Puslapio vaizdai
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scarf had disappeared. My wife fainted dead away, and we had to forego a concert from which we had anticipated great pleasure.

The following evening I heard my wife scream, and rushed to her room. The scarf, as before, lay on the pillow, woven and twisted into the strangest knot that eye of man ever saw. Once more the gas went out.

"What a strange flash of ruby light just went through the room," said my wife, in trembling tones. "I believe we are both going mad."

I now saw standing by the gas-bracket a tall figure with an Indian turban on its head and an aspect of more than regal majesty. And the ears of my mind distinctly heard tones that conveyed to my brain this impression of speech:

"I bring the sacred sash of Sakuntalá to thy wife: to-morrow the ruby will be thine."

I lighted the gas as if nothing had happened, and took the sash from the bed, saying to my wife, whose nerves were somewhat unstrung, and who certainly would have swooned again if the sash had been wanting:

"This is a present for you. It is a beautiful specimen of East Indian work, and very ancient. Those characters woven into it are Sanskrit, and the person from whom I got it says it means, 'The belt that girdles the lily waist of Sakuntala, pearl of India, best and loveliest of women.'

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Those words were put into my mouth, and I could no more help saying them than I could resist the loving kiss that cut them short. The next day the ruby came into my possession, but under circumstances so bizarre that I hesitate to relate the story.

I went to the French restaurant to get my usual noon luncheon. It was capital but very simple, and unaccompanied by wine of any description. In this statement I shall be borne out by two acquaintances who tried to tempt me with a glass of sparkling moselle. After luncheon I walked into the readingroom. I found no one there. A large plate-glass mirror oddly decorates the reverse of an apparent door, giving, of course, a fulllength reflection of the person standing in front of it.

I am not vain, but as I was alone I ventured to survey myself in this glass. I remember quoting with approbation Scripture words to the effect that a man who regards himself in a mirror goes away and quickly forgetteth what manner of man he is.

As I stood there quite contented with the general fit of my winter clothes, and the serenity of my face smoothed of care by

the consciousness of repletion, I became aware that in the mirror I had a companion. Just beside my image stood a figure that had not been there a moment before. I looked around. I was absolutely alone. I stepped up close to the glass and examined it carefully my reflection advanced to meet me. Its companion in the mirror stood motionless a short distance back of the light-engendered reflection. Again I scrutinized the room. It was perfectly silent, perfectly vacant of human beings beside myself. I heard the rumble of the streets outside. I heard the fire crackling in the grate. I was not deceived. The figure in the mirrored room opened its mouth to speak, and, just as its mouth seemed immaterial though real, so the voice that proceeded from the glass to my brain was a silent voice. I recognized the same tones that I had heard twice before:

"I have come to bid you farewell. We shall never meet again under terrestrial conditions. I am you and you are I, and we have always been and always shall be interdependent. Every person is a duality: I am the many-times incarnated personality of your oversoul. It has existed through the ages, and will exist when this earth shall cease to be. I leave with you the ruby ring which has been found and lost, not once, but a score of times, since it glittered on the finger of Sakuntalá's king and lord. It will warn you of danger; it will grow bright in the presence of friends, and turn turbid when an enemy approaches. Consult it as an oracle, and it will tell you when your course is right or wrong. And now, farewell!"

As I watched the glass I saw what seemed to be a procession of strange and yet strangely familiar figures and faces. One after the other they came to the inner edge of the mirror, gave me an inquiring and recognizing look, bowed, spoke mute words of farewell in what may have been a dozen different languages. Yet I understood them all. Singularly identical, yet dissimilar, were the individuals composing the train, and the most marvellous thing about it was that in spite of its length it took no more time to pass than it takes a drowning person to review all the events of his life, or for one in a dream to live through a lifetime of agony or joy. And on the finger of each sparkled the jewel that I knew was descending to me.

I heard a ringing sound on the floor. The ring came through the glass without shattering or even scratching it; and at my feet lay this splendid jewel, which I have since worn, and which I shall carry with me to the grave. After that the mirror re

gained its ordinary appearance. But how bitterly I regretted not making better use of my opportunities and learning more about the unseen world! Now the chance is gone forever. But I have the ring. What effect it has had for the better on my character I will not say. But my fortunes, since I began to wear it, have distinctly mended. Offices of trust have come to me, and I have filled them, so I am told, acceptably. I have related the story with no garniture of imagination, simply as it happened. It seems to me almost incredible, but, kind friends, and you, my dear wife, regard the ring. Is it not indeed curiously wrought? Does it not silently by its undimmed and even enhanced glow confirm my veracity? Do you acquit me of deception, of exaggeration? I thank you!

HOW HANS PICKEL SAW THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE.

(A TRUE STORY.)

HANS PICKEL vas mine fat'er's name; Hans Pickel, id vas mine;
He kvit der fat'erland mit me in achtzen-forty-nine.

I vas a liddle bubchen denn, and now I'm olt und gray,
Und schtill don' spik die English vell, I'm very zad to zay.
Die poys I spielt mit almost all vas liddle Cherman poys,
Egcept die liddle Cherman girls who helpt to maig die noise;
Und von of dem now pears mine name -I gall her mine schweet
Pickel,

Und such a shoak id maig her laugh und say dat I'm ridickel.

I vent to school a year or doo, und denn I learnt mine drade;

I vas a gleffer blumber, und a vortune I haf made.

Bud all dis dime of doil und moil I schtuck right straight to pees

ness,

Und neffer vonce haf took a day but Zundays for mine ease-ness. Now Elspet (dat 's mine frau) she zay I'd ought to haf a schange, Und zo to go avay a vile I manetch to arrange.

I pought a dicket for New York, and had a lofly ride,

Und zaw die level landschaft all dat schmiled on efery zide;

Bud venn I reach die zitty I vas marvel at her zize

I neffer zee such hurrying growds, such schplendit pildings rise.

I velt dat I vas almost lost, dough I veigh zwei-hundret pound!
Mine poor olt ears vas deafened by die Niagára zound.

'T vas most of all dat Prooklyn Pritch I vantet to peholt,
For of her vondrous maknitut I'd many dimes peen tolt.

Und zo I vent down Vulton schtreet, und kvickly bay mine vare, To see it vrom beneat' at first, zoospended in die air.

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