vir 
 ginia put her basket on the table and began arranging 
 her bouquet. 
 
 "No, I am not afraid of thorns," resumed Miss Vir 
 ginia, putting the roses in the vase standing on the table, 
 "for I have learned that life is full of them, and I am be 
 ginning to be accustomed to them." 
 
 "You are speaking now like a person who knows much 
 about life and the thorns which pave its paths," said Mr. 
 Milton, removing the empty basket from the table. "But 
 while in the principle you are correct, I don t see how that 
 can be applied to you." 
 
 "It is because you don t see them in my life as I do," 
 said Miss Virginia quietly. "You are accustomed to see 
 ing everything around me in rosy colors. But 
 
 "Not always," interrupted Mr. Milton. "I have seen 
 you many and many times very sad and desolate, and 
 while I knew that there was something terrible which tor 
 tured you., notwithstanding all my efforts, so far, I never 
 succeeded in gaining your confidence on that subject. But 
 now that we are alone, and I have this opportunity, will 
 you permit me to be frank, and tell you something? Will 
 you listen?" 
 
 "You know, Mr. Milton, you don t need such an in 
 troduction in order to speak to me," said Miss Virginia. 
 "But I suppose it is because you have assumed lately a 
 
 184
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 very formal attitude towards me. I don t like that, but 
 of course I have no special privileges upon your atten 
 tion, have I ?" 
 
 "Do you doubt," said Mr. Milton, reproachfully. 
 "But let me depict to you the sad vision I have been con 
 templating during the last few years. You remember 
 that beautiful summer morning on the veranda while 
 still under the gloomy shadows of your mother s death 
 you said to me that you had all confidence in me, and 
 you wished me under the penalty of your displeasure to 
 be frank with you and always tell you, no matter how 
 bitter the truth, if I thought it was for your benefit?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, I could not forget that, for I still think 
 the same way, and that is what makes me suffer, for you 
 have not been to me what you then promised to be." 
 
 "Pardon me," resumed Mr. Milton, "but you are mis 
 judging my conduct. How could I tell you what was 
 best for you, when you would not tell me what was the 
 cause of your sufferings ? That I could not continue the 
 delightful converse with you was at your own bidding. 
 Nothing can efface from my memory those sad days 
 when I had to witness your deep sorrows which followed 
 the death of your good mother. But after awhile, when 
 the grief had subsided, thanks to your good judgment, 
 and when your life began to be a series of joys and com 
 plete satisfaction over your assumed duties, and when 
 everything seemed to be as encouraging as one could ex 
 pect under the circumstances, that fatal day came, which 
 was the beginning of the saddest part of your life and 
 mine also. I never can forget that afternoon when I was 
 listening to Camille in the parlor and you came in. You 
 called my attention to the picture of your father, telling 
 
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 me that soon you would have a similar one of your 
 mother, for you had learned from your aunt that you 
 could have such a one. I rejoiced then knowing that 
 such an acquisition would give you immense satisfac 
 tion, and you added that on the following day you would 
 show me the original picture from which you intended to 
 have one enlarged. I went home perfectly delighted in 
 witnessing your joy. Next day, O what a fatal day! 
 When I came to your house, Corinne told me that you 
 were very ill, so ill that you had to stay in your bed. Af 
 ter that I came every day to inquire about you, and not 
 before ten days had elapsed I saw you in the parlor. 
 Pale and exhausted as you were, you could not converse 
 with me, and I departed in an exasperated spirit. I 
 waited patiently day after day, week after week, but alas, 
 I never saw you such as you were before that fatal day. 
 Between then and now a number of years have passed. 
 During all this time, which seemed to me eternity, you 
 were sad and desolate. You avoided everybody, and 
 amongst them me. With your conduct you unmistakably 
 indicated that you did not wish to see me. What had I 
 to do? Could I force myself upon your attention? I 
 never had an opportunity to tell you, dear girl, how much 
 I suffered during that time. I tried my best to unearth 
 the causes of your sudden change, of your sadness, of 
 your cruel distress, but alas, all was in vain. All was and 
 still remains a mystery to me. Had I known what caused 
 you all these sufferings during these long years, I would 
 have given all, nay, even my life, to save you from the 
 pangs of this devouring monster, but a thousand times, 
 alas, it all remains to me a Sphinx of unfathomed enigma. 
 If you remember, I asked you, I implored you, to tell me 
 
 186
 
 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 the cause of your distress, which devoured your little 
 heart, but unfortunately I never succeeded in obtaining 
 from you a satisfactory answer. Have I ever displeased 
 you, dear Miss Virginia? Have I ever merited such a 
 mistrust from you, as you have been displaying towards 
 me during the last few years? Tell me now, was it I 
 who did not keep my promise to you? If I am to be 
 blamed, tell me now." 
 
 Listening to what Mr. Milton said, Miss Virginia en 
 dured an untold grief. She well knew that it was not 
 he who should be blamed; but could she tell him the real 
 cause of her own conduct? Should she try to justify 
 herself she would have to tell the whole story, yes, she 
 would have to tell the events of that memorable night 
 when she found that ominous letter. Whether its con 
 tents revealed truth or not, its discovery certainly was the 
 cause of her sudden change, which made her pass from 
 a life of contentment and hopeful future, into that of 
 despair, discouragement and hopelessness. Certainly she 
 could not mention all these. But having given cause to 
 the reflections so eloquently pointed out by Mr. Milton, 
 she had to explain the matter some way, and the only 
 way she could touch the subject was to pacify him with 
 out telling him the real cause of it all. 
 
 "No, Mr. Milton, you are not to be blamed," answered 
 Miss Virginia, hesitatingly, not knowing how to start, 
 and somewhat displeased at herself for having com 
 menced the conversation on the subject. "There is no 
 use for me to hide the fact that a sudden change took 
 place in my demeanor towards you after that memorable 
 day of which you are speaking, but please don t judge 
 me so severely, for it was not my fault. You know well 
 
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 I never had secrets from you, for you know my life from 
 the day you first came to our house. You also know 
 well, that I regarded you as the best and nearest friend 
 I ever had, and probably will have in the future. But a 
 thing happened which tore my heart, shattered all my 
 senses, and left me with no hope for the regaining of my 
 life, which started its awakening under your friendly in 
 fluence. The nature of that event is such, that notwith 
 standing all my confidence in you, which I never, never 
 lost, nor displaced, I must confess, that I cannot tell 
 you anything about it. Ah, if you only knew, if you 
 only could conceive, but Here she stopped, cover 
 ing with both hands her eyes filled with tears. Mr. Mil 
 ton was moved with compassion, unable to find consoling 
 words. In the meantime Miss Virginia vainly tried to 
 overcome her momentary emotion, for now the contents 
 of that ominous letter stood before her eyes in all its 
 nakedness. How could she tell him, that she was a child 
 of unknown parents, a foundling! Oh, no, no! A million 
 times better to die than to give up the secret of her heart, 
 she thought, and she burst again into bitter tears. 
 
 The picture was full of pathos. On one hand the sen 
 sitiveness of a highly intellectual maiden brought to 
 despair; on the other, powerless sympathy and compas 
 sion. 
 
 Finally Mr. Milton broke the silence. 
 
 "You know well, Miss Virginia," he said, "or if you 
 don t, let me tell you now, that the sorrow which has pen 
 etrated your sensitive heart so deeply, although its nature 
 is not known to me, pierces my heart with untold grief. 
 From what I learn now, I see that the matter is of a more 
 serious nature than I anticipated. There is an apprehen- 
 
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 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 sion of evil that troubles you, dear girl. But knowing 
 your life as I do, I confess, I cannot imagine what could 
 have disturbed your peace. The worst experiences that 
 a girl of your age could be subjected to, you have en 
 dured. You bore them courageously and bravely." 
 
 "Yes, I did," said Miss Virginia, "but what a differ 
 ence between the two. The events actuated by the laws 
 of nature, such as death, command our unconditional sub 
 mission, as you, yourself, taught me. But, an event 
 which flashes like a thunder-clap, causing irreparable 
 devastation and piercing a sensitive heart with a deadly 
 arrow, is a thing which no one can stand, and against 
 which one s soul protests, rebels with untold grievance; 
 but, oh, I cannot say anything more, it is terrible, ter 
 rible," and her tears poured down like a set of brilliants 
 rolling on her now rosy cheeks. 
 
 At the sight of this desolate picture, Mr. Milton lost 
 his usual calmness, and approaching, took her hand in 
 his and passionately said : 
 
 "Virginia, dear girl, why in the name of all that is 
 sacred to you, why are you concealing from me a secret 
 that is devouring your heart ? Why don t you tell me your 
 troubles? Don t you know I am your friend, your best 
 friend? Don t you know that with all my heart and soul 
 Ilo- 
 
 "For God s sake, no more," cried Miss Virginia, stand 
 ing before him erect in a menacing attitude. Her tears 
 disappeared as though by incantation, and looking at him 
 imploringly she continued : 
 
 "If you want to spare me, don t finish your sentence." 
 
 "\Vhy, Virginia," said Mr. Milton, with surprise, "are 
 you afraid of my confession? Have I to conclude that 
 
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 you have an aversion to what I am nourishing in my 
 heart for you?" 
 
 "Oh, no, it is not that," said Miss Virginia, with a 
 softer tone. "I know you would not like to make the 
 case worse than it is, and that is why I beseech you not 
 to make me more miserable than I am." 
 
 "But you astonish me," remarked Mr. Milton. "Why 
 miserable ? Why such an extremity ? What I wanted to 
 say is not to make you unhappy. I want to tell you 
 
 "Oh, I know well what you want to tell me," inter 
 rupted Miss Virginia, "but I also know the time has not 
 yet come for me to listen. If you really care for my feel 
 ings, I know you do, it is best not to say anything more 
 today 
 
 "Then tomorrow?" inquired Mr. Milton, smiling. 
 
 "Oh, no, no, not tomorrow, nor the day after. Until 
 the proper time comes. When, I will tell you. If that 
 time does not come, then better, thousands of times better, 
 for you not to say it, and for me not to listen," concluded 
 Miss Virginia. 
 
 "The more I listen to you, the more I am mystified." 
 said Mr. Milton thoughtfully. "If only you would ex 
 plain 
 
 "Ah, explain," repeated Miss Virginia sadly. "If only 
 I could, do you think I would hesitate for a moment to 
 tell you all I know 7 , or better, to say all that I don t know 
 and wish to know ? We have known each other now for 
 several years. As I said, you know all concerning my 
 life perhaps better than I. Up to that fatal day you had 
 no reason to complain of lack of willingness on my part 
 to listen to you. Beginning that day, an incident took 
 place which I confess still remains a mystery to me. But 
 
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 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 one thing is clear though, that as matters stand today 
 the wisest thing for both of us is to stay where we are. 
 That is, we remain friends, good friends, and nothing 
 more." 
 
 "But can I not help you in solving that mystery?" in 
 quired Mr. Milton insistently. "Do you know that the 
 worst feature of the case is that you seem to have lost 
 confidence in me? If I knew the nature of that mys 
 tery, I would do all in my power to relieve you of its 
 burden. But, I see you do not wish to confide it to me 
 for some reasons undoubtedly important enough to make 
 you act the way you are acting. However, let me ask 
 you one thing. Should you find I can be of service, will 
 you then tell me the whole truth?" 
 
 "That I promise you solemnly," said Miss Virginia, 
 firmly. 
 
 "And why not now?" asked Mr. Milton. 
 
 "Because now I am positive that it is not in your 
 power to do anything that would throw the desired light 
 on the still obscure case. Moreover, remember this well, 
 should I ever speak of it, it will be to you only." 
 
 "O dear girl well," said Mr. Milton, with submis 
 sion, "that perfectly satisfies me. I shall wait if neces 
 sary even the whole eternity to hear your final decree, 
 Miss Virginia. In the meantime I wish you would re 
 member that there is no sacrifice which I am not willing 
 to endure in order to make you feel as happy as you 
 were in days long past. Now I must leave you. Au 
 revoir." 
 
 Saying this, Mr. Milton arose, following Miss Vir 
 ginia to the hall. 
 
 "Just one moment," said Miss Virginia, returning to 
 
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 the library, where she had left her morning bouquet. She 
 brought a bud of pretty Kaiserin and put it into the but 
 ton-hole of his coat. 
 
 "Now you can go," said she, sadly. 
 
 "Not yet," came from the upper floor. It was Mrs. 
 Pratt s voice. "Virginia," she went on, "did you tell 
 Mr. Milton to bring with him his friend the Count when 
 he comes tomorrow?" 
 
 "Oh, I forgot all about it," returned Miss Virginia. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Milton," she said, "my aunt wishes to 
 make it sure that you will bring with you your friend 
 Count Morat. She is very anxious to meet him." 
 
 "Why, yes," replied Mr. Milton. "I spoke to him and 
 he at once said that he would be delighted to come with 
 me to become acquainted with both of you." 
 
 "Virginia," again the voice came from above. "I 
 wish also Mr. Milton would tell his mother to come early 
 in the afternoon and stay with us the rest of the time." 
 
 "All right, auntie," shouted Mr. Milton, gaily. "I 
 will send my mother over, as soon as she can possibly 
 come." 
 
 "Now, then, good-bye," said Mr. Milton, and shaking 
 hands with Miss Virginia cordially, he left the house. 
 
 "O, what an unfathomed sea!" thought Mr. Milton, 
 while leaving the house. 
 
 Contemplating what he had heard from Miss Virginia, 
 Mr. Milton was forced to come to the conclusion, that 
 the peculiar tactics adopted by her were not due to her 
 indifference to him. On the contrary, he was certain 
 that there was nothing changed in the existing relations 
 between himself and the girl he loved. Moreover, know 
 ing well her prudence, especially in matters pertaining to 
 
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 A LOVE THAT WAS NOT A MERE PASSION. 
 
 herself, he could not help concluding that the mystery 
 surrounding her conduct was of a nature she could not 
 control. But what was it? That remained unanswered. 
 Finally he concluded to arm himself with patience and 
 let events take their natural course. 
 
 193
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 There was an unusual activity in and around the Glad- 
 ston home. It was the day of the first autumnal recep 
 tion. The veranda was beautifully decorated with fanci 
 ful Chinese lanterns, forming a fantastic garland be 
 tween the columns. The tiny electric lamps of different 
 colors placed here and there in the green rose bushes and 
 ferns, growing around the house, and on the wide 
 grounds, produced a charming effect during the night. 
 Inside, the whole house was brilliantly illuminated. Mrs. 
 Milton, who had come early in the afternoon, now was 
 closeted with Mrs. Pratt, discussing things that were in 
 teresting to them. Miss Virginia busied herself about 
 the house. At about eight o clock, the invited guests 
 made their appearance. These were several girl friends 
 of Miss Virginia, who came first. The moment they en 
 tered the main hall, the little Corinne ran to meet them, 
 and in a most dignified manner proclaimed that the girls 
 must take notice, that the evening was a strictly French 
 affair, and that the language to be spoken was French. 
 
 194
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 This announcement had been prepared under the direction 
 of Miss Virginia, and she delivered it in exquisite French. 
 Those who understood what Corinne said, took the her 
 alded rule for the evening into consideration, and began 
 to speak French the best they knew how. Shortly a 
 party of young men arrived, and they were told the same 
 thing, one of the girls explaining that it would be a seri 
 ous breach of etiquette, should any of the young men 
 speak to any young girl in any other language than 
 French. This furnished the young people plenty of food 
 for merriment. There were few who could master Bal 
 zac s language, but this did not discourage the rest of 
 the crowd, for they improvised for the occasion a 
 French which was made up of English words with 
 French endings, so that everybody, whether a French 
 scholar or not, could understand it, and this made them 
 happy. After while more guests arrived, amongst whom 
 were our friends Dr. Ihringier and the jovial Mr. Irv 
 ing, with their wives. Next came Rev. Dr. Darling. 
 He was met by Mrs. Pratt, who conducted him to the 
 parlor, and very nicely succeeded in forming a circle 
 around him that was congenial. Most of these people 
 knew each other. But there were a few who were not 
 acquainted with everybody present. Amongst those was 
 Dr. Ihringier, who now and then turned to Mr. Irving 
 for information. In order to make his task easier, Mr. 
 Irving began to tell the Doctor, who was who, starting 
 from one end of the parlor and ending with the other. 
 
 While the little groups scattered in the room were en 
 gaged in conversation. Miss Virginia was encircled in 
 one end of the parlor by her young friends and admir 
 ers, amongst whom most prominently figured Mr. Mont- 
 
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 gomery. One of the girls, Miss Whiting, a charming 
 young lady, was relating her impressions of the trip to 
 Mount Lowe, where she had been for the first time the 
 day before. She had no adequate words to express her 
 admiration for the majestic scenery afforded by the elec 
 tric road running up and down the mountain. Especially 
 she dwelt upon the enchanting sight in the evening, while 
 standing near the Observatory and reviewing the im 
 mense plateau, comprising an area of hundreds of miles 
 spread before her. In the center of it, the city of Los 
 Angeles, lighted with its innumerable electric lamps on 
 the public thoroughfares and private buildings, repre 
 sented a nocturnal picture rarely seen anywhere else. 
 Numerous electric cars running in all directions outside 
 of the city, could be easily discerned swiftly moving to 
 their destinations. The ocean-side towns in full blaze of 
 electric lights pointed out the terminus of the main land 
 bordering the great Pacific. Looking at the celestial ex 
 panse above, it seemed as though the fascinating picture 
 spread below was a reflection of the majestic sky, 
 dotted with myriads of its beautiful stars. "This is a 
 picture which hardly can be conceived by any one unless 
 seen as I saw it," concluded Miss Whiting. 
 
 While this was going on, Mr. Milton and Count 
 Morat entered the parlor. Mrs. Pratt immediately arose 
 to meet them. Shaking hands with her, Mr. Milton in 
 troduced his friend, Count Morat, who was offered a 
 chair between the two ladies, Mrs. Milton, whom he al 
 ready knew, and Mrs. Pratt, with whom he began to 
 converse. In the meantime Mr. Milton, as though 
 searching for some one, disappeared. Shortly he came 
 in with Miss Virginia, who, having been called to the 
 
 196
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 library, was absent at the moment when these two gen 
 tlemen entered the room. While walking from the 
 main door, they were facing Count Morat, who was 
 seated in the opposite end of the parlor. When Count 
 Morat saw them entering, his sharp eye caught the sight 
 of Miss Virginia the moment she appeared in the room. 
 He was struck as though by a magic vision. The ex 
 pression of his face was that of a man who unexpectedly 
 met some one whom he thought he knew, yet was un 
 able to give a clear account of the incident. The nearer 
 Miss Virginia came to him, the greater was his amaze 
 ment. But, master of himself as he was, he knew how 
 to control his feelings. At this instant Miss Virginia 
 stood before him modest in appearance, but with a per 
 sonality that marked distinction and gentle birth. 
 
 "This is Miss Virginia Gladston," said Mr. Milton, 
 with a tone which plainly indicated his supreme pride in 
 the girl of his heart s choice. 
 
 Count Morat shook the offered hand of Miss Virginia 
 affably, and asked her to take his chair; but she begged 
 to be excused, not wishing to disturb him. In the 
 meantime Mr. Milton brought a chair for her, and placed 
 it next to the Count. Count Morat seemed at first as 
 though somewhat uneasy, evidently due to the first im 
 pression he had, but shortly he mastered the situation 
 and commenced an interesting conversation with the 
 young hostess. Were there an interested observer, he 
 could easily detect that there was something unusual 
 which disturbed the habitual calmness of Count Morat. 
 After a few remarks Miss Virginia arose, saying that 
 she wished the Count to know the rest of the family, and 
 
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 disappeared. Shortly she came back in company with 
 her two brothers and the little sister. 
 
 "This is my brother Charley, our musician par excel 
 lence," said Miss Virginia. "The next is Camille, our 
 little astronomer, and the youngest is my little sister 
 Corinne." 
 
 "I am charmed to meet every one of you," said Count 
 Morat, shaking hands with all of them with a genuine 
 delight, for he was a lover of children. 
 
 "Now that you are here, Corinne," said Mrs. Pratt, 
 "won t you let us hear the little verses you have learned 
 in French?" 
 
 The little girl looked inquiringly at Miss Virginia, and 
 having received her approval, consented to recite. She 
 stood for a while somewhat embarrassed, and finally 
 started with a calm and distinct voice: 
 
 CONSEILS A UN ENFANT. (*) 
 Oh ! bien loin de la voie 
 Ou marche le pecheur, 
 Chemine ou Dieu t envoie! 
 Enfant! garde ta joie! 
 Lis ! garde ta blancheur ! 
 
 Sois humble! que t importe 
 
 Le riche et le puissant ! 
 
 Un souffle les emporte. 
 
 La force la plus forte, 
 
 C est un coeur innocent. Victor Hugo. 
 
 (*) Counsels to a Child. 
 
 Far from the ways of a sinner, walk thou the paths in which 
 God leads thee. O, child, guard thy joy. O, lily, preserve thy 
 purity. 
 
 Be humble. What car st thou for riches and power, which 
 are carried away by a breath. The power of powers is an in 
 nocent heart. 
 
 198
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 Scarcely had Corinne finished her recitation, when a 
 loud hand-clapping echoed from all corners of the big 
 room. Those in the farther ends, demanded an encore, 
 so that the little girl was forced to repeat her verses. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Millard, a matronly looking 
 lady, sitting next to Mrs. Milton, "La force la plus forte, 
 c est tin coeur innocent." 
 
 "She recited it very prettily," remarked Mrs. Milton. 
 "One can see the training of her sister." 
 
 "Yes, the splendid training is quite evident," said 
 Count Morat, looking at Miss Virginia. "But I am im 
 pressed very much by the selection of the names of these 
 children." 
 
 "That selection has its own story," said Mrs. Pratt. 
 "My brother-in-law, Mr. Gladston, was a man who never 
 did anything which was not actuated by a thought that 
 interested him for some reasons. The naming of his 
 first child was his act of patriotism. His second was 
 named after his father, and that was the expression of 
 his filial affection. The third he named after the great 
 French astronomer, Camille Flammarion, for whom he 
 always had a great admiration; and finally Corinne was 
 named as a tribute to the genius of Madame de Stael, 
 the great lady of Napoleonic times." 
 
 "He was a man of my heart," said Mrs. Milton. 
 "While exploring and admiring great men of science, he 
 did not neglect to pay his homage to the memory of a 
 great woman. In admiring Madame de Stael, he sym 
 bolized in her person a thinking woman, and this is ex 
 ceedingly gratifying." 
 
 "Undoubtedly the selection is very fortunate," remarked 
 Count Morat. "Madame de Stael was a lady of ex- 
 
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 quisite refinements, and of a powerful intellect. Above 
 all she was a charming 1 conversationalist. She stood 
 alone as a bright star of, her times, and as such she was 
 the most influential woman. Notwithstanding the inces 
 sant and barbaric persecutions instituted by the then mas 
 ter of Europe, Napoleon the Great, she never ceased to 
 be the idol of the highly cultured classes. Wherever she 
 happened to be in Europe, representatives of science, poli 
 tics and arts went to her to pay the homage de 
 servedly due her. Every man and woman of conse 
 quence was attracted to her by that magic power, which 
 she alone knew how to exercise." 
 
 "That is the kind of a woman we need nowadays," 
 said Mrs. Milton, who could not conceal her delight in 
 hearing the fitting eulogy of Madame de Stael. "To 
 educate the woman of our days to a high standard of in 
 tellectuality, is the object of our times. The work per 
 formed by our Ebell Institution, as limited as it is, tends 
 in that direction. We need very badly thinking men as 
 well as thinking women, who can be guided by their own 
 rational thinking, and not remain forever slaves to a set 
 of rules belonging to the dark ages." 
 
 "That is one more reason why the greatest astronomer 
 of our days should be admired by all," said Miss Vir 
 ginia, fondling her brother Camille, who, sitting on the 
 floor, was leaning his head against her knees. 
 
 "Virginia follows the sentiment of her father in ad 
 miring the French philosopher," remarked Mrs. Pratt. 
 
 "She is perfectly correct," joined Mr. Milton. "For 
 today there is no scientist who has accomplished more 
 in enlightening the masses than he." 
 
 "In what way?" inquired Dr. Ihringier, who was al- 
 
 200
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 ways to be found wherever science was discussed. "Or, 
 rather, to put my question in a more precise form, I 
 should have asked : in what consists his peculiar merit, 
 which makes him, in your opinion, stand higher than 
 any other man of science?" 
 
 "In the fact, that he sees more through his scientific 
 eyes than any other man," replied Mr. Milton. "Most 
 of the men who deal with mathematics are men of a 
 mechanical precision. When they reach a certain math 
 ematical conclusion, they announce it to the world as an 
 ultimatum against which there is no appeal. While 
 with Flammarion one goes much farther. In the me 
 chanical construction of the Universe he sees not only 
 what is visible to others, but, by the precision of a scien 
 tist he detects the existence of the power that rules and 
 animates all. The cry of so-called materialists of today, 
 hither and no farther, does not stop him. He wants to 
 know more, and he learns it with his wonderful re 
 searches, and with still more wonderful methods he 
 teaches it to millions of his readers. This is what makes 
 Flammarion what he is." 
 
 "Virginia," said Camille, raising his head and looking 
 at his sister. "What is Pygmalion?" 
 
 "Pygmalion," repeated Miss Virginia. "What makes 
 you ask such a question?" 
 
 "Now that you are speaking of Flammarion, it came 
 to my mind, that sometimes his comrades used to call 
 him by that name. What does it mean ?" 
 
 "I cannot tell you," answered Miss Virginia, laugh 
 ing heartily. "Ask Mr. Milton ; he may tell you." 
 
 "I will do so gladly," said Mr. Milton ; "but first you 
 must tell me where did you find that word." 
 
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 "I was reading Flammarion s book, I don t remember 
 now which one, and found it there, where he writes that 
 some of his chums used to call him by that name." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Mr. Irving, who was now awak 
 ened by the improvised talk of Camille. "Are you, lit 
 tle boy, reading such works as Flammarion s? You 
 must be a phenomenal boy." 
 
 "Nothing phenomenal about him," remarked Mrs. 
 Pratt. "Camille has read all there is translated of Mr. 
 Flammarion s works. He is not only by the name a 
 Camille. He loves astronomy, and all he knows he has 
 learned from the writings of that great man of science 
 whose name he bears." 
 
 "You must consider, Mr. Irving," said Miss Virginia, 
 "that Flammarion s writings are very accessible to all. 
 He uses a language which by its simplicity impresses 
 more forcibly than any other on the same subject." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Count Morat. "Camille Flam 
 marion s writings are the gems of our scientific world. 
 He takes his readers in a most gracious manner into space 
 millions and millions of miles away from our planet, and 
 shows him in a tangible way the beautiful structure of 
 the Universe. Amongst the myriads of bright stars, he 
 points out an insignificant bluish spot, looking not larger 
 than the end of a pin, and tells you, There is your earth ; 
 look at it and see how little, how unimportant it is when 
 compared with the rest of visible stars. When you gaze 
 upon the stupendous greatness of the Universe and its 
 immensity, you conceive the smallness of yourself and 
 your earth, and then you begin to realize what all your 
 bravery in your beliefs and disbeliefs and the rest which 
 constitutes vour little horizon of earthlv life amounts to. 
 
 202
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 It is a joy, a delight to follow him in his travels amongst 
 the stars and planets. He is perfectly justified in assert 
 ing that we should learn to solve the mysteries of life by 
 familiarizing ourselves with the science of astronomy. 
 An astronomy at the hand of some of our astronomers, 
 who are as dull as an old fashioned shoemaker, does not 
 teach us anything. Astronomy in the masterly hands of 
 Camille Flammarion is a joy. It is a science that teaches 
 things which are positive, but how delightfully interest 
 ing, only he knows who follows him in his heavenly pere 
 grinations." 
 
 "Mr. Milton," said Camille, impatiently, "will you 
 now tell me what is Pygmalion?" 
 
 "Pygmalion is the name of a legendary King of Cy 
 prus," said Mr. Milton, "whom licentious conduct of his 
 country-women so disgusted that he conceived a hatred 
 against the whole sex. According to Ovid, he made an 
 ivory female statue of such exceeding beauty that he fell 
 desperately in love with it, and prayed Venusto endow it 
 with life. The goddess granted his request. Pygmalion 
 then married the object of his affections, and by her had 
 a son called Paphus, who founded the city of that name." 
 
 "Yes," said Camille, "but I still do not understand why 
 Flammarion should be called Pygmalion." 
 
 "Simply because he, like Pygmalion, fell in love with 
 Urania, who was not, as he says, a fair blue-eyed maiden, 
 a dream of spring, an innocent but inquisitive daughter of 
 Eve; she was simply one of the nine Muses, who presided 
 over astronomy, and whose statue became the object of 
 Mr. Flammarion s affections. But this happened when 
 he was only a few years older than you, Camille," con 
 cluded Mr. Milton. 
 
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 During this time the silent figure of Mr. Montgomery 
 followed Miss Virginia whenever he could. He did not 
 take part in any conversations, because, as he said, he was 
 not interested in them ; but actually it was because he could 
 not discuss anything that would interest anybody. Now 
 and then he spoke to Miss Virginia, but his remarks were 
 of such a nature that they could not engage her atten 
 tion. While in society he was invariably attracted by a 
 glittering diamond ring or any other shining thing which 
 commonly is called jewelry. Of these he would speak 
 for hours, could he find listeners. But these things did 
 not interest Miss Virginia. She had far more refined 
 taste than that. All sorts of jewelry she called by their 
 proper name, "the relics of barbarism." If a girl, young 
 or old, is not attractive by her natural charms, she can 
 not be made such by hanging on her person all sorts of 
 shining metals and stones, no matter how expensive they 
 may be. A woman who does not know that simplicity 
 in dress and appearance is the most gracious adornment 
 of nature she can be proud of, had better cultivate her 
 tastes. This was Miss Virginia s opinion, and she was 
 perfectly correct. 
 
 While Count Morat and the rest turned their attentions 
 to Dr. Darling, who now was discussing Dante, the poet 
 of theologians, Miss Virginia, noticing that Mr. Milton 
 was sitting alone on the sofa, went to sit next to him. 
 Naturally Mr. Montgomery followed her and took a 
 chair next to that corner of the sofa where Miss Virginia 
 was sitting. At this moment, as though by a command, 
 the big Maltese cat made his appearance, and leaping on 
 the sofa lolled down, putting its shapely head on Miss 
 Virginia s lap. 
 
 204
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 "Poor Fedo," said Miss Virginia, patting the pretty 
 animal, "He is longing for caresses." Then suddenly, 
 as though finding some connection between him and the 
 man sitting near by, turning to Mr. Montgomery she 
 said : 
 
 "Well, Mr. Montgomery, did you find the difference 
 between your man and my cat?" 
 
 Mr. Montgomery, who was in the seventh heaven, ad 
 miring his own diamond ring, was mercilessly brought 
 down to reality by surprise. He looked at the cat with 
 such a disugust that it made him appear ugly. He did 
 not answer until the question was repeated once more. 
 
 "Oh, well, said he, arising, "I think I will go to see 
 Charley about that game we are planning for tomorrow 7 ." 
 
 "Looking at the disappearing genial hero. Miss Vir 
 ginia smiled with compassion, and related to Mr. Milton 
 the conversation she had with him some time ago. Hear 
 ing this Mr. Milton was greatly amused. He thought 
 it was a stratagem worthy of a great general, and they 
 both laughed. 
 
 "How do you like my friend the Count?" asked Mr. 
 Milton. 
 
 "He is perfectly charming," replied Miss Virginia, 
 with her usual frankness. "It may appear strange to 
 you, but I must confess, I feel very much attracted to 
 him." 
 
 "What, so soon?" inquired Mr. Milton jestingly. 
 
 "Without joking. It is a sensation which I never ex 
 perienced before," remarked Miss Virginia quite seriously. 
 
 "Can you describe the sensation?" asked Mr. Milton. 
 "What is it like?" 
 
 Well, I don t know. But it seems to me as though he 
 
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 carries with him an atmosphere with soothing qualities. 
 It is a flow of tranquility and harmony. Can you under 
 stand such a sensation ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, for I feel it always wherever I am with 
 you, my dear girl," said Mr. Milton, smiling. 
 
 "O well, but tell me really, have you ever experienced 
 such a thing while with a stranger?" asked Miss Virginia. 
 
 "Very often," replied Mr. Milton, gravely. "It is a 
 well known fact that some people possess that peculiar 
 quality which in some cases attracts and in others repels. 
 I felt that attraction when I first met Count Morat. I 
 feel safe in saying that since you have had a similar ex 
 perience, you will enjoy his presence every time you meet 
 him." 
 
 At this juncture the little Corinne came to tell Miss 
 Virginia that all was ready in the library. This was in 
 regard to the musical program of the evening. 
 
 The home raised virtuosos were ready. Following the 
 program, Charley Gladston made the opening by playing 
 on the piano Mozart s Fantasia in C minor. Then fol 
 lowed a violin solo, by one of Charley s friends. The 
 sweet duet, "O That We Two Were Maying," was sung 
 by two girl friends of Miss Virginia. The program 
 ended by a pretty piano duettino played by Corinne and 
 another little girl of her age, Georgia Benton. All these 
 numbers were applauded very enthusiastically. Now re 
 freshments were served. The guests were divided into 
 small groups chatting and prattling with their friends. 
 Miss Virginia gave all her attention to those little things 
 which on similar occasions are incumbent upon the 
 hostess. 
 
 During this time, while the musical program was in 
 
 206
 
 Rubio Canyon
 
 THE FIRST MEETING. 
 
 progress, and afterwards when everybody seemed engaged 
 with himself, Count Morat remained silent. His thought 
 followed Miss Virginia. He was intently observing her 
 movements and contemplating things which seemed to 
 him very strange and mysterious. At times he was very 
 much depressed. About this time he noticed some of the 
 guests leaving the house. Following their example he 
 arose, shook hands with the ladies, bidding them good 
 night, but he could not depart. He was looking for Miss 
 Virginia, who shortly entered the room. Count Morat, 
 now ready to go,, approached her, took her little hand 
 in his, and for a few seconds remained silent. He was 
 looking into that face which mystified and bewitched 
 him. Finally he wished her good night and left the 
 house. Before however he reached the veranda, Mr. Mil 
 ton joined to see him off in his carriage, which was wait 
 ing for him on the side entrance of the house. Taking 
 his seat in his landau he shook hands with Mr. Milton, 
 saying that he had had a very enjoyable evening, and 
 ordered Yonan, who now was sitting next to the driver, 
 to start home with full speed. 
 
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 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 "Yonan," said the Count, entering his room, "where 
 were you during the evening? Did you stay in the 
 house?" 
 
 "Yes, Master; I was in the library," answered the 
 Chaldean. 
 
 "Did you see?" 
 
 "Yes, Master," interrupted Yonan, glad he was given 
 an opportunity to speak. "I saw, but, Master, do you 
 think ?" 
 
 "Well, I don t know, but, oh ! such a resemblance, 
 such a vivid picture of my brother 
 
 "Yes, Master, a perfect one. But did you notice the 
 mark on her face?" 
 
 "No, I did not. Do you know anything about the 
 mark?" inquired Count Morat. 
 
 "O Lord! Do I know? Indeed I do. That little star 
 on her rosy cheek, near her ear, which I remember see 
 ing so often when I used to carry the little angel on my 
 arms," replied Yonan. 
 
 208
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 "A queer coincidence, perhaps; but tell me your im 
 pressions, Yonan," said the Count, taking a chair. 
 
 "I was in the library, Master, when she came in, and 
 walked directly to me. When she stood before me, I 
 was amazed, dumbfounded. Her blue eyes, the expres 
 sion of her face, and especially that little mark on her 
 cheek, which I saw instantly, although partly covered 
 with her immensely rich hair, thrilled me to the soul. 
 She spoke to me kindly, wishing me to be at home. I 
 took the magazine she offered for my amusement, but, 
 O Lord, I felt I wanted to cry. The baby, the sweet little 
 
 baby, stood before my eyes Oh, Master, I never lost 
 
 my hopes for the recovery of the lost princess, but now 
 more than ever I feel that I was not misguided by my 
 intuition." 
 
 "Well," said Count Morat, thoughtfully, "if this is a 
 coincidence, certainly it is a very remarkable one." 
 
 When a few minutes afterwards the Count found him 
 self alone, he began to pace his room to and fro. He 
 was so agitated after he had heard Yonan, that he hardly 
 could think in a consecutive manner, for his thoughts 
 were crowding in a mass of confusion. 
 
 "Gladston, Gladston," he began to repeat, pacing the 
 room more rapidly. "Don t I know this name? Can it 
 be that this is the family I heard of in Mosul? O, but 
 what an idea ! There are a good many Gladstons in this 
 world. But the girl that striking resemblance a real 
 picture of my brother is that a dream or a seductive 
 vision ?" Thus thinking, he was lost in his reverie. Miss 
 Virginia constantly stood before his eyes, now absorbing, 
 now shattering his thoughts. Pictures of the past ap 
 peared in a panoramic view reminding him of his disap- 
 
 209
 
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 pointments and bitter experiences. But the picture of 
 the golden-haired girl, as the magnet around which all 
 the rest was vibrating, remained firm, looking at him 
 and smiling. "Look, look at that picture; don t you rec 
 ognize her? Don t you recognize my child? Does she not 
 look like me?" said a voice, evidently coming from some 
 one who did not belong to this visible world. "Oh, a 
 nightmare, a hallucination perhaps all this is," he thought. 
 However, gradually he came back to the reality, as he 
 saw it and began to reason. "Whatever there is in this 
 mysterious vision that I am having, it certainly deserves 
 to be investigated," he thought. Then he began to 
 search for the shortest way to accomplish this. "The 
 first thing I have to do," he went on thinking, "is to learn 
 the history of this Gladston family. How fortunate that 
 Mr. Milton knows them. But would a superficial de 
 scription from hearsay be of any value to me? Oh no ; I 
 must have thorough information, and this can only be 
 obtained from one who knows it authoritatively, and who 
 would be interested in the matter as much as I am. Why 
 not take Mr. Milton into my confidence? But suppose, 
 after all, this is simply a coincidence, a resemblance such 
 as we find so often; in that case what would be the use 
 of letting Mr. Milton know the secret of my mission? 
 No, this is not the best way to start with; still, a little 
 talk with him on this subject will not do any harm." He 
 looked at his watch feverishly. It was near midnight. 
 He wanted to telephone to Mr. Milton immediately in or 
 der to tell him that he wanted to see him the first thing 
 in the morning. But after thinking for a little while he 
 came to the conclusion, that this hasty action might ex 
 cite his curiosity, or even suspicion, and he concluded to 
 
 210
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 wait until morning. After a sleepless night, which was 
 spent in disquieting meditation, he arose earlier than 
 usual, and started his daily work by examining certain 
 documents of importance. 
 
 Yonan was not surprised when he saw his Master in 
 the library in the early morning, for he himself had a 
 very bad night. He was very anxious to speak to him, 
 but he knew he could not do so until his Master had 
 come to the dining room, so he waited. When Count 
 Morat took his seat at the breakfast table, 
 
 "Master," said Yonan, putting the freshly made choc 
 olate on the table, "were you not aware of the fact that 
 the princess had a birth mark just like that one Miss Vir 
 ginia has on her face?" 
 
 "Yes, I know the child had a mark on her face; but I 
 was so struck with the general appearance of Miss Vir 
 ginia, that I did not think of that mark. Her eyes, her 
 complexion, and especially her strong resemblance to my 
 brother, is so vivid, that I could not think of anything 
 else. But now that you have called my attention to that 
 mark, I am more puzzled than ever." 
 
 "But do you know, Master, that the princess had an 
 other mark?" inquired Yonan, wistfully. 
 
 "No, I do not remember that. Why, what was the 
 other mark?" asked Count Morat. 
 
 "The other mark is exactly similar to that one on her 
 face, and is located under her right arm. I remember 
 well, for I have seen that mark many a time, and used 
 to wonder about their similarity. If this is our princess, 
 she must have the other mark as well," concluded Yonan, 
 looking inquiringly at his master. 
 
 "If this were our princess," repeated Count Morat 
 
 211
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 sadly. "This charming girl, as you see, is an Amreican, 
 undoubtedly born and raised in this country. O what a 
 foolish idea to think that she could be the lost princess! 
 Poor child ! God only knows what became of her." 
 
 "But, Master," resumed Yonan, "don t you know some 
 times there are miracles? Besides, that resemblance to 
 my Master, the late Prince, and above all, that birth-mark, 
 that wonderful mark, do you think all these count for 
 nothing? This lady may be an American, just as much 
 as we are now, for after all we don t know where she was 
 born, nor do we know who were her parents." 
 
 "As for her parents, it seems there is no doubt that 
 she is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Gladston, but, oh, 
 dear me better not talk any more on this subject. In 
 stead have the carriage ready in half an hour. I want 
 to see Mr. Milton, and as he is always in his office during 
 the morning hours, we will drive there, where undoubted 
 ly I will be able to learn something by which I can be 
 guided." 
 
 Half an hour later Count Morat was in his carriage 
 driving towards the city. 
 
 Mr. Milton was pleasantly surprised when he saw 
 Count Morat entering his office. Noticing this, the 
 Count hastened to explain that he was on his way to 
 Pasadena, and being so near, he thought he would step 
 in for a good morning. Mr. Milton immediately opened 
 the door to his private room and invited the Count to a 
 comfortable chair. 
 
 "Well, Count," said Mr. Milton, "how do you like the 
 Gladston family? Don t you think Miss Virginia is a 
 charming girl?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, more than charming, she is simply be- 
 
 212
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 witching," replied the Count, glad that Mr. Milton start 
 ed the conversation on the subject. This afforded him a 
 good opportunity to make his inquiries without exciting 
 undue suspicion. Having learned that Mr. Milton knew 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gladston personally, and that in fact his 
 father and Mr. Gladston had been old friends, and that 
 the existing friendly relations between the two families 
 were of long standing, Count Morat instantly arrived at 
 the conclusion, that he was on the wrong track, for he 
 could not see how Miss Virginia could have any connec 
 tion with the object of his researches. But finally he said : 
 
 "According to what you say, I have to conclude that 
 Miss Virginia was born in Richmond ? Am I correct ?" 
 
 "No, Miss Virginia was not born in America," an 
 swered Mr. Milton. "She was born somewhere in Asi 
 atic Turkey, while Mr. and Mrs. Gladston were there, if 
 I am not mistaken, for two years, and when they came 
 back the little girl was about six or seven months old." 
 
 When Count Morat heard of Asiatic Turkey, his heart 
 began to palpitate rapidly. "The beginning is quite 
 promising," he thought, and cautiously proceeded with 
 further inquiries, but unfortunately he could not learn 
 anything more from Mr. Milton, for he did not know 
 the exact name of the locality where Mr. and Mrs. Glad 
 ston were living in Asiatic Turkey, nor did he know the 
 correct date of Miss Virginia s birth. Concluding that 
 a further inquiry might be dangerous, inasmuch as it 
 might betray his particular interest in the matter, Count 
 Morat ended his morning visit with some remarks on lit 
 tle nothings, and left the office. 
 
 While in his carriage, he commenced to think. What 
 he had learned from Mr. Milton in regard to the Glad- 
 
 213
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 ston family, although somewhat important, was so little 
 that practically it amounted to nothing 1 . The information 
 obtained showed that Mr. and Mrs. Gladston had lived 
 for some time in Asiatic Turkey, but in what particular 
 locality, what particular time, and in what capacity they 
 were there, was yet to be found out. Now the question 
 was, how, by what means and from what sources could 
 he get this information. He could not count on Mr. Mil 
 ton, for he knew nothing in regard to these details. Fin 
 ally, after long contemplation, he came to the conclusion 
 that there was only one way, namely, to cultivate the ac 
 quaintance of Miss Virginia, and eventually learn from 
 her all he wanted to know.. This object in view, a few 
 days later Count Morat paid another visit to the Glad 
 ston family. 
 
 A man of culture and refinement such as Count Morat 
 was, familiar with the most fastidious requirements of 
 social life, the masterly application of which was one of 
 his prominent traits, gallant in his manners, and charm 
 ing in his address, did not encounter much difficulty in 
 pleasing the two ladies, who now became the only object 
 of his attentions. Mrs. Pratt was only glad to take ad 
 vantage of the opportunity presented, and to extend her 
 standing invitation to the gentleman savant for all of 
 her Tuesdays. Yes, indeed, his presence at her literary 
 gatherings would be considered a highly flattering favor : 
 and both Mrs. Pratt and Miss Virginia would be only 
 glad to see him at their house as often as he might con 
 sider convenient. After this delightful visit, as could be 
 expected, Count Morat became a frequent visitor on 
 Adams street. The better he knew Miss Virginia, the 
 greater was his admiration for her exquisite qualities. 
 
 214
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 Her systematical life, combined with that punctuality 
 which made her task so much more effective, her sincere 
 and deep devotion to the children, her everlastingly vivid 
 interest in all pertaining to their welfare, were qualities 
 which forcibly demanded his high regard. Absolutely 
 devoid of selfishness, she devoted herself entirely to the 
 assumed duties of a mother. In performing these self- 
 imposed obligations, she found the enjoyment of her life. 
 "O. what a noble specimen of womanhood," thought he, 
 lovingly, every time he saw her. Observing every small 
 est detail in her conduct, he found in her many traits 
 which were quite familiar to him, for they were identical 
 with the characteristics of his own family. 
 
 On the other hand, owing to his erudition and versa 
 tility, Count Morat s frequent visits became a source of 
 special delight to Miss Virginia. She knew well how to 
 value his delightful conversations, which were as pleas 
 ant as they were instructive. These pleased her immense 
 ly, for thus she could learn more in one hour, than in a 
 month by reading books, which in many cases required 
 a technical training for the understanding of a given sub 
 ject. Owing to this, Count Morat was always a welcome 
 guest at her home. Besides, there was something very 
 mysterious about him. The attraction she felt for him 
 the day she saw him first, grew 7 stronger every day. 
 Strange to say, in his presence she felt a security similar 
 to that which a child feels in the arms of its mother, and 
 which she had not experienced since her mother s death. 
 What was still more striking, she never could see in him 
 a stranger. What was the cause of all this ? She could 
 not tell. All she knew was, that she was greatly pleased 
 
 215
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 with the established relations between herself and the 
 Count. 
 
 In the meantime, Count Morat was radiant with un 
 told joy. His object and sole aim was, to gain Miss Vir 
 ginia s full confidence, and this was now an accomplished 
 fact. Cognizant of this, he congratulated himself upon 
 the success of his undertaking. Now that the way was 
 paved, he thought the time had come to make another 
 move for the advancement of his researches. Having 
 this in view, one day while he was alone in the parlor 
 with Miss Virginia, looking at the picture of Mr. Glad- 
 ston, he inquired whether that picture represented a good 
 likeness of her father. Receiving an affirmative answer, 
 he said : 
 
 "I understand your father lived for some time in Asi 
 atic Turkey. Do you know in what particular locality he 
 was stationed?" 
 
 "My parents had been living for two years in the city 
 of Mosul," answered Miss Virginia, "where my father 
 was engaged in archaeological researches in a nearby 
 place called Nemrud; and strange to say, Mosul is my 
 birth-place, although I do not remember anything of it, 
 for I was only seven months old when I was brought to 
 this country." 
 
 "Is that possible!" exclaimed Count Morat, with gen>- 
 uine surprise. "I know that city very well, for I lived 
 there myself for some time. But could you tell me some 
 thing about the work accomplished by your father?" 
 
 "With pleasure," answered Miss Virginia, pleasantly. 
 "But I think I can do a little better than that. Instead 
 of telling you what I have heard of my parents, I can 
 give you a printed account in which you will find not 
 
 216
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 only a thorough description of the work accomplished in 
 Nemrud, but the correct biography of my father as well." 
 
 Saying this she went to the library and brought a 
 prettily bound volume, which she gave to the Count. 
 This was more than he could ever expect, for by the writ 
 ten account surely he would learn more than in any other 
 way. His anxiety to examine the book was so great, 
 that he excused himself adroitly, and left the house hur 
 riedly, carrying his book with him. 
 
 The moment he reached his house, he entered the 
 library and began the reading of the biography of Mr. 
 Gladston with an unusual interest, whereby he learned 
 the exact date and length of time Mr. Gladston stayed 
 in the city of Mosul. When he compared the time of 
 Mr. Gladston s return from the country, with that of 
 his trip there, he found that it was exactly in the same 
 spring of the same year. "By Jove!" he exclaimed joy 
 ously, "this is then the man of whom I heard in Mosul." 
 Then he continued reading until he reached the passage 
 where Mr. Gladston s return was described. Here he 
 stopped mystified, and re-read the same passage, which 
 stated that Mr. Gladston and his party, while returning to 
 Europe, had crossed the Arabian desert in order to reach 
 the Mediterranean coast, and that Mr. Gladston, with 
 his wife and child that was born to them in the city of 
 Mosul, safely reached London, etc. "What?" he ex 
 claimed, "a child that was born to them in Mosul ? But 
 there was no child while the Gladston family was in that 
 city !" These two details threw him off the track again, 
 for he did not know how to reconcile them with the facts 
 known to him. From the information he had about the 
 man in the city of Mosul, there was nothing said about 
 
 217
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 the child; on the contrary Mr. Gladston did not have a 
 child when he left that city, and again, the route he had 
 taken was the northern one, leading to the Black Sea. 
 This was an evident contradiction. According to the 
 version he knew, and that contained in the book, there 
 would be two Gladstons. One who had no child, and 
 took the route going north to Van and then to the Black 
 Sea, and the other, who had a child and took the western 
 route through the deserts of Mesopotamia, reaching the 
 Mediterranean Sea. Now the fact was that there was 
 only one Mr. Gladston, the archaeologist, who was in 
 Mosul, and that one, he knew positively had no child and 
 had returned to Europe via the Black Sea. This was de 
 cidedly a very complicated problem. But after all, he 
 thought, who knows whether Yonan was not right saying 
 that sometimes there were miracles, and if he could solve 
 this, certainly it would be a glorious miracle. At this 
 juncture a thought like a flash passed through his mind. 
 He thought of Yonan and the picture of Mr. Gladston. 
 "O, what a splendid idea," he exclaimed contentedly. 
 The uncertainty and complication connected with the 
 matter commanded a strict precaution. Accordingly he 
 made up his plan. Next day, in the afternoon, having 
 notified Miss Virginia that he would be with her, he or 
 dered Yonan to go with him. Miss Virginia received 
 the Count in the parlor, as usual, with much courtesy. 
 She was very curious to know what he had to say in re 
 gard to the contents of the book she gave him to read. 
 After a few usual remarks, the Count commenced to dis 
 cuss the merit of the work accomplished by Mr. Gladston 
 in Nemrud, throwing such flattering light on the techni 
 cality of the work, as to considerably increase its value, 
 
 218
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 which naturally aroused Miss Virginia s filial pride. As 
 an accessory to the lively conversation, Miss Virginia 
 brought an album in which she had several photographs 
 of the city of Mosul and also some of the works at Nem- 
 rud. This was an excellent opportunity for the Count to 
 proceed with his plan. He thought again of the miracles. 
 In the meantime, while examining the album, he remark 
 ed that these photographs would undoubtedly interest 
 Yonan, for they represented well known localities to him, 
 and suggested that Yonan should come into the parlor to 
 see them. Hearing this Miss Virginia jumped like a 
 child to call the Chaldean, who was seated on the porch. 
 
 "Yonan," said Count Morat to the entering Chaldean, 
 "take this album and see whether you can find in it any 
 thing familiar to you." This he said in English. 
 
 Then turning to Miss Virginia he continued : 
 
 "Have you ever heard the Chaldean language spoken. 
 Miss Virginia?" 
 
 "No," answered she. "I never heard it. but I under 
 stand you frequently use that language in conversing 
 with Mr. Yonan. do you?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," replied Count Morat. "I often con 
 verse with Yonan in his language, and in order that you 
 may hear it, I shall speak to him now." 
 
 Then he turned to the Chaldean and said to him in his 
 language to look at the picture hanging on the wall be 
 hind the piano and see whether he ever had seen its orig 
 inal, adding, should he have to say anything about it, he 
 should do so at a more convenient time, meaning when 
 they were alone. In the meantime, Count Morat directed 
 all his attention to scrutinously watching his man. When 
 Yonan looked at the picture, his eyes grew larger, and in
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 a few seconds his face was a picture of great surprise. 
 It was an expression of a man who has found something 
 of great value to him in a way that surprised him beyond 
 expectation. Forgetting for the moment the order of his 
 master, he began to speak with agitation, but the Count 
 looked at him severely, and that brought him to silence. 
 After this occurrence, Count Morat felt perfectly satisfied 
 with the result of his experiment, and although he had 
 heard nothing of what Yonan intended to say, he was 
 certain that the Chaldean had recognized the picture. 
 
 Miss Virginia, listening to the strange guttural sounds 
 of a language she had never heard before, paid little at 
 tention to the peculiar movements of the Chaldean. She 
 saw him looking at the picture of her father, but she 
 never thought this was done at the command of the Count. 
 
 "It does not sound very musical," said Miss Virginia, 
 smiling. "It is rather harsh to our ears, this Chaldean 
 language." 
 
 "Nevertheless, very useful," answered the Count, 
 laughing heartily. This he said as though to give ex 
 pression to the valuable experiment he was conducting. 
 The case was, that he was very anxious to bring Yonan 
 into the parlor and let him look at the picture represent 
 ing Mr. Gladston. But he could not think of any way 
 to accomplish this without exposing his scheme to Yonan, 
 whose ignorance of the plan conceived was the very neces 
 sary condition for the experiment. Now that success 
 was the evident result, his attention was directed to the 
 other half of his plan, which was that Miss Virginia 
 should not be acquainted with this important fact, until 
 the proper time had come. This was easily done, thanks 
 to the use of the Chaldean language. Thus, having ac- 
 
 220
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 complished his purpose, Count Morat devoted the rest 
 of the afternoon to conversation with Miss Virginia on 
 the archaeological achievements of Nemrud fame. 
 
 Having returned to his residence, Count Morat, enter 
 ing his library, said to Yonan : 
 
 "Now is the time to speak. Now you can tell me what 
 you wanted to say while in the parlor at Miss Virginia s 
 house." 
 
 Yonan did not wait to be told again. 
 
 "Master," he said, with the tone of a man whose cer 
 tainty stands above all doubts, "the picture I saw in the 
 parlor is the exact picture of the Englishman I saw in 
 Orfa. He is the man, O Master, he is the man, who car 
 ried away our princess, and the princess, as I told you, 
 is " 
 
 "Don t be hasty in your conclusions," interrupted the 
 Count. "You had better tell me, if you can, what makes 
 you so sure of your statement? This happened so long 
 ago--" 
 
 "Master," replied Yonan, "it is true this happened 
 twenty-four years ago, but, O Lord! even if it were a 
 hundred years ago I could never forget the face of the 
 man who took the little darling away from my arms. O 
 Master ! the whole case is clear to me. Both the princess 
 and the man who took her away are in that house on 
 Adams street." 
 
 "Unfortunately," said Count Morat sadly, "the man 
 whom that picture represents died long ago. But, if our 
 suppositions are correct, we have enough evidence to con 
 clude that we have found what we were looking for all 
 these long and tedious years. However, before I do any 
 thing more, I want you, Yonan, to look at that picture 
 
 221
 
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 again, whenever you have an opportunity without attract 
 ing attention, and ascertain whether you are not mis 
 taken in asserting that this is the man you saw in Orfa. 
 Now leave me." 
 
 Count Morat felt intoxicated with joy. If all the evi 
 dence now on hand were true, certainly the problem was 
 solved without the slightest doubt. Then he began to re 
 view this evidence. What was it? "First, the striking 
 resemblance of Miss Virginia to my brother, which is un 
 doubtedly very remarkable," he thought. "Second, the 
 age of the girl corresponding to the time elapsed since 
 my brother s death. Third, the time of Mr. Gladston s 
 return from Mesopotamia, coinciding with that of the 
 death of my brother, and the disappearance of his child. 
 Fourth, the birth-mark, which is quite an unmistakable 
 indicator of the identity of the lost child. Fifth, the ad 
 mission that Miss Virginia was born about that time and 
 in that country; and finally, Sixth, the positiveness of 
 Yonan that Mr. Gladston s picture represents the man 
 who took the child. Now the question arises," he went 
 on thinking, "whether, notwithstanding all this evidence, 
 I am not mistaken. A little inaccuracy in the given dates 
 and names is apt to change the whole situation. Here 
 is one instance ; how to explain the duality of Mr. Glad 
 ston s person? There is one who has a child, and the 
 other has not. Leaving the city of Mosul, one Gladston 
 goes to the north, and the other to the west. Does not 
 this conclusively show that no matter how strong the case 
 might seem in favor of my interpretation of the events, 
 it would be folly to assert that I am absolutely correct in 
 my conclusions? After all, perhaps time, the greatest 
 factor in the readjustment of all things, might possibly 
 
 222
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 throw the necessary light on the subject. Until then," 
 he concluded, "I must wait patiently. If I am on the 
 right track, it won t be long before the denouement will 
 follow." 
 
 Here Count Morat, following the oriental custom, clap 
 ped his hands, and when Yonan appeared, ordered a pipe. 
 It was a necessity for him to smoke when he was think 
 ing. This is invariably the case with all thinkers who 
 are smokers. Having drawn a couple of puffs from his 
 aromatic kalyon, Count Morat fell to musing. "O what 
 a complicated problem," he thought. "Were I a believer 
 in the doctrine of heredity, such as taught by some of our 
 contemporaries, how little would I have to hesitate in 
 reaching my conclusions. But unfortunately this theory 
 indicates nothing but the short-sightedness of those who 
 believe in it. Be heredity a natural law, it would neces 
 sarily remain as firm, as uniform, as the rest of the laws 
 governing our little horizon, that we know. A natural 
 law is an established order subservient to its causes, and 
 as such has that peculiar characteristic of stability, which 
 absolutely excludes all that might indicate mutability. 
 This we observe in laws known to us in physics, chemis 
 try and in all other branches of natural science ; but that 
 is not the case with the so-called heredity, especially when 
 by this is meant the transmission of parental moral char 
 acteristics to children. Were such a heredity a law, all 
 the children of a thief necessarily would be thieves, which 
 is not so. We have a mass of evidence in the fact, that 
 many men born of disreputable parents have become men 
 of international fame, with highly developed senses of 
 good, justice and beauty as the highest ideals of man 
 kind. While on the other hand we have men of the low- 
 
 223
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 est tendencies, born of the most respectable parents. It 
 is well known to the world that the greatest thieves, who 
 stole not by the thousand, but by the millions, who ruined 
 countries and whole kingdoms, were children of honest, 
 law-abiding people. As a rule, men for high positions 
 in communities are selected amongst those of good par 
 entage and established family reputations, and singularly 
 enough, it is amongst those that we find the greatest ras 
 cals, greatest prevaricators. A great number of pervert 
 ed natures we find amongst the children of good parent 
 age; and again, in a family of an intelligent couple, a 
 stupid, an idiot is born, while from amongst the lowest 
 classes intellectually, have men risen to statesmanship of 
 great merit. Were heredity a law, how could such a 
 monstrosity take place in the bosom of nature? Because 
 diseased parents produce sickly children, it does not fol 
 low that moral perversities unfolded in them are subject 
 to the same ruling which governs the physical only. Be 
 sides, the admission of heredity as a law, contradicts the 
 main construction of causality which is actuated by the 
 individual merits, and not by those of parents. Thus fol 
 lowing this order of things, I am forced to conclude that 
 an evidence based upon a resemblance actually does not 
 mean anything. We hear very often of doubles, which 
 means, that there are men and women entirely strangers 
 one to another as far as family ties go, yet resembling 
 each other to such an extent, that oftentimes one is taken 
 for the other. A resemblance no matter how perfect 
 does not always indicate that it owes its origin to family 
 ties. We may reason as we please, but the fact remains 
 that heredity cannot be classed in the set of laws gov 
 erning human beings. The word heredity, like the word 
 
 224
 
 ON THE WAY TO DISCOVERY. 
 
 chance, covers an unknown ground to the masses, as well 
 as to scientists who are not capable of, going beyond the 
 limits of gross matter. As long as the real causes re 
 main unknown, the heredity will go on playing its role 
 of an unknown quantity." 
 
 "Master," said Yonan, entering the room, "you wished 
 me to remind you that the reunion takes place tonight at 
 Mr. Milton s house." 
 
 "O yes; very well, then; I am going. Have the car 
 riage at seven-thirty for half an hour s ride, and then we 
 will drive to Mr. Milton s house." 
 
 225
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 "When I tell you, there is no use of arguing with a 
 lawyer, especially when you are not a lawyer yourself, I 
 know what I am talking about," declared Mr. Irving, 
 addressing Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 "Why, is it because this subject does not interest you ?" 
 inquired the doctor. 
 
 "No, no, by jingo, it is not that," exclaimed Mr. Ir 
 ving. "Don t you catch the point? When a lawver 
 means to defend his case, he will do so, no matter what 
 happens to the rest of the world, don t you see?" 
 
 "Well, that is the only proper thing to do for a lawyer 
 who honestly believes in his case," remarked Dr. Darling. 
 "But, of course there are always two sides in every case. 
 Before you can come to some definite conclusion in re 
 gard to a given case, you must hear the other side too." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Mr. Milton, "when I was asked to 
 state my opinion in the case, I did so, adding, that this 
 was not only my opinion, but my strong conviction as 
 well " 
 
 226
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 "That the girl who committed the forgery was as in 
 nocent as a newly born child," ended Dr. Ihringier, sar 
 castically. 
 
 "Yes, innocent as far as it goes for the committed act," 
 affirmed Mr. Milton. 
 
 "There you are, did not I tell you? But what is the 
 use?" shouted Mr. Irving, looking for an ash tray for 
 his cigar. 
 
 "This sounds pretty good for the accused girl," joined 
 Dr. Darling. "But, in order to make us believe the way 
 he does he ought to explain his ground." 
 
 "You give him a chance, and he will explain it to you, 
 I am sure," said the firm voice of Count Morat, entering 
 the room. 
 
 "By Jove ! We have been waiting for you, Count," 
 cried Mr. Irving, gaily. Now we are complete. How 
 do you do, Count?" 
 
 The above animated conversation took place in the 
 parlor of Mr. Milton s house. It was one of their regu 
 lar meetings that this time was held there. 
 
 "Where is Mrs. Milton?" inquired Count Morat, shak 
 ing hands with Mr. Milton. 
 
 "She is not well," answered Mr. Milton, offering him 
 a chair ; "owing to a little indisposition, she has been con 
 fined to her room all day. I am sorry she cannot be 
 with us tonight." 
 
 "I hope nothing serious," remarked the Count, taking 
 the offered chair; then turning to those in the room, he 
 said : 
 
 "Don t let me interrupt you. What is it you are so 
 vigorously debating about? Anything interesting?" 
 
 "Very interesting," answered Dr. Ihringier. "We are 
 
 227
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 discussing a case which some time ago the court confided 
 to Mr. Milton. It is a case of forgery committed by a 
 young girl, whom Mr. Milton defends " 
 
 "And of course he says," interrupted Mr. Irving, "that 
 the girl is innocent " 
 
 "As a newly born child," ended the doctor. 
 
 "That does not seem credible, after the saying that the 
 forgery was committed, does it?" inquired Dr. Darling. 
 
 "The saying that the forgery was committed, does not 
 necessarily mean that it was committed by the accused," 
 said Count Morat thoughtfully. "It depends altogether 
 upon what you understand by the terms you are using." 
 
 "The terms are quite clear," answered Dr. Darling. 
 "The question now is, on what Mr. Milton bases his opin 
 ion, declaring his client innocent of the crime with which 
 she is charged." 
 
 "The basis I built my theory upon is, the lack of un 
 derstanding of the importance of the act committed by 
 the girl," answered Mr. Milton, with the imperturbable 
 air of a man who knows his case well. 
 
 "Unfortunately," remarked Dr. Darling, "such an ex 
 cuse has no standing in the face of existing laws." 
 
 "That is quite true, and this is why we need new laws 
 to regulate cases like this," said Mr. Milton. "For the 
 validity of a criminal act, especially when we deal with a 
 case like the one in question, an absolute spontaneity as 
 well as the explicit knowledge of the nature of the com 
 mitted act, should be required." 
 
 "My dear sir, there is no act committed unknowingly 
 and unwillingly, especially when such an act is against the 
 established laws and morals," emphatically declared Dr. 
 Darling. "Ignorance of the existing laws, or of the im- 
 
 228
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 portance of a given criminal act, is inexcusable, especial 
 ly when we consider that there are principles of morality 
 which God has imprinted in the hearts of men, and those 
 must be observed and obeyed. The infringement of these 
 laws justly calls for the imposition of penalty." 
 
 "The statement you make, my dear Dr. Darling, can 
 not bear analysis," answered Count Morat. "If, as you 
 say, there are principles of morality imprinted by God 
 in the hearts of men, and all men are created by God, it 
 necessarily would follow that those principles must be 
 the same all over the world; but this is not the case; for 
 we know what is considered moral in one country or place, 
 is known as immoral in another. Polygamy was consider 
 ed by the Jews not only moral, but a highly commendable 
 institution, which originated by God-chosen men. Mo 
 hammedans practice it today, and even some Christians, 
 like Mormons, have it in the tenet of their religion. 
 While we, having a contrary conception of it, when we 
 find a man who has more than one wife we are not 
 speaking now of concubines we send him to the peni 
 tentiary. In our understanding, when a woman marries 
 a man, she becomes his wife and only his alone. Should 
 she permit any undue relations with another man, she is 
 pointed out as an immoral woman, and consequently a 
 law suit against her is established for divorce. While 
 in a big country like Thibet, in Asia, when a woman mar 
 ries a man, she becomes not only his wife, but also the 
 wife of all his brothers. Should she refuse to practice 
 polyandry, she would be considered highly immoral, and 
 as such would become an object of contempt to the mul 
 titude. To kill a man, is a perfectly abominable act, for 
 which our tribunals of justice will send to the electric 
 
 229
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 chair any man who commits such an offence. But if you 
 would go to live amongst Kurds and Christian mountain 
 eers of Asiatic Turkey, you would learn, as I did, that to 
 kill a man does not mean anything wrong; on the con 
 trary, it is considered by those people as a very commend 
 able act. I have been many a time a witness at the 
 gathering of those people, who tell their story of killing 
 men as an act of great heroism and distinction. The man 
 who killed the most, is the greatest hero, and as such be 
 comes an idol to the fair sex of his race. We have some 
 thing analogous amongst the civilized nations. It is 
 called by the fashionable name of duel. One kills another 
 to save his honor. In other words, to establish his honor, 
 he must kill his adversary. Ordinarily this honorary 
 killing is committed by men of high social standing and 
 culture, in most cases the cause of it being a smile of a 
 frivolous woman. But, of course this goes, because it 
 is fashionable. These and many other similar illustra 
 tions show that, what you call moral principles, are not 
 the same everywhere, and much less are they principles 
 imprinted in the hearts of men as you are pleased to 
 assert." 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Dr. Darling, "you deny the fact 
 that moral principles are of divine origin? If so, how 
 do you account for the existence of these principles, 
 which constitute the only safeguard of our welfare?" 
 
 "The accounting is very simple," replied Count Morat. 
 "Conceptions of good and evil are entirely human, as hu 
 man as all the rest we find in man, and as such they have 
 been originated by the necessities of human life, their 
 development being subjected entirely to the development 
 of human intellect. The more refined you are the higher 
 
 230
 
 THEOLDMANPLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 is the standard of your ideals. Upon this fact rest the 
 differences we find amongst nations and individuals in 
 regard to the conception they have of good and evil, and 
 upon this basis nations enact laws and regulations to 
 govern their countries." 
 
 "There is no doubt that this is the case," remarked 
 Mr. Milton. "The civil laws which are to define good 
 and evil, have been constantly subject to this evolution 
 of human intellect. The laws by which the most ad 
 vanced nations have been governed in the ages past, have 
 been radically modified or altogether abandoned in order 
 to meet the new requirements of continually advancing 
 humanity. Conceptions of beauty, refinement, goodness, 
 duties and justice of today are as day to night when com 
 pared with those in the past. Here I have a very curious 
 fact which fairly well illustrates the evolution in concep 
 tions. In Bailey s English dictionary, printed in London 
 in 1740, a very scarce book, I read the following: 
 
 " Free Bench, the custom of the Manors of East and 
 West Embourn, Chadleworth in the County of Berks, 
 Tor in Devonshire, and other places of the West, that if 
 a customary Tenant die, the Widow shall have her Free- 
 Bench in all his Copyhold Land. Dnm Sola ct casta 
 fuerit. (As long as she remains alone and chaste,) but, 
 if she commit Incontinency, she forfeits her Estate; yet 
 if she will come into the Court, riding backwards on a 
 black Ram, with his Tail in her Hand, and say the words 
 following, the Steward is bound by the Custom to re 
 admit her to her Free-Bench. 
 
 Here I am, 
 
 Riding upon a black Ram, 
 
 Like a as I am; 
 
 231
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 And for my Crincum Crancum, 
 Have lost my Bincum Bancum; 
 
 And for my Game, 
 
 Have done this worldly Shame; 
 Therefore, I pray you, Mr. Steward, let me have 
 my land again. (*) 
 
 "How does this sound? This was practiced in the 
 days when the English public was reading Shakespeare s 
 writings. Would anyone today permit such a practice 
 as that? Certainly not. In connection with this there 
 comes to my mind an episode in the history of our own 
 country, which shows that what was good in the past 
 does not necessarily remain such forever, for it would 
 be against the law of evolution in conceptions. A com 
 pany of Boston colonists founded a new city and called 
 it New Haven. They needed a constitution by which 
 this new organization could be governed. Accordingly, 
 in 1639, tne settlers held a convention and solemnly and 
 unanimously adopted the old Jewish book, the Bible, as 
 a constitution of the newly created State! The govern 
 ment was called the House of Wisdom, and seven of 
 the leading men were called Seven Pillars. Theophilus 
 Eaton, first and greatest of the Pillars, was chosen gov 
 ernor for twenty years consecutively. But, to the great 
 annoyance of the colonists they found out that the Bible 
 could not regulate the advanced life of new Americans 
 and consequently they were forced by necessity to formu 
 late a new constitution, which now governs the glorious 
 State of Connecticut. This was nearly three hundred 
 years ago; but less than one hundred years ago in most 
 
 (*) The two omitted words are too offensive to be printed 
 here. 
 
 232
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 of the European countries they used to imprison those 
 unfortunate persons who were not able to pay their debts. 
 Our charming- State of Georgia owes its origin to this 
 barbarism, for by a charter dated June 9th, 1732, that 
 State was organized for the protection of those exiled 
 from English prisons, where they had been imprisoned 
 for not paying their debts, and the State thus organized 
 assumed its name from the grantor, George of England. 
 From these and thousands of other instances we see that 
 conceptions of good and evil have been constantly chang 
 ing with the progress our race has been making. The 
 old Latin classics used to say : Times are changing and 
 men with them, but it would be far truer to say, Our 
 conceptions are changing and times with them. 
 
 "That is all well," said Mr. Irving, wisely. "But now 
 let me ask you a question, why are our conceptions 
 changing?" 
 
 "Simply because we are growing," was the answer. 
 
 "That does not explain anything," remarked Dr. 
 Ihringier. "We are growing for a few years, then comes 
 death, and that is the end of our growth. New people 
 come, they grow, and they follow us in oblivion. Does 
 this teach anything?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," answered Count Morat. "It teaches us 
 a great deal. When you say new people come, you cer 
 tainly mean that those new comers, are new comers, in 
 other words that they are the first time on our earth, for 
 getful of the most empirical truth that there is nothing 
 new coming in our world. Besides, if every new genera 
 tion presented a new set of people for the first time on 
 this planet, each of those generations would necessarily 
 have to pass through the experiences of primitive man.
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 But this is not the case. Every new generation, as we 
 know well, is decidedly a great improvement upon the 
 preceding one. The generation before us was much more 
 advanced than the generation before it. We today are 
 more advanced than any generation before us. The one 
 coming after us will be still more advanced, and so on 
 for millions of years to come. This shows that there is 
 no new generation coming." 
 
 "Do you mean to say, Count, that the present genera 
 tion is the same which was before?" inquired Dr. Dar 
 ling, somewhat astounded. 
 
 "Exactly," replied Count Morat. "There is nothing 
 new on our planet. All there is, has been, and will be." 
 
 "Why, this is metempsychosis or transmigration of 
 souls, if you please," exclaimed Dr. Darling. "Do you 
 really believe in what you say?" 
 
 "Most assuredly," replied the Count. "Not only I be 
 lieve, but this is my firm conviction. No intelligent man 
 who can rationally reason can help seeing the actual truth 
 in this order of things." 
 
 "What order of things? Do you mean to say that I 
 have been here before?" asked Mr. Irving, somewhat hes 
 itatingly. 
 
 "And how many times, no one can tell," was the reply. 
 "Were you to be here for the first time, you would be in 
 a form entirely forgotten by our race. For during the 
 three hundred thousand years of the evolution of man, 
 many primitive forms have disappeared long ago, the 
 most recent of them being the anthropoid ape, the man 
 before the bushman of Africa." 
 
 "This is certainly a mixture of modern evolution with 
 
 234
 
 THEOLDMANPLATOKNEWITWELL. 
 
 the old conception of the transmigration of souls," re 
 marked Dr. Darling. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, it is the old knowledge of the re-embodi 
 ment of souls," resumed Count Morat, greatly amused 
 with the astonishment of his friend the theologian. "In 
 fact many thousand years older than the Christian re 
 ligion, and well known to Greeks during the days when 
 they were leaders in civilization. The old man Plato 
 knew it well. He used to discuss it with his friends the 
 way we are doing now. But, after all, you may give it 
 any name you please, that will not change the situation. 
 Either we have to accept science as a source of knowl 
 edge, or reject it as a superstition like those belonging 
 to past ages and now forgotten." 
 
 "But, pardon me," interrupted Dr. Ihringier, "science 
 does not know anything about this order of things. Don t 
 make science your scapegoat, for science is the highest 
 expression of the best of human experiences, and as such 
 cannot be suspected of teaching things which it does not 
 know." 
 
 "O how inconsistent you are, my dear friend," re 
 marked Count Morat. "Does not science affirm that 
 there is no new matter coming on our globe?" 
 
 "Yes, it does; what of it?" asked the Doctor. 
 
 "If it does affirm that there is no new matter coming, 
 how do you make up your new man?" inquired Count 
 Morat. 
 
 "The newly born man is made up of the old atoms, of 
 course," said the physician, caught in his own trap. "But 
 you are telling Mr. Irving that he has been here before ; 
 how can that be?" 
 
 235
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "Why, if his body is made up of old atoms, does not 
 that indicate that he has been here before?" 
 
 "As atoms, yes, but not as a body of Mr. Irving," 
 suggested the Doctor. 
 
 "But why do you attach such a particular meaning to 
 the body of Mr. Irving. Do you think he is anything 
 different from other men ?" asked Count Morat. 
 
 "Why certainly," stated Dr. Ihringier, "he is different 
 from other men as much as we are. Each one of us is 
 unique for himself. This is evident from the fact that 
 each man has his peculiar personality which differs from 
 others." 
 
 "O how delightfully well you are approaching the 
 point," resumed Count Morat, laughing heartily. "It is 
 due to your knowledge of science that you are advancing 
 so wonderfully well. When I alluded to the fact that Mr. 
 Irving was here before, I meant what I said, namely, 
 that which makes Mr. Irving what he is, and not his 
 physical body as he has it now; that is to say his im 
 mortal soul, which is the maker of his personality. On 
 the subject of the human soul, we have had a long discus 
 sion before, so I will not repeat it. It remains to be 
 added however, that the soul of each of us repeatedly 
 takes a physical body, and this implies that Mr. Irving s 
 soul, mine, yours, and everybody else s, has been here 
 before, and after this life will come again and again, 
 until it outgrows the earthly attractions which regulate 
 its continuous embodiments." 
 
 "And you claim this teaching based upon science?" 
 asked Dr. Ihringier. 
 
 "Certainly," replied Count Morat. "Were I not able 
 to demonstrate this scientifically to my own satisfaction, 
 
 236
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 I could not accept it. To me it is as clear as the simplest 
 mathematical rule to you. We know we exist, and many 
 of us know that we have existed before." 
 
 "On this earth, as an entity, a human being?" inquired 
 Dr. Ihringier again. 
 
 "Why, a human being, certainly," said the Count. 
 "You could not think for a moment that you could be 
 anything but human, for such an alternative would mean 
 deterioration, and that is decidedly against the tenden 
 cies of all natural laws. Ovid s metamorphosis is an 
 Utopian fancy." 
 
 "Then, according to that, if I have been here before 
 why do I not remember anything about it?" asked the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "Simply because you have not grown yet to that stage 
 of spiritual development which enables man to remember 
 his past lives," replied Count Morat. "But there are 
 others who do. They remember several lives very dis 
 tinctly. Of these you don t hear much, because it is not 
 in fashion to speak about it. Besides, human memory is 
 always conditional with the acuteness of the interest one 
 takes in his surroundings. You may see thousands of 
 things in one hour and forget them in the next. This 
 usually happens when you are not interested in the things 
 you see. And again you remember things in your child 
 hood by which you were impressed more forcibly than 
 with other things. This impression is caused by the 
 awakening of your interest in those particular things. 
 But even those impressions, no matter how strong they 
 may appear to be, you forget gradually as you grow. 
 This happens in this our short life. Is it any wonder 
 that a man of an average development does not remem- 
 
 237
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 her his past lives? Again, when you consider that each 
 new life is an improvement upon the previous one, you 
 can see for yourself there is no reason why one should 
 remember it." 
 
 "In that case, what is the use of these repetitions of 
 lives?" asked Dr. Darling, becoming quite interested in 
 the subject. 
 
 "But why do you think that the remembrance of past 
 lives should constitute such an important item? You 
 have worn many shirts. Do you remember all the 
 shirts you have used in your life?" inquired Count 
 Morat. 
 
 "No. I do not remember all my old shirts," replied 
 Dr. Darling. "But I remember certain facts about 
 them, and that I utilize whenever necessity occurs. For 
 instance: I never buy a night shirt with a collar. This 
 I do simply because formerly when I used to wear those 
 with collars, I always experienced an excessive heat 
 around my neck, and this is why I decided not to have 
 any more of them." 
 
 "O what a splendid illustration !" exclaimed Count 
 Morat, joyously. "I could not find anything better. 
 But before I will utilize it let me ask you one more ques 
 tion. When you go now to buy a collarless shirt, do 
 you think of your experiences with those with collars? 
 In other words, when you stand before a counter in a 
 store, where you order your shirt, does it occur to you to 
 think, that because formerly the collar of your shirt 
 caused an excessive heat around your neck, you will now 
 buy one without a collar? Does ever such a formula 
 pass through your head?" 
 
 "Oh, no," answered Dr. Darling. When I do my
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 purchasing now, I do not think of my past experiences 
 at all. I simply buy the thing I want." 
 
 "That is it," resumed Count Morat. "As clumsy as 
 the given illustration is, it represents the exact picture 
 of the experiences we have acquired in our past lives. 
 We do certain things, which oftentimes differ very 
 much from the doings of others, without knowing why 
 we do so. But considering that we act always according 
 to a certain knowledge within us, whether explicit or im 
 plicit, and that no knowledge can he acquired without 
 experience of some kind, it becomes evident that we must 
 have had experiences which formulated our determina 
 tion to act the way we do. When you were a boy, ac 
 cording to what I heard from you, you wanted to be a 
 minister of the gospel, a priest of your church, without 
 knowing why you wanted so. You had opportunities to 
 be a merchant, a mechanic ; but you chose to be a 
 priest. You knew you wanted to be a priest, but you 
 don t know perhaps even now, why." 
 
 "Yes, I do," answered Dr. Darling, trying to recollect 
 impressions of his younger days. "I wanted to be a 
 priest, because in my boyhood I was raised in an atmos 
 phere which was permeated with churchly life. I liked 
 the church as a structure and as an institution, and I ad 
 mired its ceremonials very much. I liked to see our rec 
 tor with his tall and imposing figure in his black cas 
 sock. I loved to look at the snow-white surplices worn 
 by those within the sanctuary. I knew that it was a good 
 thing to be priest, and this is why I became one." 
 
 "Is it not remarkable that even a theologian should 
 not know the fundamental laws of causation !" remarked 
 Count Morat, as though speaking to himself. Then 
 
 239
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 turning to his interlocutor, he continued : "If you will 
 look closely into the matter, you will easily discover that 
 what you thought attracted you, was not the real cause 
 of your becoming a priest, for, while you were attending 
 the church and admiring its ceremonials, you used to see 
 and like other things as well. You spent more days in 
 your father s store, than hours in your church. Oftener 
 you went to the carriage factory of your uncle than to 
 your parish church. You liked the store and the factory 
 very well. Yet, you did not become either a merchant 
 like your father, nor a mechanic like your uncle. Here 
 it another illustration: Our friend and host, Mr. Mil 
 ton, had a father who was a banker. A successful bank 
 er s life ought to be a great attraction; yet, this son of 
 his did not follow his occupation. Here we have him, 
 busying himself with other people s troubles and reading 
 law. Mr. Milton s father in his turn, had an experience 
 which was peculiarly his own. He was a physician with 
 quite a practice in his native city of New York. He 
 left the yEsculapian dignity for the life of a financier, a 
 banker, if you please. When we ask why in each of 
 these instances, invariably we hear a because similar to 
 the one advanced by our friend Dr. Darling, and which 
 really does not explain anything. It is evident that peo 
 pie at large, and professionals as well, are utterly ignor 
 ant of the great and all-powerful law of causality. 
 There is no effect without a cause, and this cause is as 
 powerful as the following effect. It operates through 
 ages and ages. Ex nihilo nihil fit; out of nothing, noth 
 ing comes, and we are not dealing with nothings ; we 
 are dealing with facts, and only facts. You cannot have 
 your last brick on the top of a building ten stories high, 
 
 240
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 unless you have a series of bricks beginning at the bot 
 tom, from the foundation on the solid ground. You 
 could not be a priest today had you not reached that 
 stage of development which enabled you to see the 
 beauty of the priesthood, and made you choose it for 
 your career. It necessarily follows that in order to 
 reach that stage, you must have had experiences upon 
 experiences. When you consider the shortness of your 
 present life, you are forced to look backward into the 
 ages past during which you have been continually grow 
 ing. This growth in experiences is the only power 
 formulating your desires, and which eventually brought 
 you to your present stage. The same thing must be 
 said of every one of us, in each case. Mr. Milton could 
 not be a lawyer, Mr. Ihringier a physician, Mr. Irving a 
 metallurgist, without a certain particular cause in each 
 case which attracted them to the practice of the chosen 
 profession. In the case of Mr. Milton, the banker, we 
 have an illustration of a farmer who for the first time 
 tries to plough his land with a machine operated by 
 steam. It being his first experience, the machine now 
 and then requiring a certain adjustment, which consumes 
 much of his time, he comes to the conclusion that he can 
 do much better with his old oxen, and still older wooden 
 plough, and starts his operation, with which he is famil 
 iar, and achieves greater success. Eventually he will 
 try the machine again, but not until he is thoroughly 
 familiar with it will he abandon his old style of cultiva 
 tion. You cannot be attracted by a thing which you do 
 not know. This knowledge comes only through the ex 
 periences, which consume ages and ages, and which be 
 come a giant factor in the workings of the powerful law 
 
 241
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 of causation. The illustration of the girl who com 
 mitted forgery is another instance in this case. She is 
 known in all respects, as a very exemplary girl. Sud 
 denly she becomes a criminal. When she is examined 
 she displays genuine innocence. She does not realize 
 the importance of the committed forgery; in fact, the 
 committed act, as well as the time when she committed 
 the forgery, are to her entirely blank. She is a study 
 which cannot be solved without the application of this 
 great law of causation. Because we do not know its work 
 ings, the case baffles us. Evidently what one cannot learn 
 by example, one must learn by personal experience. No 
 matter how we handle the case we must face the great 
 law of causation. (*) This law is the inexorable 
 ruler of our destiny, and through its workings unmistak 
 ably indicates that we are following the great river of 
 life, which, as it goes, grows in volume and power un 
 til finally it reaches its goal the great ocean of knowl 
 edge." 
 
 "I am afraid," said Dr. Ihringier, "you are clothing 
 our insignificant lives with much of what is called mysti 
 cism." 
 
 "No danger," answered Count Morat. "You cannot 
 clothe a thing with nothing, if that is meant by your 
 mysticism. On the other hand, mysticism, meaning an 
 unknown realm to us, is a thing which we cannot avoid, 
 for it follows us as we grow. We are dealing with it 
 continually. Unless you make a special study of the 
 vibratory theory, the telephone, graphophone and the like 
 
 (*) The girl in question, after two years of probation, once 
 more committed forgery. She remains a mystery to the au 
 thorities. 
 
 242
 
 THEOLDMANPLATOKNEWITWELL. 
 
 inventions, will remain for you a mystery. The same 
 thing occurs in our study of man, and the laws govern 
 ing him. But, as in other branches of science, we ought 
 not to stop when we encounter the imperturbable un 
 known. We must advance, always guided by those nat 
 ural laws which are at our disposal, for one will lead us 
 to another, thus helping us to achieve the only aim of 
 our lives. This being an imperative law, we advance 
 whether conscious or unconscious of the fact. Dr. 
 Darling of today is not the same of a year ago, much less 
 the one of five or more years ago. So are his concep 
 tions. Accordingly, new requirements will arise as he 
 goes by, and those he will have to meet whether he 
 wishes or not." 
 
 "However, before he does so, let me ask you another 
 question," said Mr. Irving. "To tell the truth, I do not 
 understand clearly enough your theory, Count; you 
 know I must have it in a nutshell. Will you tell me in 
 the simplest way you can, what do you mean by all you 
 have said?" 
 
 "I mean simply this," replied Count Morat. "Man, 
 like all other things, does not come into existence by a 
 special creation, for he has been existing for at least 
 three hundred thousand years on this planet. That man 
 is composed of a soul and a physical body, we know. 
 What hippens with the physical body we also know. 
 But when we come to the laws governing the soul after 
 so-called death, it seems opinions are divided. Those 
 who base their views upon the latest theories, (religious 
 views) wish to banish departed souls to some regions 
 out of this earthly sphere, forgetful of the fact that the 
 law of attraction which keeps our little planet together 
 
 243
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 is much stronger than their wishes. The human soul, 
 which is a growing thing and an indivisible entity, be 
 ing unconditionally subject to the all-powerful law of 
 progression, which is its sole aim, is forced to effect its 
 growth through the process of re-embodiment, regulated 
 by the law of causality. Every new embodiment is a 
 step forward. There is nothing lost of the past lives, 
 not a single thought, not a single word. Experiences of 
 past lives make you, me, and all others, what we are; for 
 as the old saying goes : Our deeds follow us from afar ; 
 what we were, makes us what we are. This is in a nut 
 shell the whole picture of the existing reality, the knowl 
 edge of which is based on careful observations." 
 
 "I understand it now," remarked Mr. Irving, adjust 
 ing his watch chain hanging below his vest pocket. 
 "But, when I compare this with what Dr. Darling was 
 preaching last Sunday, I do not know which I have to 
 believe." 
 
 "You will believe whichever appeals to your senses 
 better and stronger," replied Count Morat. "For your 
 aptitude in believing is absolutely conditional with your 
 mental development. If you think Dr. Darling s theory 
 is the best, believe in it and follow it. If you think his 
 theory too old fashioned, put your brain into working 
 provided you have one and pave your own path the 
 best you can. But remember this, that you cannot place 
 six bushels of apples in a basket which can hold only 
 three. A space of two by three inches in a wall can only 
 be filled with a brick of the same dimensions. You can 
 not tax a wagon with a heavier load than it can stand, 
 for it will break down and cause you more trouble than 
 you ever expected, and will retard your journey. With 
 
 244
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 men, it is a matter of growth. Many people can agree 
 on many points, but not all the people on all the points ; 
 and this is only natural, for each one has to fill his place 
 in this great world of ours according to his capacity, 
 which is measured by the acquired experiences in the 
 past. A believer in a most nonsensical teaching, if he is 
 sincere, is not to be blamed. He does his best, and as 
 such often times is the most useful man in the commun 
 ity. Because Dr. Darling does not believe in my views, 
 he is not any worse in my opinion. He cannot help be 
 lieving in what he does. There are millions who claim 
 they believe in a certain creed, simply because they were 
 born of parents who professed that creed. The teach 
 ings included in the views advanced by me, were, and 
 still continue to be, professed by great philosophers. 
 They require thinking and a logical one to be understood. 
 One cannot see their beauty unless he is able to under 
 stand them. Now, coming to your question, Mr. Irving, 
 I say again if you believe in Dr. Darling s theory 
 
 "Pardon me," interrupted Dr. Darling, "but the teach 
 ing I am preaching is not my theory. It is the teaching 
 of the Holy Catholic church. I am in my character of a 
 priest, simply as an interpreter of the teachings which 
 came to us from above. These teachings are not human 
 inventions; they came to us by revelations." 
 
 "O those wonderful revelations!" remarked Mr. Mil 
 ton. "Let me tell you a little story that will tell its own 
 tale. Ours is a glorious country, indeed, because it is a 
 country for the people and by the people. As such, it has 
 a form of government which, so far, has no equal. The 
 supposed best men of the whole country are sent to 
 Washington, D. C., as representatives of their respective 
 
 245
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 states, and constitute the great body of the American 
 Congress. These men probably with no exceptions are 
 believers in these same identical revelations, and for the 
 same identical reasons which you, Dr. Darling, are ad 
 vancing for your belief. However, there is in that body 
 a man who is one of the representatives of a state, which 
 was founded and grew under the special care of the peo 
 ple professing the Mormon faith. This man is an ex 
 cellent man. In fact, he is a much better man than 
 many from other states, for he takes good care of all his 
 wives. He raises his children, whether they number 
 twenty or forty-five. Just think what a precious citizen 
 he is, raising such a little colony to populate the vast ter 
 ritories of our empty middle and far west states. Be 
 cause this man is such a good man, the rest of the Con 
 gress do not like him. Some malicious politicians say 
 that this man is disliked simply because he enjoys the 
 love and esteem of seven pretty wives; because he has a 
 wife for every day of the week, and they have only one. 
 Is not this mortifying? A case of mere envy; yes, 
 envy; and to show their disapproval of him, they rebel 
 against his sitting in the Senate Chamber! Now this 
 honest upright man, whom we will call Mr. Jones, comes 
 before the Congress and says : Men of wisdom and vir 
 tue ! You follow the teachings of your religion, and you 
 say it is right. I follow the teachings of my religion, 
 and you say it is wrong. O men of Wisdom ! You were 
 chosen by the great people of this country to enact just 
 law r s, following the spirit of our noble constitution, which 
 in its first article of amendments, says : "Congress shall 
 make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or 
 prohibiting the free exercise thereof!" Contrary to the 
 
 246
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 tenet of our Magna Charta, you forbid the honest and 
 upright people known as the Latter Day Saints to follow 
 the dictation of their conscience. You believe in your 
 faith, because it was revealed to you by great and holy 
 men, prophets. We also believe in our faith for the same 
 reason, namely, because it was revealed to us through 
 our great prophet, Joseph Smith, and again re-revealed 
 to us, the apostles of the great church. O men of 
 wisdom ! I say unto ye honestly and truly, that I my 
 self saw the Almighty God. Yes, I saw him in the 
 holy vision which is granted only to us the apostles, and 
 heard his command, who saith unto me, "My son, get 
 married as often as you care." I followed this com 
 mand, and now ye men of wisdom, contrary to the spirit 
 of our glorious constitution, which in its fourth article 
 and third section says, "A T o religious test shall erer be 
 required as a qualification to any office or public trust 
 under the United States," I say, ye men of wisdom, you 
 blame me. You call me a liar, and you are throwing me 
 out of the Senate! O ye men of wisdom and virtue! Can 
 you overlook this act of yours contrary to the spirit of 
 our glorious constitution? Think, O men, think and be 
 penitent! That this is the substance of the just protest 
 of men representing a religion which belongs to this 
 country more than any other religion, for it was origi 
 nated here, and not imported as other religions are, I 
 hope you will not dispute. Now, Dr. Darling, if you 
 believe in the revelations handed down by the Jewish 
 prophets, why for the sake of the land don t you believe 
 in the revelations of an honest man who happens to be a 
 Mormon of Salt Lake City? You don t know what 
 kind of men those prophets of yours were; but you can 
 
 247
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 know the living Mormons. They are good men, for, as 
 we all know, they take good care of their families, no 
 matter how great is the number of their members, their 
 country and state they inhabit. The Jewish prophets 
 living more than two thousand years ago, in Asiatic 
 Turkey, said that they saw God, who told them to write 
 down his laws; this you believe. The American prophets 
 of the Mormon faith, living in your country and your 
 days, said also that they saw God, the God of Abraham, 
 Isaac and Jacob, who dictated to them the laws which 
 govern their church, polygamy being one of those laws; 
 this you don t believe. Is this justice? Why should the 
 prophets of your own country be considered less reliable 
 than foreigners? Where is your patriotism, your sense 
 of impartiality, your good and sound logic? Why the 
 revelations made by the Jewish prophets should be more 
 valuable to you than those made by our own prophets in 
 Utah, is a mystery to me." 
 
 "Well," said Dr. Darling, somewhat irritated, "you 
 don t expect that we should believe any and every crank 
 that comes around and tells us of his visions. Nowadays 
 we have a whole army of new religions. There are 
 Burning Bushes. Holy Jumpers, and all sorts of Kickers. 
 You don t call those religions, do you?" 
 
 "Why not?" said Mr. Milton. "Those religions are 
 as good as any, for they have the same construction as 
 yours. They have their revelations the same as you 
 have yours, and they expect to go to heaven, like you do. 
 leaving hell to those who do not belong to them." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Mr. Irving, who got tired of keep 
 ing silence. "You may say what you please, but I am 
 going to stay where I am. I was born under the English 
 
 248
 
 THE OLD MAN PLATO KNEW IT WELL. 
 
 flag, in Canada, where I was raised in the national 
 church of England. I will remain an Episcopalian, not 
 because I think that religion the best, nor because I know 
 it better than any other; in fact, I don t know much of 
 any religion, but simply because it is the religion of my 
 infancy. I go to hear Dr. Darling every Sunday, and 
 although I do not believe in all he says, because some 
 times he says things which are contrary to reason, I am 
 going to keep my seat in his church and listen to him. I 
 know lots of my friends who are in the same fix. We 
 like Dr. Darling, and that is why we go there." 
 
 "I like you for your frankness, Mr. Irving," said Mr. 
 Milton, gaily. "You can do as you please, but now can 
 I offer you a glass of ?" 
 
 "Why yes, certainly, of course; where is it?" inquired 
 Mr. Irving, looking around. 
 
 "This way, gentlemen," said Mr. Milton, conducting 
 his friends to the dining room, where they were served 
 with refreshments, after which the little company of 
 philosophers dispersed, each going to his home. 
 
 249
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 Several weeks elapsed since the day when Yonan 
 identified Mr. Gladston s picture as that of the man he 
 saw in Orfa. Since that he had many opportunities to 
 examine the picture time and again, and the more he saw 
 of it the stronger his conviction was that this was the 
 man who carried away the little Princess. The compli 
 cated problem of the existence of two Gladstons, which 
 originated from the fact that information received by 
 Count Morat in the city of Mosul, contradicted that in 
 the book published under the direction of Mr. Gladston, 
 seemed to weaken and vanish in the face of the certainty 
 with which Yonan repeatedly asserted that Mr. Glad 
 ston s picture represented the man whom he saw in Orfa. 
 Adding to this the evidences found on the person of Miss 
 Virginia, namely, the birthmark on her face, and her 
 vivid resemblance to the lost child, the mystery seemed 
 easily solved. Now the question arose, how to proceed 
 with the further development of the case. Meditating 1 
 upon this, Count Morat decided to make his story known 
 
 250
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 to Mrs. Pratt and Miss Virginia. There was one more 
 detail Count Morat wished to ascertain, but this seemed 
 next to impossible. It was the question whether Miss 
 Virginia had the other birthmark as well, of which 
 Yonan spoke. But, this being rather of a delicate na 
 ture, inasmuch as it required a bodily examination of 
 Miss Virginia, Count Morat abandoned the idea alto 
 gether. However, he was brought to a final decision by 
 another and strong factor, which was his own intuition. 
 Owing to this intuition, he had such a certitude that he 
 had found the lost child, that even if there were no cor 
 roborative evidence, he could not dismiss his belief. 
 This intuition began to assert its findings from the first 
 moment he saw Miss Virginia on the occasion of that 
 memorable reception night. The more he saw her, the 
 stronger his conviction was, that he was not mistaken in 
 the identity of the girl. But, no matter how strongly 
 he was urged by his intuition, he could not divulge his 
 case without such evidence as would convince Mrs. 
 Pratt and Miss Virginia. Now that he had on hand all 
 he thought necessary, he decided to put his design in ac 
 tion. Accordingly, on the evening of that same day he 
 made his appearance on Adams street. 
 
 Entering the parlor, Count Morat was greeted cor 
 dially by Miss Virginia and her aunt. Mr. Milton, who 
 at the express wish of the Count was there, shook his 
 hand, offering him a chair. After a few usual remarks, 
 Count Morat said : 
 
 "Miss Virginia, I have to tell you a very strange story 
 tonight." 
 
 "A strange story?" repeated Miss Virginia, laughing. 
 "I am not surprised. You have so many interesting 
 
 251
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 stories to tell, that I am always ready to hear something 
 unusual." 
 
 "But this time I will tell you something that will 
 really surprise you," said the Count. "Can you believe 
 me when I tell you that I have known of your father, 
 long before I came here?" 
 
 "Quite possible," remarked Miss Virginia. "My 
 father being a literary man, naturally might come to the 
 notice of the public." 
 
 "No," hastened the Count to reply. "This is not the 
 way I first learned about Mr. Gladston. It was during 
 the saddest moments of my life, that your family took, 
 so to speak, a part in a drama concerning my family, and 
 which for many years remained a mystery." 
 
 These few words, spoken in a calm way, acted as a 
 shock of electricity on the whole being of Miss Virginia. 
 "A mystery," she thought. "Has this anything to do 
 with the one connected with my life?" The contents of 
 that strange letter of her father came to her memory, and 
 as though by divination she expected to hear something 
 startling. 
 
 "Part of a drama," repeated Miss Virginia. "How 
 could our family in America take part in a drama enacted 
 in Europe?" 
 
 "In Asia," corrected Count Morat, "and that is just 
 what makes it more mysterious." 
 
 "This is becoming very interesting," remarked Mrs. 
 Pratt. "But, to tell the truth, I cannot understand how 
 that can be." 
 
 "Nor would I, if it were not for the facts, which speak 
 for themselves. When you hear my narrative you will 
 
 252
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 see that my statement is absolutely correct," answered 
 Count Morat. 
 
 The two ladies and Mr. Milton became now all atten 
 tion. 
 
 "The sad story of my family," resumed Count Morat, 
 "which I have secreted in my heart now for twenty-four 
 years, is too sacred to me to be told without special rea 
 sons. I shall not speak now about my ancestors, nor 
 will I touch upon the social standing of our family. I 
 will relate only that portion of the story which connects 
 me with the present situation. We were only two 
 brothers. Benedict was the older. In order to make my 
 story clear, I must state here, that for convenience sake, I 
 have been traveling under the name of Count Morat ; but 
 my real name is Lucian Muratt. I have simply sup 
 pressed one t and replaced o for V and Count for 
 Prince. This, as I said, I did simply for convenience 
 sake. This brother of mine was happily married. His 
 wife was an exceptionally charming lady. Benedict be 
 came interested in a scheme of a new railroad in Asiatic 
 Turkey, which was to connect Constantinople with the 
 central provinces, extending as far as Bagdad, going 
 across Mesopotamia, a country entirely unknown to the 
 civilized world ; at least it was when my story begins. 
 In brief, he took his young wife and the only child, a 
 sweet little girl scarcely five months old, and went to 
 travel through that savage country. His wife being a 
 lady of high attainment and much interested in all un 
 dertakings of her husband, insisted upon going with him, 
 for she would not listen to his going alone. Besides, she 
 loved to travel, especially through the countries where 
 primitive conditions of life prevailed. She took with 
 
 253
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 her, her faithful maid to take care of her baby girl. In 
 addition, they had with them this faithful servant of 
 mine, Yonan, whom you all know. At that time I was 
 temporarily stationed in Constantinople. Several weeks 
 after their departure, unexpectedly I received a telegram 
 from a city called Orfa, (*) located in the heart of 
 Mesopotamia, which is the name of the country between 
 the two great rivers, Tigris and Euphrates. This tele 
 gram apprised me of the sad situation my brother was in, 
 and requested my immediate presence. Both he and his 
 wife were stricken with Asiatic cholera, which about that 
 time was mercilessly raging in that country, and both 
 were in a helpless condition. I immediately sailed on 
 the first steamer I caught going to Eskenderun, or Alex- 
 andretta, a little port on the Mediterranean near Haleb, 
 and started my voyage, traveling as fast as I possibly 
 could, although with no hope of reaching the place in 
 time to see my brother and his wife again. After sev 
 eral days on the sea, having landed in the above men 
 tioned little port, I had before me ten more days of tedious 
 travel on horseback. Finally I arrived in Orfa. There 
 was no difficulty in finding the house where my brother 
 lived. I found the house, but alas, I did not find my 
 brother. Yonan was the one who met me at the en 
 trance of the dwelling and told me the sad story, which 
 consisted of the fact that my brother, his wife and the 
 nurse were dead. I will not try to tell you my suffer 
 ings at that time. It was a blow which brought me 
 nearly to the verge of insanity. I loved my brother 
 more than I can tell you, and still more I loved the little 
 baby, who was an exact picture of her father." 
 
 (*) Known in olden times to Latin writers as "Or Chaldeorum." 
 
 254
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 At this moment Count Morat suddenly stopped speak 
 ing. He was overwhelmed with emotion, the display of 
 which he wished to prevent by momentary silence. While 
 the Count was trying to compose himself, Miss Virginia, 
 who was very much impressed with the sad story, could 
 hardly conceal her emotion, but she managed to speak 
 to the Count. 
 
 "And what became of the child?" she asked anxiously. 
 "Was the child also dead?" 
 
 "Oh, no, the child was not dead, but a thing happened 
 which at that time I thought was worse than death." 
 
 "Why, what was it?" inquired Miss Virginia impa 
 tiently. "Was she kidnapped?" 
 
 "Not exactly, but it amounted to the same thing, as 
 you will see," resumed Count Morat. "However, let 
 me follow the events in a chronological order. Having 
 learned the sad news, my next question, of course, was 
 where was the child ? Here I must tell you, that Yonan 
 was employed by my brother as his servant, and inter 
 preter for several oriental languages spoken in that 
 country, being highly recommended to him while he was 
 in Constantinople, and who afterwards proved to be 
 worthy of my brother s full confidence. This is why he 
 is with me now, and has been since that sad day, when I 
 found him in Orfa waiting for me. This faithful serv 
 ant did all in his power to save my brother and his 
 wife, but all was in vain. To my question as to what 
 became of the child, Yonan told me this: that after the 
 death of his mistress and her nurse, which occurred sev 
 eral clays before the death of my brother, and while my 
 brother was still alive, two families of English travelers 
 were passing through that town, where they had stopped 
 
 255
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 for the night. Learning- about this unusual incident, and 
 following the wishes of my brother, Yonan went to those 
 English travelers and requested that one of them should 
 come to the town and see an European gentleman danger 
 ously ill. It was undoubtedly an act of charity that one 
 of them went to see my dying brother." 
 
 "Here unconsciously he raised his gaze to the hanging 
 picture of Mr. Gladston. Miss Virginia could not help 
 noticing this, for she was attentively following his mo 
 tions, and when his gaze passed from the picture to her 
 self, she saw the immensity of his sufferings in his eyes, 
 and she asked herself what could have attracted his at 
 tention at this moment to the picture of her father ? In 
 stantly she felt intuitively that here it was where her 
 father became a part of the drama. Wishing to test her 
 suspicion, she asked : 
 
 "What year was it when this sad occurrence took 
 place, Count?" 
 
 "This was in the spring of eighteen hundred and 
 eighty " 
 
 Hearing this she instantly turned her inquiring gaze 
 to her aunt. Both ladies knew well that was the spring 
 when Mr. and Mrs. Gladston returned home by the way 
 of Orfa, and they both betrayed a certain uneasiness, 
 which the Count took for a good omen, and resumed his 
 story. 
 
 "In the heart of Asiatic Turkey, where Europeans are 
 seen at very rare intervals, the appearance of every Eu 
 ropean traveler is a notable incident in the town where 
 they happen to stop. When this gentleman, whose name 
 I knew not until recently, came to my brother, he found 
 him in the agony of death, but, being still in possession 
 
 256
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 of his senses, my brother succeeded in captivating the 
 traveler with his appeal. The dying father beseeched him 
 with imploring tears in his eyes, to take his child 
 and have it in his keeping until I, his brother, 
 would arrive. Fortunately this gentleman had his 
 wife with him, who, having learned of the sad case, 
 did not hesitate to take the child under her care. 
 This done, my brother drew his last breath. Now 
 it appears from the narrative of Yonan that these Eng 
 lish travelers were on their way home. The caravan 
 with which they arrived, had come from Mosul, its des 
 tination being Haleb. Before, however, leaving the 
 town, the gentleman who took the child, gave his card 
 with his London address to Yonan, with instruction that 
 they would stay for several days in the city of Haleb, 
 five days distance from Orfa, and should I arrive in 
 time, to communicate with him. But, as it often hap 
 pens, as though by some unfathomed design of destiny 
 the workings of the law of causation one misfortune 
 brought the other: Yonan lost that card, which was the 
 only clue to the enacted drama. Poor man, he was wild 
 with despair, but that did not help the case. Thus, I had 
 before me a real mystery. Who was the traveler who 
 took the child? How to find him? At that moment I 
 made a solemn vow that I shall not rest until I have 
 found, dead or alive, the sweet child of my brother, the 
 only offspring in our family. You can easily guess that 
 I started my researches immediately. I telegraphed to 
 all European consuls located in every city between Mosul 
 and Eskenderun, requesting them to inform me of the 
 English travelers passing through their respective cities, 
 but, alas, after a long waiting my despair grew more 
 
 257
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 than I could stand, for I could learn absolutely nothing 
 satisfactory. Then I decided to visit the two cities on 
 the way to the Mediterranean personally, which I did, 
 only to learn to my great chagrin that no European trav 
 elers with or without a child had been seen, or known to 
 have been seen to any one of the European representatives 
 in those cities. While my despair was great, greater was 
 my resolution not to yield to the encountered difficulties 
 in my researches for the lost child. Having found that 
 I could not learn anything advantageous in those cities, 
 I hastily returned to Orfa, where I had left my man 
 Yonan. There is in that city a charming little pond, 
 through which runs a stream of fresh mountain water. 
 Surrounded by well-grown trees, this pond is a sacred 
 spot to the inhabitants of that city. The great quantity 
 of fish in that pond is absolutely immune from the hands 
 of men. No one dares to touch them. They grow in 
 number and strength, being constantly fed by the people 
 who come there to spend a few pleasant hours in the 
 shade of the trees. To this pond I went, whither Yonan 
 took me, to show me the place where my brother used 
 to spend his leisure hours before he fell into the clutches 
 of the dreadful disease which so mercilessly ended his 
 life. There, sitting on the same bench on which my 
 brother and his wife used to rest, I took counsel with 
 Yonan as to the action to be taken in further researches, 
 and there I concluded, since I could not find a trace of 
 the travelers between Orfa and the Mediterranean Sea. 
 the next and only advisable step would be to go to Mosul 
 and there inquire about the travelers who had started 
 from that city. Losing no time, I took Yonan with me, 
 and after fourteen days travel on horseback we reached 
 
 258
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 Mosul. Here I went immediately to the English Consu 
 late, where I learned that there were no English travelers 
 from that city scheduled for Orfa. Upon my further 
 inquiries I learned that about the time I had mentioned, 
 there were two families who left that city. One was 
 Prof, and Mrs. Norton of London, and the other Mr. 
 and Mrs. Gladston of America. But these people did not 
 take the western route which leads to the Mediterranean 
 coast, passing through Orfa, Haleb and Eskenderun. 
 These gentlemen having finished their work in Nemrud, 
 had decided to return to Europe by a northern route go 
 ing through the cities of Amedya, Bashkala, Van, Erze- 
 rum. and Trebizond on the Black Sea, and then to Con 
 stantinople. They decided to go that way, for two im 
 portant reasons. One was to explore the splendid group 
 of Hekkaryan mountains through which they had to 
 pass, and the other to examine the ancient cuneiform in 
 scriptions to be found on the rocks in the city of Van 
 and its vicinity. (*) Besides, having come to Mosul by 
 the western route, they preferred to return by the way 
 just mentioned. Thus I was forced to conclude that 
 the travelers who took the child did not come from 
 Mosul. However, determined to exhaust all possible 
 ways to find the travelers, or at least the place from 
 whence they could have come to Orfa, at the English 
 Consulate of Mosul, I learned that sometimes American 
 missionaries located in Urmia, Persia, travel by that way. 
 going to Europe. Learning this I hired a special mes 
 senger, for there is no postal service nor telegraphic 
 
 (*) In 1888, Mr. Hyvernat, an emissary of the French govern 
 ment, visited that country, and published an account of those 
 cuneiform inscriptions in his "Inscription cuneiformes Van- 
 niques ou Armeniaques." 
 
 259
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 communication between the two localities, and dispatch 
 ed him with letters to the head man of the Ameri 
 can Mission in Persia. This required at least two 
 months time, during which I remained in the city of 
 Mosul. Finally my messenger returned with the news 
 that no one connected with the mission in Urmia had 
 traveled that way, and thus my last hope vanished. That 
 Mr. Norton and Mr. Gladston did not pass through 
 Orfa, I was assured by the English Consul in Mosul, 
 and therefore I dismissed forever the thought of search 
 ing out their whereabouts. What happened between 
 then and the time I came to Los Angeles, I will not nar 
 rate, for there was nothing which could have any connec 
 tion with the case, except that there were years repre 
 senting interminable researches without success. Now 
 my story reaches the stage of its development here in Los 
 Angeles. When I read the book which Miss Virginia 
 kindly gave me for my perusal, I was amazed when I 
 saw the statement that the two archaeologists with their 
 families had returned to Europe by the way of Orfa and 
 Haleb. This brought me to face a case of absolute im 
 probability. For, as I have already stated, after my ar 
 rival in Orfa, I went back to Haleb and Eskenderun and 
 learned as a most positive fact, that about the time indi 
 cated there were no European travelers, English or any 
 other nationality, in these cities. This fact has been veri 
 fied by my emissaries time and again, with one and 
 the same result, that these travelers did not pass through 
 those cities, and as no caravan ever passes without stop 
 ping in Haleb, and especially in Eskenderun, which is the 
 sea port, the statement of the book appeared to me as an 
 inexplicable mystery. Now the question arises, which 
 
 260
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 is true, the version found in the book or the positive in 
 formation which I have in my possession." 
 
 "Why, there is not the slightest doubt that Mr. Glad- 
 ston took the route leading to the Mediterranean Sea," 
 remarked Mrs. Pratt. 
 
 "I think my aunt is correct," joined Miss Virginia, 
 "for if it were not so, why would my father state so in 
 his book ?" 
 
 "That is exactly what puzzles me the most," resumed 
 Count Morat. "But, then, how could they pass through 
 those cities without being noticed by some one, officially 
 or otherwise? Besides, supposing they passed the city 
 of Haleb unnoticed, how could they board a steamer 
 without stopping in the city of Eskenderun, which is the 
 only port in that vicinity where steamers stop? You 
 hardly can appreciate the importance of this detail. Had 
 you known the methods I have used in my researches, 
 you would be of a different opinion. But, as inexplain- 
 able as the fact appears to be, I am inclined for good 
 reasons to admit that it was Prof. Norton and Mr. Glad- 
 ston, with their families, who passed through Orfa dur 
 ing the time when my brother died in that city." 
 
 "Therefore," said Mr. Milton, "it would necessarily 
 follow, that it was they who took the child. Is that it ?" 
 
 "Not they, but one of them," answered Count Morat, 
 looking at Miss Virginia with the intensity of a lover. 
 
 "Then what became of the child?" inquired Mrs. 
 Pratt. 
 
 "That child today is a charming young lady of four 
 and twenty," answered Count Morat, calmly. "She is 
 a perfect picture of her father, Prince Benedict. She 
 has two unmistakable birthmarks; one is on her right 
 
 261
 
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 cheek, and the other, exactly similar, is located under her 
 right arm." 
 
 Miss Virginia grew pale. Prof. Norton s remark, 
 quoted in her father s letter, stood before her as an intro 
 duction to the story told by the Count, and a thought 
 like a flash passed through her head, why it could not be 
 true that her parents could have taken the child in ques 
 tion simply as an act of charity? But what became of 
 the child? Where is that charming young lady, a 
 daughter of a Prince? She tried to break the momen 
 tary silence, but alas, she was not able. Fortunately, 
 Mr. Milton, whose astonishment was strongly expressed 
 in his face, came to her rescue. 
 
 "It is a very strange story, indeed," he remarked. "But 
 I presume since you have decided to tell the story, you 
 must have indications for its establishment as a fact. 
 Have you located the lost child, the charming young 
 Princess, Count?" 
 
 "First I have to locate the man who took the child," 
 replied Count Morat imperturbably. "In order to do 
 that, the ladies will permit me to call here my man 
 Yonan, who is the living witness of the sad drama." 
 
 The Chaldean, who was standing in a corner of the 
 parlor, unnoticed, made a few steps forward. 
 
 "Yonan," said the Count, "come here nearer, and 
 look at that picture hanging on the wall. Have you 
 ever seen that gentleman?" 
 
 "Yes, Master," answered the Chaldean, with a cer 
 tainty which was depicted on his face. "That is the 
 gentleman whom I saw in the city of Orfa. My master, 
 Prince Benedict, was in his last agony, when this gen 
 tleman at my request followed me to my dying master s 
 
 262
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 chamber, it was he," pointing with his hand at the pic 
 ture, "who was strongly moved by the request of my 
 master, and willingly agreed to save the child from the 
 certain death menaced by the cholera, and also from per 
 dition at the hands of Asiatics, had that child fallen in 
 the hands of natives, and took from my arms the little 
 darling, the little Princess. Afterwards I saw his wife, 
 too. She was a kind lady. She took the little baby in 
 her arms and carried it to her tent, for they were stop 
 ping in the outskirts of the city with the rest of their 
 caravan. Being assured that my little Princess was in 
 good and safe hands, I returned to my master, who 
 shortly died. That gentleman gave me his card and told 
 me that, as the cholera was raging in Orfa, they would 
 go to Haleb, and there they would wait for directions 
 concerning the child. He knew, Master, for he saw 
 your telegram from Constantinople, that you were com 
 ing, so he promised to stop in Haleb long enough to en 
 able you to communicate with him. But, O merciful 
 Lord, being broken down with all that I had witnessed, I 
 do not know how and when I lost that card which that 
 gentleman gave to me. But, Master, I solemnly swear 
 that that picture over there, is the picture of the man I 
 saw in Orfa, the exact picture of the traveler who took 
 the little angel from my arms." 
 
 In relating this sad story the Chaldean was moved to 
 tears. The impression produced upon the hearers was 
 immense. After a few seconds of silence, Count Morat 
 spoke again : 
 
 "Yonan," said he, "you have found the man who took 
 the child, but do you think you have found the little 
 Princess you carried on your arms?" 
 
 263
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "Master," cried Yonan, with the passion of orientals, 
 "Master, while I see the picture of that kind and noble 
 man over there, I see also the little baby I carried on my 
 arms, sitting here. She is," pointing 1 at Miss Virginia, 
 the lost Princess Helen, the daughter of my late mas 
 ter, Prince Benedict." 
 
 The scene was too pathetic for description. Miss Vir 
 ginia left the parlor with tears in her eyes. Mrs. Pratt, 
 amazed and stupefied with what she heard, followed her. 
 The Count and Mr. Milton remained in their seats. The 
 Chaldean was standing motionless, as though a marble 
 statue, behind his master. Mr. Milton was silent. Con 
 templating what he had heard, he began to understand 
 things he had seen and observed in Paris. Those mys 
 terious visitors from the Orient; that reproach directed 
 to Yonan in which he was told that it was his unpardon 
 able fault which was the cause of the disastrous conse 
 quences. That big envelope addressed to his Highness 
 Prince Muratt, and which he read Morat ; all these things 
 began to throw coloring on the situation. Finally he 
 broke the silence. 
 
 "Count," said he, "you never told me anything about 
 this sad story." 
 
 "No, my friend," answered Count Morat. "What 
 would I have gained by telling you a story, which could 
 not interest you, and which, strictly speaking, belonged 
 to the private life of my family? Had I told you at the 
 beginning my supposition in regard to Miss Virginia s 
 birth, would you have believed it ? Certainly not. Then 
 what was the use of telling you about it ? But now that 
 I have told the story as you heard it, I can tell you the 
 rest. Several times during our acquaintance, you made 
 
 264
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 remarks concerning" my solitude and manner of life. I 
 avoided the subject the best I could, for had I tried to 
 answer your questions, I would have had to tell you the 
 sad story of the family drama, and this I did not wish to 
 do. Now you know that the sole aim of my life was to 
 find the lost child. I spent a part of my fortune, which 
 partly belongs to her, in my efforts to find her. Undoubt 
 edly, now that you know the story, many things hitherto 
 mysterious are clearer to you, so are they to me. Now I 
 see why I came to Los Angeles. What brought me here, 
 now is clear to me. It is the great law of causation that 
 regulates all these seeming incidents ; for you know as 
 well as I do, that there are no incidents, no chances, mean 
 ing the events without the cause. After all, oh, how 
 happy I feel, so happy " 
 
 "But, Count, you are not sure that you have found the 
 lost child, are you," inquired Mr. Milton, looking wist 
 fully at his friend. 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Count Morat. "After what you 
 have heard can you doubt? This charming Miss Vir 
 ginia is no one else than the Princess Helen, the only 
 daughter of my brother, and the only offspring in our 
 family." 
 
 "This what you say is only one side of the case, and 
 so far does not prove anything," said Mr. Milton. "How 
 ever, will you tell me how you came to this discovery?" 
 
 "In the simplest way," resumed Count Morat. "The 
 moment I saw Miss Virginia when she appeared with 
 you entering this parlor on that memorable reception 
 night, I knew her instantly. You have no idea of the 
 strong resemblance she bears to her father. She is a per 
 fect picture of him. Besides, her age, which I learned 
 
 265
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 from Mrs. Pratt, Mr. Gladston s stay and return from 
 the East about the time when the child was lost, the 
 certaintly of Yonan in recognizing Mr. Gladston s picture ; 
 add to these the fact that Yonan also recognized the girl 
 when he first saw her. What attracted his attention the 
 most was, that birth-mark on her face. You must re 
 member that Yonan carried her on his arms while a 
 child, and this is how he knows about the mark on her 
 face as well as the other under her arm." 
 
 "Very strange," said Mr. Milton. "What strikes me 
 the most is the fact that Mrs. Pratt does not know any 
 thing about the case." 
 
 "The fact that Mrs. Pratt does not know, does not 
 change my conviction," remarked Count Morat. "But 
 she will know shortly, mark my words." 
 
 While these two friends were conversing in the parlor, 
 a most pathetic scene took place, on the second floor, in 
 the room of Miss Virginia. 
 
 When Mrs. Pratt entered, she found Virginia pros 
 trated with emotion in her chair. Her tears were rolling 
 down on her cheeks like a series of precious pearls. She 
 held in her hands that package of letters tied with the old 
 ribbon. When she saw her aunt entering the room, she 
 said: "Auntie, sit down here next to me, and read this 
 letter." Then she untied the ribbon, took that one par 
 ticular letter, the source of her mortifications during sev 
 eral years, and giving it to her, she repeated : "Read this, 
 auntie, read it, and tell me, if you can. what all this 
 means." 
 
 Mrs. Pratt read and re-read the letter, which she recog 
 nized as one written by the hands of her brother-in-law. 
 Then and only then, she began to realize the importance 
 
 266
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 of what she had heard in the parlor. Simultaneously 
 when she learned the time of the discovery of that letter, 
 she began to understand the sudden change which follow 
 ed in Miss Virginia s behavior. 
 
 "You dear child," exclaimed Mrs. Pratt, "why did you 
 not tell me about this letter, when you found it?" 
 
 In reply Miss Virginia related the whole incident of 
 that sorrowful night, when she found the letter, and con 
 cluded : 
 
 "Now you understand why I did not tell you, auntie. 
 You could not have explained then, nor can you offer 
 any explanation now. It is evident that mother never 
 told you anything about it." 
 
 Mrs. Pratt began to think. Suddenly she exclaimed: 
 "Wait, child, I think I have something from your mother 
 which will explain the mystery." Saying this she left 
 the room. After a few minutes she returned with an en 
 velope in her hand. 
 
 "Here, child," she said, "this is the only thing I know 
 I had to keep secret from you. I kept it in that drawer 
 you were so anxious to know the contents of; read it 
 now; perhaps this will enlighten us on the subject." 
 
 Miss Virginia took the envelope, opened it, took out 
 the one small sheet of writing paper, such as her mother 
 used to write her letters on, and on which she recognized 
 her mother s handwriting, and began to read. 
 "DEAR SISTER: 
 
 "Being aware that my end is approaching, and not 
 wishing to carry with me into the grave an important 
 fact which concerns my dear child Virginia, I beg you to 
 do my bidding. In case anything unusual should develop 
 in regard to Virginia, there is a box in the safe deposit 
 
 267
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 vaults of N. N. Bank, in which she will find a document, 
 which will tell her the whole story. The officers of that 
 institution are instructed not to allow anyone except 
 Virginia herself to open that box. The key is in the 
 possession of the bank officers, who will deliver it at Vir 
 ginia s request. But remember, do not inform her of 
 this, unless you see an urgent necessity, either that you 
 are in danger of death, or that Virginia is forced to solve 
 a mystery which concerns herself alone. Hoping that 
 you w r ill see that the last wish of your dying sister is re 
 spected, I die satisfied that I have accomplished my task. 
 
 "Your sister, 
 
 "Ci,ARA GLADSTON." 
 
 "This letter," resumed Mrs. Pratt, "your mother had 
 written before she died. She told me the day she died, 
 that there was a paper under her pillow in which she had 
 stated her last will; but she did not wish to give it to me 
 then, I presume, for fear I would ask her questions, which 
 she did not care to discuss with me. Thus the meaning 
 of this letter remains for me a mystery. Respecting her 
 wishes I kept this letter locked in my drawer all these 
 years, but now that this extraordinary revelation has 
 been made, I think, the urgent necessity of which your 
 mother speaks has come, and that is why I acquaint you 
 with its tenor. The arguments advanced by Count Morat 
 undoubtedly are conclusive. The strongest one appears 
 to me to be the fact that he knows of the existence of the 
 birth-mark under your arm. How in the world could he 
 know that? At any rate, the document of which your 
 mother writes will tell us more than we know. In the 
 meantime, be calm, child, until tomorrow, when you will 
 go and examine the contents of that document. Now I 
 
 268
 
 THE STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 
 
 must go down stairs to excuse your absence in the parlor." 
 
 "Count," said Mrs Pratt, entering the room, "you will 
 kindly excuse Miss Virginia for not coming down. She 
 is prostrated, as you naturally would expect, after what 
 she heard from you. As for me, all this is a mystery. 
 My sister never told me anything about the case, although 
 before her death, she left me an instruction for Virginia, 
 in regard to a document concerning herself, which is to 
 be found in a safe deposit vault. This she is going to 
 examine tomorrow. Until then I have nothing to say." 
 
 When Count Morat heard of the document, he looked 
 at Mr. Milton significantly, and hastened to answer: 
 
 "Why, certainly," said he. "We shall wait until then. 
 But permit me to tell you, Mrs. Pratt, that in my mind 
 there is not the slightest doubt as to the identity of my 
 niece. Kindly give her my regards." 
 
 Saying this he shook hands with Mrs. Pratt and left 
 the house, followed by Mr. Milton and the Chaldean. 
 
 Taking his seat in the carriage Count Morat turned to 
 his companion. 
 
 "My friend, Mr. Milton," he said, "now that you know 
 my story you can realize my joy. I feel as though re 
 born. You will do me a great favor if you will drive 
 with me to my house. I need your presence. O, I am 
 so happy, so happy ! But, poor child ! I can imagine how 
 she feels. However, she will gradually learn to know, 
 that she is the Princess Helen, and not Miss Virginia 
 Gladston." 
 
 The beautiful team of white horses set out with the 
 velocity of an arrow, and disappeared behind the pepper 
 trees. 
 
 The echo of the clattering hoofs was heard far away. 
 
 269
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 Miss Virginia spent a sleepless night, the greater part 
 of which was devoted to the discussion with her aunt. 
 They read time and again the letter written by Mr. Glad- 
 ston to his wife, in which he had repeated Prof. Norton s 
 words. While the story told by the Count emphatically 
 indicated the veracity of the short sentence of Prof. Nor 
 ton, Mrs. Pratt could not reconcile herself to the fact, 
 that her sister never told her anything that would suggest 
 the existence of such a pathetic mystery. "On the con 
 trary, all indications tended to the effect, that you were 
 her own child," said she, still holding in her hand the 
 above mentioned letter. "She loved you more dearly, 
 more tenderly, than she ever did any of the rest of her 
 children; that, you know yourself; and as for Mr. Glad- 
 ston, he was still more exuberant in his love for you. 
 The only thing that I ever noticed which seemed to me 
 strange was, that on some occasions while you were a 
 baby, your mother would talk to you, calling you Princess, 
 my little Princess, she would say, and then she would 
 
 270
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 look at your father, who usually would follow her in re 
 peating the same w r ords. This seemed to me rather queer, 
 for we Americans don t use such a caressing word as 
 that; and when once I asked her, why she called you 
 Princess, she said to me, Why, don t you think she looks 
 like a real princess? Now, I never saw a princess, so I 
 had no opinion on the subject, and finally I concluded 
 that this was one of her ways of displaying her love for 
 a child so dear to her. Of course this incident does not 
 prove anything. But, when we come to consider this 
 new revelation and the instruction your mother left for 
 you, the entire matter is changed. I am inclined to think 
 that there is some truth in what Count Morat said, for 
 mind you, when your mother spoke to me about the let 
 ter you saw, she did not wish to give it to me at the time. 
 She said she would keep it under her pillow, and she 
 added, should she die I had to take it, so that no one 
 else would see it. Now, naturally this suggests the ques 
 tion, why did she act that way? The answer is clear to 
 me now. Had I known the contents of what she had 
 written, probably I \vould have asked her some questions 
 in regard to the matter, and that is what she wished to 
 avoid. Evidently she did not wish to discuss the matter 
 for the fear that she would have told the secret before 
 the proper time had come. This she did, let me tell you, 
 not that she thought I would not know how to keep the 
 secret, but since she had not told me from the beginning, 
 she did not want to divulge the matter while she was 
 near death. That her last wishes would be sacred to me. 
 she knew well, and that is why she left her instructions 
 with me. These are simply my surmises, but of course 
 
 271
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 the whole thing will be cleared up by that document now 
 in the safe." 
 
 Miss Virginia listened to her aunt patiently. All this 
 seemed to her like a dream. Her brain decidedly refused 
 to do its work, for she could not discuss anything sys 
 tematically. 
 
 On occasions like this, time passes very quickly. It 
 was late in the night when Mrs. Pratt left the room, ad 
 vising Miss Virginia to go to bed. She followed the ad 
 vice, but sleep did not come. She was thinking. 
 
 The story told by the Count was so real, so impressive, 
 that she could not forget it for one second. Its picture 
 stood before her as vivid as though enacted before her 
 eyes. Could there be any doubt in the face of the testi 
 mony given by an eye-witness, an old servant? Yonan 
 had recognized the picture of Mr. Gladston, and he must 
 have known her also, for she was told of that mark under 
 her arm, a thing unknown to anybody except herself and 
 her aunt. But then if she were not a child of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gladston, why did they have her as their own, and 
 love her as they did? Why did she herself love them as 
 a child loves its own parents ? Was not the parental love 
 due to the fact that parents were instrumental in causing 
 the existence of a child, and whose flesh and blood made 
 the child what it was? W T as not the filial love and at 
 tachment due to the same reason? Contemplating this 
 problem, she was forced to come to the conclusion that 
 if the revelation made by the Count was true, it was ap 
 parent that this was not the case. This popular belief 
 evidently was based upon a futile theory, which did not 
 agree with the reality ; for there were cases where people 
 loved a child as their own although not born from them ;
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 and again there were cases where parents not only did 
 not love their children, but nourished a hatred for them 
 that was phenomenal. The conception involved in the 
 case was decidedly wrong, inasmuch as it ascribed the 
 existence of a child solely to the act of productiveness of 
 its parents, forgetful of the other important fact, that 
 the newly born child does not commence its existence 
 with the moment of its conception by the mother ; nor is 
 it an entity which comes into existence as a mechanical 
 result of parental union. It became evident to her, that 
 there was the working of causality behind it, which some 
 times, as in her own case, made a child become as dear 
 and as important to the happiness of its casual parents, 
 as the one for whom parental love was ascribed to the 
 fact that it was a part and portion of the flesh and blood 
 of its parents. Then she thought of changes which 
 would necessarily follow, should the revelation made by 
 Count Morat prove to be true. Would this revelation 
 change anything in her life? Oh, no. No matter what 
 her name, what her origin, she would remain the same 
 as before, for her entity, which was the soul and sub 
 stance of her life, could not be altered. Yet, the name 
 and the family connections meant something after all. 
 Were she told that she was a child of unknown parents, 
 would not that mortify her? Would not she feel humili 
 ated? Would not such an alternative break her 
 heart? If so, why should that take place, since the newly 
 born child s existence did not originate with its parents? 
 What difference would it make whose child she was? 
 Here, her knowledge of the law of causality came to her 
 assistance again. It was certain that the shaping of the 
 life of a newly born child was a direct result of its own 
 
 273
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 previous lives and deeds which followed it from afar; 
 for causes of the past were bound to produce a corre 
 sponding result. Then, if there was anything really re 
 grettable, it was the past, which caused the present. A 
 child born of plebeian parents, has to look for the causes 
 which mould its present life in the past, as well as the one 
 born in a princely family. Each human entity makes its 
 own future by its own acts of the past as a constructive 
 power of causality. What you were, makes you what 
 you are. Therefore it was greatly consoling to her to 
 know that she was born in a princely family, for in this 
 fact she saw her past as one which was not only not re 
 grettable but highly encouraging. Then she began to 
 think of her present family. Corinne, Camille, Charley, 
 what about them ? Would she have to leave them ? Oh, 
 no; never. She would never abandon them. She would 
 perform her assumed duties to the last moment. Thus 
 absorbed in her thought, she viewed her past and future 
 life in colors which, now encouraging, now dishearten 
 ing, consumed her pure soul like the flames of a burning 
 furnace. It was towards the early morning, when en 
 tirely exhausted, Miss Virginia felt overcome by sleep. 
 Yet she thought she saw her mother standing beside her 
 bed smiling at her. She seemed happy; and then she 
 thought she heard her voice : "Sleep child ; sleep," the 
 mother said. "Do not be disturbed. Before the expira 
 tion of another day you will be as happy as when you 
 knew nothing about the mystery you are facing now." 
 Then the mother disappeared, and she found herself in 
 an immense fairy-land, where she saw more wonders 
 than ever before. 
 
 The sun was high in the skies, majestically throwing 
 
 274
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 its vivifying rays, when Miss Virginia opened her eyes. 
 She arose feverishly, and in short order she found her 
 self in the dining room, where her aunt was waiting for 
 her. During breakfast they had their consultation, and 
 decided they would go together to the bank in search of 
 the document. But when they came to the indicated in 
 stitution, they were refused access to the safe deposit 
 vaults, on the ground that both ladies were unknown to 
 the officials. Upon hearing this Miss Virginia immedi 
 ately telephoned to Mr. Milton, requesting him to come 
 to the bank. When shortly after she saw him entering 
 the lobby of the building, she left her aunt in the cosy 
 corner purposely arranged for the ladies, and meeting 
 him half way explained why she wanted him. 
 
 "Why, Virginia," said Mr. Milton, shaking hands with 
 her, "what does all this mean? I had no opportunity to 
 speak to you last night when I left your house. Count 
 Morat wanted me to drive with him to his home, which 
 I did gladly, wishing to hear more if possible about the 
 matter. He is positive in his findings. But, to tell the 
 truth, I was so amazed with what I had heard that when 
 I went home I told my mother the surprising story, and 
 knowing nothing from you I did not know to what con 
 clusion to come. I spent a sleepless night thinking of this 
 extraordinary revelation. Tell me, Virginia, have you 
 had any knowledge of this? Do you know anything 
 about it ?" 
 
 "About the story told by the Count, I knew absolutely 
 nothing," answered Miss Virginia. "All this is new to 
 me. But if the story told by Count Morat is corroborated 
 by the document we are after, then it would follow that 
 I knew something about it." 
 
 275
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Mr. Milton, greatly surprised. 
 "Do you mean to say, that you knew the fact that you 
 were not a child of Mr. and Mrs. Gladston ?" 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," replied Miss Virginia. "I 
 simply said, I must have known something about it. But 
 this saying, I suppose, does not explain anything. Be 
 sides, I think the proper time has come that I should tell 
 you what I have promised to tell you." Saying this she 
 opened her handbag, and finding the letter in question, 
 said : "Fortunately the letter is here. Read this and you 
 will know what you wanted to know during the last few 
 years." 
 
 Mr. Milton took the letter, but before opening it, said : 
 
 "Then this is what you have been hiding from me? Is 
 that what you meant, Virginia?" 
 
 "Yes, this is the source of all my sufferings from that 
 memorable day, which you remember so well. Read it 
 and you will know all," concluded Miss Virginia. 
 
 Mr. Milton feverishly began the reading. When he 
 read the passage in question he dropped his hand holding 
 the letter, and looked at Miss Virginia with surprise. 
 
 "Why, dear girl," said he, with his sympathetic voice, 
 "while this seems very strange, I don t see why it should 
 have alarmed you. It is a sentence which could be ex 
 plained in many ways without affecting your sensitive 
 ness at all, for it does not necessarily mean that this 
 adopted daughter was you. But, after all, do you think 
 this has anything to do with the story told by the Count?" 
 
 "If Count Morat s narrative is corroborated by the 
 statement of the document in question, that sentence you 
 read is simply a prelude to the story," said Miss Vir 
 ginia calmly. 
 
 276
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 "Very true," said Mr. Milton. "Then let us see 
 whether there is such a document, which will corroborate 
 this statement." 
 
 Having found the proper official of the bank, whom 
 Mr. Milton knew well, he introduced both ladies, ex 
 plaining the object of their errand. After the examina 
 tion of the written instructions in the records of the bank, 
 Miss Virginia alone was admitted to the vaults, where 
 she opened the box indicated, in which she found a big 
 envelope addressed to herself. When she came back to 
 the ground floor, she showed the sealed envelope to her 
 aunt and Mr. Milton. It was decided that the ladies 
 should go home and first examine the contents by them 
 selves. Thus losing no time the two ladies with palpitat 
 ing hearts, hastily returned to Adams street. Reaching 
 the house they shut themselves in Miss Virginia s room 
 to read the document. In the meantime Mr. Milton re 
 turned to his office and waited patiently for the solution 
 of the mystery. 
 
 Following the arrangements agreed upon, Mr. Milton, 
 after his office hours, went directly to Count Morat s 
 house for dinner. Shortly after his arrival there, a mes 
 senger brought a sealed letter addressed to the Count. 
 The letter was written by Mrs. Pratt, requesting Count 
 Morat and Mr. Milton to come to her house as soon as 
 convenient. Accordingly, immediately after dinner the 
 two friends drove to Adams street. 
 
 The parlor was brilliantly illuminated. Silence was the 
 reigning element, and the house seemed deserted. Shortly 
 Mrs. Pratt and Miss Virginia entered the parlor. After 
 the usual greetings, Miss Virginia requested that Mr. 
 Milton should read the document she had found that 
 
 277
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 morning in the safe deposit vaults. It was quite evident 
 that both ladies had familiarized themselves with the con 
 tents of the document, for they both had a solemn ex 
 pression. 
 
 Mr. Milton took the paper, looked it over, and before 
 beginning 1 its reading, asked Miss Virginia whether she 
 recognized the handwriting of her father, whose name 
 he saw signed at the bottom of it. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Virginia, calmly. "The writing is 
 
 that of " here she hesitated a little, and finally ended, 
 
 "my father, followed with that of my mother." 
 
 "The document is perfectly authentic," joined Mrs. 
 Pratt. "There is no doubt whatever that both Mr. Glad- 
 ston and my sister have signed the document, so please 
 proceed with its reading." 
 
 Thus having ascertained the authenticity of the docu 
 ment, Mr. Milton commenced to read aloud : 
 
 "Los Angeles, California, 190. . . . 
 "My dear child Virginia : 
 
 "It is with pain that I am writing this, in order to re 
 veal to you, my dearest child, a truth concerning yourself. 
 However, I am doing this as an act of obligation which 
 I have assumed and which I do not wish to carry with 
 me to my grave. The story is this : When Clara and I 
 \vere returning from our two years stay in the Arabian 
 wilderness, in company with Prof, and Mrs. Norton, we 
 decided to take the northern route in order to see that 
 interesting country, and by the way do some archaeologi 
 cal researches in the northern part of that country. But 
 fate had decreed otherwise. When we reached a village 
 by the name of Alkosh, after one day s journey from 
 Mosul, we learned that Omar Agha. a fierce Kurdish po- 
 
 273
 
 THE READING OF THE D O C U M E N T. 
 
 tentate, had invaded the Christian provinces through 
 which we had to pass, and was causing untold devasta 
 tion plundering and massacring all he found on his way. 
 Having ascertained this as an authentic fact, we were ad 
 vised by the Christians of Alkosh not to go that way. It 
 was certain that we would fall into the hands of the 
 Kurdish bandit, and this meant a sure death to all of us. 
 Common sense dictated we should follow the given ad 
 vice. Accordingly we changed our plans and decided to 
 take the western route, the one \ve crossed when we came 
 first, and after a few days delay, we started our returning 
 trip, going through the cities of Djezireh, Nessebin, and 
 Merdin. When we reached the little city of Orfa, we 
 found there a plague, which was worse yet than that 
 menacing us had we gone by the northern route ; for we 
 discovered that Asiatic cholera was raging in that city, 
 killing people by hundreds. Our caravan stopped on the 
 outskirts of the little town with the intention of resting 
 our animals for a couple of hours, intending to continue 
 our journey during the night. While we were resting, a 
 man by the name of Yonan, a native Chaldean, came di 
 rectly to our tent and imploringly requested me to go 
 with him to the town, where his master, a European gen 
 tleman, was dying. It was a very dangerous undertak 
 ing, but for some unknown reason, I had no fear of the 
 plague, and I instantly followed him. I found as he had 
 told us, his master dying. Suddenly, as though animated 
 by a miraculous power, the sick man opened his eyes and 
 spoke to me, first in French and next in perfect English. 
 Do not come near me, whoever you are. said he. Know 
 ing that you are a European, I beseech you, listen to the 
 appeal of a dying man. I am Prince Benedict Muratt. 
 
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 the rest you will know from my servant, Yonan, who is 
 present here. My wife, who was with me, died a few 
 days ago, following the death of her nurse. Now it is 
 my turn to follow them. But, O, man, whoever you are, 
 listen : I have here a child, a baby girl only six months 
 old. For God s sake, take that child under your care. 
 Save her from certain death, for pity s sake. My brother, 
 Prince Lucian, is coming from Constantinople. He will 
 be here soon. Take the baby, I beseech you ; for, other 
 wise, if death does not take her, she will be spirited 
 away, and eventually will become a plaything in the 
 
 hands of native barbarians . Here his voice became 
 
 very weak and he stopped. But after a few seconds he 
 opened his eyes again, and now in a stronger voice he 
 said: Will you take my child, stranger? Yes, sir, I 
 answered. I will take her and do as much for her as 
 you would were you in my place. Thanks, he mur 
 mured slowly. God bless you ; now, I may die peace 
 fully. These were his last words. I immediately 
 hastened to see where the child was. This man Yonan 
 took me to a near-by house where I found the sweet little 
 baby. I took the little girl in my arms and carried her 
 as fast as I could walk to my tent, and gave her to Clara. 
 Dear Virginia, this sweet little baby was you. A couple 
 of hours later, this same man Yonan came to announce 
 that his master was dead. Now that I had you under 
 my care, I wanted to know about your parents as much 
 as I could learn. The first thing. I went to see the dead 
 Prince, your father. Having verified the fact that he was 
 dead, I obtained from the servant a pack of papers which 
 his master had directed him to leave with the child wher 
 ever she might be, and which you will find in this en- 
 
 280
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 velope containing this, my writing. After a short con 
 sultation with Clara, we decided not to stay in Orfa any 
 longer than it was absolutely necessary, and to go direct 
 ly to Haleb, which being a larger city with many Eu 
 ropean accommodations, would afford us better protec 
 tion than any other place. Before leaving Orfa, how 
 ever, I gave my card to this man Yonan with instructions 
 that should Prince Lucian, your uncle, arrive in time, he 
 would find us in the city of Haleb by inquiring at the 
 English Consulate of that city. (*) Thus we hurriedly 
 left Orfa and proceeded to Haleb. After five days 
 tedious journey, the day we expected to enter the city 
 of Haleb, we saw a mass of people fleeing from that city 
 in all directions. From them, alas, we learned, that chol 
 era was doing its deadly work in that city more than any 
 where else. We had no choice. Instantly we decided 
 not to enter the stricken town, and instead to follow the 
 route to the seaport. Fortunately for us, as long as we 
 were in the open air and away from the cities and vil 
 lages, we were out of danger of the plague. Accordingly 
 we left the city of Haleb on one side, and started our 
 journey to Eskenderun, the nearest seaport on the Medi 
 terranean. After another four days wearisome travel, 
 we reached our destination, but, lo, even here we could 
 not enter the city for the same reason. The plague had 
 taken possession of this locality simultaneously with the 
 rest of the country. But, after all, providence protected 
 us better than we could have expected. Looking from 
 the top of a hill behind the city, where our caravan stop- 
 
 (*) In the days when this story took place, there were no 
 American representatives in those cities. Now there is an 
 American consul in the city of Eskenderun or Alexandretta, 
 and a consular agent in the city of Haleb, or Aleppo.
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 ped, we saw in the port of Eskenderun, a big steamer, 
 which, by the display of its flags, we recognized as an 
 English merchantman, ready to sail for England. Our 
 joy had no limits, for this was our only salvation. Thus, 
 without stopping in the city, we boarded the steamer, by 
 special favor of Captain Cook, who happened to know 
 some of Prof. Norton s friends in London, and owing to 
 this truly miraculous incident, we were saved from cer 
 tain destruction. All of this time, you, dear child, were 
 carried in our arms. Every one of us four carried you, 
 one after the other, for there was no other way for your 
 safety. When we were located on the steamer, 
 where we could breathe freely, we all had much needed 
 rest and comfort, thanks to Captain Cook. Finding our 
 trip on the steamer quite comfortable, we decided not to 
 land until we had reached the shores of England. During 
 the time of our journey, you were known to all we met 
 as our own child. Owing to the necessity of our avoid 
 ing Haleb and Eskenderun, the only two cities on our 
 way after leaving Orfa, we lost all hopes of meeting 
 Prince Lucian, your uncle. But still we were expecting 
 to hear from him soon. Thus we reached London. Be 
 fore entering the English capital, however, we decided 
 amongst ourselves to present you to my uncle in that 
 city, with whom we intended to stop, as our o\vn child. 
 We had a solemn promise from Prof. Norton and his 
 wife, that they would not mention the incident of Orfa. 
 This was done with propriety. I had your uncle s ad 
 dress in Constantinople. To that city I directed my let 
 ter to him, but several weeks passed and we heard noth 
 ing from him. Here I must tell you a secret of our own. 
 A few months after Clara and I were married, she learn- 
 
 282
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 ed from her physician, that owing to some complications 
 of a delicate nature she was denied the privilege of ever 
 becoming a mother. This proved to be a fact during the 
 first four years of our married Life, preceding the inci 
 dent in Orfa and several years afterwards. It was a very 
 sad thing for both of us to know that we never would 
 have children, for we would have loved to have had chil 
 dren of our own. Having this fact in view, now that we 
 had a child as pretty, as charming, as you were when I 
 took you in accordance with the express wishes of your 
 dying father, we decided, should your uncle, Prince 
 Lucian, not find us, we would keep you for our own. 
 With this determination we sailed for America. It seems 
 as though by magic, we forgot that you were the Princess 
 Helen, the only daughter of Prince Benedict Muratt, and 
 we named you Virginia, after our native state. When we 
 arrived home, of course we presented you to our family 
 as our own daughter, who was born to us in the city of 
 Mosul during our stay there. Years passed and we heard 
 nothing of Prince Lucian, and to tell the truth, we were 
 glad of it. for we were not anxious to see you taken away 
 from us. In my letter to your uncle I gave my address 
 care of Prof. Norton, in London, but as events proved, 
 nothing came out of that. As for the assurances that 
 Clara never would become a mother, subsequent events 
 have demonstrated that medical men are not omniscient, 
 and that they carry their limitations like any other mor 
 tal, for, as you know, Clara gave birth to three robust 
 children, who with you make the little family of ours. 
 Here is the end of the story. I am writing this, dear 
 Virginia, for as you know I am ill and eventually I may 
 die. I will die probably very soon, and as sometimes 
 
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 strange things happen, who knows, it may occur that 
 your uncle, Prince Lucian, may find you yet ; in that case, 
 this revelation of mine will perhaps be of some service to 
 you and justice to your princely family. However, be 
 fore I conclude, let me tell you, dear child, do not think 
 for a moment that you ever were to us anything but the 
 dearest child of our own. If we have in any way ne 
 glected to perform our obligations towards you, perhaps 
 it was in the fact, that we did not try to communicate 
 with the members of your family, especially with your 
 uncle. For although we did not receive an answer to 
 our letter addressed to him and directed to Constanti 
 nople, there was nothing easier in the world than to find 
 your relatives, a family so well known all over Europe, 
 if only we had tried. But we did not do this, due solely 
 to that deeply rooted and invincible love we had con 
 ceived for you, dearest child, the moment you came in 
 our charge. We loved you as our own. Should you 
 blame me for my love for you, then, Virginia, please par 
 don, 
 
 "Your loving father, 
 
 "EDWARD B. GLADSTON." 
 "Dear Virginia: 
 
 "Before the death of my husband, he wrote this docu 
 ment with his own hand and in my presence. The reason 
 is given within it. I had this paper in my keeping until 
 now. But now that I feel I am to follow him, I write 
 these few words to corroborate the above statement, and 
 bless you with that motherly love which animated me for 
 you all my life and with which I die, 
 
 "Your loving mother, 
 
 "CI.ARA GLADSTON." 
 
 284
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 When Mr. Milton finished the reading, he found tears 
 in every eye he looked upon. The silence which followed 
 was of a pathetic solemnity. 
 
 Having wiped away his tears, Count Morat arose, and 
 approaching Miss Virginia, took both of her hands in 
 his, and said : 
 
 "Now come, come, dear child, and let me press you to 
 my heart." 
 
 Miss Virginia fell in his arms, and her tears of joy 
 found their way to the tender heart of the man who now 
 was to her, her father, mother and whole family. 
 
 The stately figure of Count Morat, radiant with untold 
 bliss, tenderly holding in his arms the golden-haired girl, 
 whose shapely head charmingly reposed on his left shoul 
 der, a Princess that she was by birth and by her noble 
 qualities, was a picture worthy of admiration. 
 
 The reigning silence, which told volumes of sufferings 
 and disappointments of the past, deeply inscribed in the 
 heart of a loving uncle, was the dawning of better days 
 for the man who sought his happiness in the bosom of 
 his family ties. 
 
 Overwhelmed with emotion, Count Morat, silent and 
 imposing, conducted his niece to the sofa and sat next 
 to her. 
 
 At this solemn moment a human shadow, which dur 
 ing all this time was standing in a corner of the parlor, 
 approached the sofa. This was Yonan, the Chaldean. 
 He bent his knee reverently before Miss Virginia, took 
 both of her hands, and kissing them tenderly, said: 
 
 "My Princess my Princess Helen These little hands 
 I have kissed many and many times when I carried you 
 
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 in my arms. Blessed be the Lord, who permitted me to 
 see you again. Oh, Princess, when I think of you when 
 you were a baby, and of my dying- master, the Prince, 
 your father, I cannot help crying. When I lost that card, 
 which that good, noble man gave to me, when he took 
 you from my arms, 1 lost you, my Princess, and that was 
 the saddest moment of my life. The dying Prince said 
 to me; Yonan, see that the baby is in the hands of my 
 brother. These were the last words of your father. I 
 promised him to do so faithfully, but, alas ! I was not able 
 to accomplish the task. It was my fault that you were 
 lost to us, and that is what made me suffer the most all 
 these years. But I vowed solemnly to stay with my mas 
 ter, your uncle, and search for you, Princess, until you 
 were found. Now that this blessed moment has come, 
 permit me " 
 
 He could not finish his sentence, for over-abundance 
 of tears choked his throat. His was the cry of a faith 
 ful servant, who believed that he was the cause of the 
 misfortune of his master s family. 
 
 Miss Virginia was deeply moved by this unexpected 
 display of emotion of the old servant of her father. $he 
 wished to comfort him, but for the moment could not 
 find consoling words. 
 
 "Arise, Yonan," she murmured, with tears in her eyes, 
 holding his hand. "I thank you for your sympathy and 
 faithful services. You have suffered a great deal, I 
 know, but I hope you shall not suffer any more. Some 
 other time you will tell me more about my dead parents, 
 whom you have served so loyally, so faithfully; but now 
 be cheerful." 
 
 286
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 Yonan kissed her hand again respectfully, and left the 
 room. 
 
 After sad emotions, ordinarily follows a reaction, 
 especially on an occasion like this. Gradually the whole 
 company became calmer, and conversation now took a 
 more cheerful tone. 
 
 At this juncture, a little voice coming through the door 
 leading to the hall, said : 
 
 "May I come in, Virginia?" 
 
 "Why, Corinne," exclaimed Miss Virginia, running 
 to meet the little girl, "of course you may ; but what are 
 you doing here?" 
 
 "O, dear Virginia," said Corinne, "we all were in the 
 library, and now that you are a Princess, can I kiss you, 
 can I?" 
 
 "O, dear little soul," said Miss Virginia, kissing her 
 tenderly, and taking her on her knees when she sat on the 
 sofa, "I am always your Virginia and nothing more." 
 Then turning to Count Morat, she added : 
 
 "You and Yonan have been making a baby of me; but, 
 don t you see I have a big baby of my own? I don t 
 think anyone ever loved me as much as I love my Cor 
 inne." 
 
 "We did," said Camille and Charley, in a chorus, now 
 standing behind the sofa. 
 
 It was apparent that everybody in the house knew the 
 pathetic story told by the interested witnesses. 
 
 Count Morat, perfectly charmed with the affection dis 
 played by Miss Virginia for a family that was hers de 
 facto, although not de jure, was very anxious to investi 
 gate a few more details in connection with the case, and 
 said: 
 
 287
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "By the way, Virginia, we have not finished our busi 
 ness as yet. May I examine the papers of which Mr. 
 Gladston speaks in his letter to you?" 
 
 "Why, yes, here they are," said Miss Virginia, taking 
 the big envelope from the table standing near the sofa 
 and giving it to the Count. 
 
 When Count Morat examined the papers, he found 
 various documents relative to his family affairs, and 
 which he expected to find with the lost child. Showing 
 them to Miss Virginia, he explained the importance of 
 each of them. 
 
 "Now I have to tell my story," said Miss Virginia, 
 when Count Morat had finished his remarks, and she re 
 lated the discovery of that letter which long before this 
 had told her the uncertainty of her birth. 
 
 Hearing this, Count Morat remarked that there is 
 nothing that happens without a purpose. This short and 
 ambiguous sentence in the letter mentioned has performed 
 its mission. Through it Miss Virginia learned what it 
 was to be in uncertainty. The sufferings which followed 
 the discovery, gave her much thought and reflection, 
 which ultimately were bound to produce beneficial results, 
 and concluded by saying that after the establishment of 
 the fact of Miss Virginia s birth in a princely family, she 
 was entitled to learn something about her ancestors. 
 Then turning to Miss Virginia, he continued : 
 
 "The story of your family, dear child, is quite roman 
 tic. The family, as the name indicates, is of French or 
 igin. My father, Prince Alexander Bonaventura Muratt, 
 while in the service of the French army, with the rank 
 of a general, met in Paris and became acquainted with 
 
 288
 
 THE READING OP THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 the last dethroned Georgian Queen and her only daugh 
 ter, while they were making 4 a tour through Europe. The 
 gallant general fell in love with the charming Georgian 
 Princess, and having succeeded in gaining her favor, 
 shortly after the first meeting they were united in the 
 bonds of matrimony. In accordance with the agreement 
 stipulated in the marriage contract, the general left 
 France and followed his adored wife to live in her coun 
 try, Caucasus. As you know, this beautiful country of 
 Caucasus, after centuries of vicissitudes, was finally sub 
 jugated by Russian diplomacy in 1803, and made a part 
 of that vast empire. The result was that all governing 
 bodies of that country were deposed and most of them 
 were taken to the Russian capitals, St. Petersburg and 
 Moscow, to be Russianized. My grandfather, my 
 mother s father was the last King of Imeretia, a most 
 beautiful country. Located on the south side of the majes 
 tic Caucasian Mountains, with its productive soil and im 
 mensely rich flora, Imeretia is a land of a great variety 
 of fruits, vines and minerals, and of a most beautiful 
 specimen of humanity, representing the origin of the so- 
 called Caucasian race to which Europe and America be 
 long. The old king having witnessed the sad despolia 
 tion of his country at the hands of Russians, and his hu 
 miliating deposition from the royal dignity, dejected and 
 dispirited in his deep grief and sorrow, died heart-broken 
 in the capital of his ancestors, the city of Kutais. In that 
 city your father and I were born, and you also; for it 
 was while we were living there, that your father married 
 the Princess Nina Norbeliani, a most beautiful lady of 
 that land, and from this union you were born, dear child. 
 
 289
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 Thus you see, that from your father s side you represent 
 an ancient family of France, and from your mother s 
 side the noble blood of Georgian princes throbs in your 
 veins. You were named Helen Clementina after my 
 mother. My father died before I had reached my ma 
 turity. About that time the question of a great railroad 
 in the heart of Asiatic Turkey was agitated amongst the 
 capitalists of France and Germany. To an old timer un 
 doubtedly it would seem queer to see a Prince taking an 
 active part in a commercial undertaking of that kind. 
 But considering that conceptions of propriety in all things 
 have been lately rapidly changing, and the fact that your 
 father was a man of great activity and energy, no won 
 der that he took keen interest in the matter. Thus you 
 see that it was not anything extraordinary that your 
 father, although a descendant of two ancient princely 
 families, undertook an active part in the building of a 
 railroad, which finally ended with his premature death, 
 and also of his gentle wife. Was his going to that coun 
 try a preamble to build up a series of experiences for you? 
 If we judge by cause and effect, that was the case. But, 
 after all, I am happy to say, that all is over now. In 
 finding you, my dear child, I found the rays of a new 
 life for me, and let us hope that the rest will go as pleas 
 antly as we deserve after these years of sufferings and 
 disappointments." 
 
 It was getting late in the evening, but the joyous spirit 
 that was the governing element now, made them forget 
 the customary rule. They talked and chatted in the din 
 ing room, where refreshments were served. Finally 
 Count Morat arose, wishing all good-night, and followed 
 by Mr. Milton and the Chaldean, left the house. 
 
 290
 
 THE READING OF THE D O C U M E N T. 
 
 "O, what a glorious day this was," said Count Morat, 
 taking his seat with Mr. Milton in the carriage, and 
 they drove away. 
 
 The next day Miss Virginia arose very early. She 
 sat in her window facing the east, in order to witness the 
 rising sun. O what a beautiful day it was ! All seemed 
 to her so different! Even the glorious sun was brighter 
 than usual. The perfume rising from the flower beds 
 below had an intoxicating quality. The birds on the 
 trees were singing their song of spring. Even the peo 
 ple passing on the street seemed happier and more cheer 
 ful. All was smiling, all was joy. When she saw her 
 room filled with the vivifying sun-rays, she was greatly 
 surprised to find that all objects which adorned her 
 room were so pretty, so attractive. She wondered why 
 she did not notice that before. When she followed her 
 daily occupation, in every thing she found something 
 new. pleasing, enchanting, and her joy grew as the 
 time passed. It was about noon time when Corinne en 
 tered her room to tell her that Mr. Milton was in the 
 parlor waiting for her. Hearing this, she ran down like 
 a school girl to meet him. 
 
 "How nice of you to have come," said she, entering 
 the parlor. 
 
 "I came, Virginia," said Mr. Milton, taking his seat 
 next to her on the sofa, "for I wanted to see you on the 
 first day of your ne\v life. Do you know, dear girl, 
 that you look today like sunshine? You are now as you 
 used to be before that memorable day. I do not need 
 to ask you whether you are happy, for I see you are the 
 happy girl of yore." 
 
 291
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, I am," said Miss Virginia, smiling with 
 that enchanting smile which bewitched her hearer. "The 
 keeping secret of a matter so vital as that letter was a 
 killing experience. You have no idea what it is to be 
 in uncertainty, as my uncle well said last night." 
 
 "You may rest assured," interrupted Mr. Milton, 
 "that I have a pretty good idea of it, for I have had a 
 similar experience myself. Now that you know some- 
 thing about it, I expect you will sympathize with me and 
 let me tell you my secret I have kept all these years." 
 
 "One more secret?" exclaimed Miss Virginia, merrily. 
 "Don t you think we have had enough of secrets?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, we have had enough of secrets and 
 mysteries," joined Mr. Milton, pressing her hand affec 
 tionately to his lips. "It is time that we should talk 
 plainly, dear girl." 
 
 "Yes, plainly; but people don t tell their secrets that 
 way, do they ?" said she, smiling and menacing him with 
 her forefinger. 
 
 "Well, I don t know how others do, but I will tell mine 
 in my own way. Virginia, you know, dear girl, I love 
 you with all the powers of my heart and soul. Now 
 that you are so happy, won t you let me share that hap 
 piness with you? Will you say, yes ?" 
 
 The rest was said in such a whispering tone that no 
 one could have heard it. 
 
 A few days after, Miss Virginia and Mr. Milton were 
 in the library consulting a calendar in order to choose a 
 suitable day. It was a day which would mark a union 
 of two noble souls, whose love was not a product of 
 passion. 
 
 292
 
 THE READING OF THE DOCUMENT. 
 
 "But, remember," said Miss Virginia, radiant with 
 joy. "all our plans are subject to the approval of my 
 uncle. Do you consent to this ?" 
 
 "I consent to anything you say, sweet girl," murmured 
 Mr. Milton, pressing her tenderly to his heart. 
 
 293
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 When the newly-married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Milton, 
 nee Princess Muratt, returned from their two months 
 wedding trip, they were pleasantly surprised in learning 
 that Count Morat had purchased the property adjoining 
 the Gladston home, and having made some alterations to 
 suit his requirements, installed himself there in order to 
 be nearer to his niece. In doing this he simply complied 
 with the understanding he had reached with her. It was 
 a difficult matter to arrange things in a way that would 
 be satisfactory to all ; but, owing to the fact that the ef 
 forts of all concerned were directed to the one and sole 
 end, which was to comply with the wishes of Miss Vir 
 ginia, the task became easier. The narrated events did 
 not change the attitude Miss Virginia had taken. Dur 
 ing the conversation she had with Mr. Milton on the day 
 when he insisted upon a plain talk, Miss Virginia, before 
 signifying her assent, made it clear to him, that any 
 change in her life, which would interfere with her as 
 sumed duties, would be detrimental, inasmuch as it would 
 
 294
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 despoil her of her peace and contentment derived from 
 the fulfillment of her promise to her dying mother. 
 Knowing- well her determination on the subject. Mr. Mil 
 ton had to resort to such an arrangement as would 
 meet her approval. It did not take him long to find a 
 combination, which finally solved the problem quite sat 
 isfactorily. It was agreed that they would be married 
 and . live in the Gladston home until the maturity of 
 those who were in her charge. This combination pleased 
 Miss Virginia immensely. The next question was, 
 would Count Morat sanction this ? For, after all. he rep 
 resented her rightful family, and as her uncle his ap 
 proval certainly was most necessary. Having obtained 
 Miss Virginia s consent, Mr. Milton did not delay to 
 state his case to the Count, who, knowing well of the 
 existing attraction between Mr. Milton and his niece, 
 was not surprised when he heard what Mr. Milton had 
 to say. Following 1 his established views, Count Morat 
 was of the opinion that Mr. Milton was the only man 
 who could aspire to such a union and legitimately claim 
 the hand of his niece; for he knew well that there were 
 no events which were not regulated by lawful causes, 
 although those causes invariably remained unknown to 
 some men. The first American that he ever had met, 
 with whom, seemingly for an unknown reason, he had 
 established a friendly relation, was Mr. Milton. It was 
 he who was partly the cause of his coming to Los An 
 geles when they met on Lake Tahoe. It was he, who, by 
 the events regulated by the unseen hand of an unfathom- 
 ed destiny, played such an important role in saving the 
 vital interests of the Gladston family. It was he, who, 
 by his incessant care and friendly advice, encouraged 
 
 295
 
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 and warmed the desolate heart of a girl, practically left 
 alone to face the burdens of life and worldly vicissitudes ; 
 and finally it was he, through whom he first gazed upon 
 the long-lost child of his brother on the occasion of 
 that memorable reception night. Nothing could efface 
 from his memory that bewitching picture which he saw 
 the moment Mr. Milton and Miss Virginia entered the 
 parlor together, whither he was brought by unseen 
 power, to find the object of his researches. It was 
 then that the thought flashed through his mind : "There 
 is a couple which is destined to be united." In the face 
 of all this, could he refuse his approval of such a 
 union ? No, he could not do that without offending his 
 feeling of gratitude which he owed Mr. Milton, and 
 which could not be forgotten easily. When he heard of 
 the fact, that his niece would not consent to the marriage 
 unless she was to remain with the orphans confided to 
 her care, he was radiant with joy. "O, what a noble 
 sentiment!" he exclaimed, with ecstacy. Notwith 
 standing our utterly materialistic times, when seemingly 
 the whole human race is permeated with selfishness and 
 indifference to all that is foreign to their interests, 
 there are women, young and old, for whom self-sacrifice, 
 in order to alleviate the burdens of others, is a joy." It 
 was a joy to him, also, for he was immeasurably proud 
 of his niece for her affection and attachment to the fam 
 ily which was ordained to be hers by inscrutable des 
 tiny, which is another name for the workings of causal 
 ity. 
 
 The manifestation of such a sentiment, which aims to 
 point out the sacredness of family ties, is undoubtedly a 
 much-needed incentive in our times; for the existing 
 
 296
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 social evils, which mar and destroy family happiness, 
 certainly owe their origin to the lack of the sentiment 
 displayed by the Count and his charming niece. 
 
 Thus, following the dictation of his own heart, Count 
 Morat hastened to express his approval of the plan pre 
 sented to him, and in compliance with the wishes of his 
 niece, he gave his final sanction, with the following 
 stipulation, however; that in the contract of marriage 
 his niece should figure by her rightful name, and not by 
 the name by which she had been known hitherto. This 
 was done in order to establish her legal rights to her 
 patrimony. Thus, following the arrangements made, 
 the marriage of Mr. James Milton and Princess Helen 
 Clementina Muratt, was solemnized with the full formal 
 ities prescribed by law and the prevailing custom. The 
 ceremony took place in the big parlor of the Gladston 
 home, in the presence of relatives and a few intimate 
 friends, amongst whom were Dr. Ihringier and Mr. 
 Irving. 
 
 Dr. Darling was the officiating clergyman. 
 
 When the happy couple returned home, Mr. Milton 
 found his mother installed in the room adjoining that of 
 Mrs. Pratt. The two ladies being congenial, now are 
 enjoying that intimacy which makes both of them ex 
 ceedingly pleased with the new arrangement. 
 
 Count Morat, regenerated by the radiant bliss emanat 
 ing from the happy termination of his researches, with 
 contentment and peace in his mind, and joy in his heart, 
 follows his studies of the problems of life. He sees his 
 niece frequently, whom he calls by her rightful name, 
 Helen, and tells her things she would never have known 
 
 297
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 had it not been for the cruelty of the events which sep 
 arated them years ago. 
 
 Charley Gladston has learned from Count Morat, how 
 to value the deep and majestic thoughts embodied in 
 the immortal productions of Beethoven, and now delights 
 his hearers with that bewitching music. In the mean 
 time, he is nearing the termination of his studies in the 
 Polytechnic High School, under the highly efficient su 
 pervision of the principal of that institution, whom he 
 greatly admires. 
 
 Camille, although only a lad, evidently has a soul that 
 is old in matters pertaining to planetary systems, for he 
 is utilizing his experiences of his former lives wonder 
 fully well. He assures us, that we are nearing the 
 time when we will have communications with the inhabi 
 tants of Mars, which seems quite probable. The man of 
 our planet has succeeded in harnessing the ethereal 
 waves, and calls it Wireless Telegraphy. The inhabi 
 tant of Mars is much more proficient in the knowledge 
 of natural forces, as a dweller of an older planet, and 
 would it be a wonder if some day we should hear of a 
 phenomenon which will convey to us an intelligent mes 
 sage from our sister planet? 
 
 The little Corinne still enjoys the privileges of a baby. 
 She has found in Count Morat a good friend, for he 
 loves children. She is a candidate for the Marlborough 
 School, and that makes her happy. 
 
 Yonan, the Chaldean, who now became a sort of fac 
 totum in the two adjoining houses, that of his master 
 and that of his Princess, is the happiest of all. He fol 
 lows his specialty of keeping in good order a dozen 
 
 298
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Turkish pipes for his master, and for the consort of his 
 Princess. 
 
 The literary gatherings still continue, now mostly in 
 Count Morat s house. The lively discussions which take 
 place there are becoming more and more interesting. 
 Through these discussions, Dr. Ihringier has learned 
 that although the father of the modern Monistic School 
 knows a great deal he does not know all. There are 
 laws governing our planet, which are to be detected yet, 
 and which may after all alter the whole structure of the 
 now existing scientific creed. Furthermore, he has dis 
 covered that he has a soul, and that his soul is as im 
 mortal as that of Plato. 
 
 Mr. Irving never misses these gatherings. He is of 
 the opinion that learning is a good thing-, but one must 
 have gumption in order to be able to digest it. 
 
 As for our genial Mr. Montgomery, after that memor 
 able reception night, when he was asked to state whether 
 he had found a difference between his man and the Mal 
 tese cat, he made up his mind, that he would punish Miss 
 Virginia for her audacity in asking him such a ques 
 tion, by getting married. In less than a month he found 
 the object of his love in the shapely figure of an actress. 
 She was as pretty as a French doll, with all the attrac 
 tiveness of an actress who knows well how to play a given 
 role. He professes to be happy with his choice, but for 
 how long? No one can tell. Will a love actuated 
 solely by passion and regulated by the attractions of 
 flesh, last long? 
 
 Reverend Dr. Darling has not solved his problem as 
 yet. He has learned a great deal since the day he be 
 came acquainted with Count Morat. but owing to his 
 
 299
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 prudence in things human, he remains in statu quo. He 
 admits the impossibility of knowing an absolute truth, 
 and yet, when Sunday comes, he still preaches what he 
 claims to be the absolute truth. 
 
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